Mark gripped the man's throat, slamming him into the brick with ease. He cried out. Blood ran down his head.

    Ethan watched.

    Mark forced his head into the brick again, stunning him. He grabbed his hair. Spun him around. The man's back into his chest.

    "I never eat the face anyway," he laughed, panting. Ethan grimaced at the sight of the bloodied face, drawing his hands to himself.

    "Maybe we should have gone for Rasta Sinclair," said Ethan, lip curled in disgust. Mark laughed, taking out his switchblade.

    "Go get the car," he said. "We can load it up faster, and you also won't have evidence sprayed on you."

    Ethan gagged. "Yuck—blood sprays, I forgot," he shuddered. He gave one last glance to the man before heading for the car, leaving Mark with the man. He grinned, pressing the blade into his jugular.

    "It was nice knowing you, Charlie," he said. The man shuddered.

    He ripped the knife across his throat, and blood sprayed across the brick in a glittering arch, painting it with a brighter red. Even the white back door of the bar reddened at the arch, blood dripping down its metal surface in a sickening display.

    Mark dropped the man to the floor with a thud, blood still gushing out of his neck. His hand flailed, trying to cover the wound, but his body spasmed and betrayed him. Blood poured from the wound, painting the floor a glossy, sticky red.

    At this time, Ethan reversed the car into the scene, and the trunk popped open. Mark stowed away his knife as Ethan rolled down the window, craning his head outside to see what his friend created. His brows instantly knitted together.

    "Ohhh, now that is sick," he groaned, stomach churning at the gore. Mark ducked out of view to retrieve something from the trunk, returning with a heavy weapon. Ethan's eyes shot open.

    "You brought an axe?!" he shouted, staring at the ghastly sight of it. Mark shushed him, and Ethan nervously laughed, turning away from the sight. A sickening squelch made him flinch, and he grit his teeth.

    "That's where I get my dinner," he said, shaking his head. "And I like dinner."

    He groaned, trying not to think about it. "He's just a cow. Who makes a nice, juicy steak. Just a cow."

    The trunk slammed shut, and Mark sidled into the car, spatters of blood on his face and clothes. Despite the amount of blood, his clothes weren't soaked.

    "Let's go," he said breathlessly, smiling over at Ethan. He gave an amused scoff, and they drove off, leaving the man's body in the pool of blood.

    "You left misleads again?" asked Ethan, raising a brow at Mark. He nodded with a smile.

    "Got some hairs from another guy in the bar," he said. "It'll distract the police enough for them to give up on his sorry ass."

    Ethan smiled at that.

    "Good job, by the way," said Mark, leaning back in his seat. "I had fun tonight."

    Ethan hummed, turning and finding the house up ahead. "So, what's for dinner? Leg, again?"

    "Leg for tonight," he said, "and leg for another time." He gave a prideful grin. "I got a little extra in celebration."

    They parked on the side of the road and exited the car. Again, that suspicious feeling tingled Ethan's spine, and he looked around the block. Mark rose a brow at him, his bloodied shirt evident in the streetlights.

    "You go and fetch the baskets," said Ethan, leaning on the trunk. "I'll watch over the car."

    Mark nodded, jogging up the stairs to his house and disappearing inside. While Ethan waiting, he squinted at his surroundings, eyes landing on a solitary camera under a streetlight.

    Many miles away, Eyes drew back in her seat.

    "He's staring straight at me," said Eyes, fingers tensing. She looked over her shoulder, looking at Dark. His face hovered close to hers. "Are you sure he's not an Evolved?"

    "We don't know yet," drawled Xilef, pulling himself from the shadows. "He seems to grow weary when you spy on him, though."

    "W-well—he made contact with Konray, and she's an Evolved," reasoned Eyes. "Only skilled humans or—other Evolveds—know how to contact us."

    "Even if he is," said the Tear Stealer, "he's no threat. It's the human he gave my information to that I want."

    Eyes turned back to the screen, and Mark came out of his house, wearing a new shirt and carrying two grocery baskets. "Is that him, Xilef?" she asked, keeping her focus trained on the screens. Ethan broke his stare from the camera, and she zoomed in on Mark's face.

Eyes lingered on the sight; his skin glowed with youth through the screen, features similar to the Tear Stealer's. Through hooded lids shimmered brown eyes, and Dark leaned forward, heart skipping a beat when Mark smiled through the screen at Ethan.

Dark straightened himself, losing his breath.

    "Um—well he's quite handsome," said Eyes, adjusting her glasses, equally taken aback as Dark. "Let me bring up his profile—"

    "Don't." Dark rose a hand to stop her, and Eyes glanced over her shoulder at him, brow raised. "If he really is my 'killer,' I want to learn about him myself."

    Eyes glanced at Dark, then at Xilef, looking between the two. They stood next to each other, paused in silence. A knowing smirk curled on Xilef's lips at his friend's stunned reaction, and he rose an amused brow at Eyes.

    "I'm going to excuse myself," said Xilef, a lilt to his normally deadpanned tone. "The shadows call for meditation."

    Dark vaguely waved a hand in dismissal, eyes burning holes into the screen where Mark's eyes were.

    Ethan deeply sighed, the tingling leaving his spine. Mark rose a brow at him.

    "You alright?"

    "Meh," shrugged Ethan, taking one of the baskets. Now that the camera was off of him, his tenseness relieved. "I'm getting that paranoid feeling again."

    "Do you think it's anxiety?"

    They stood in front of the trunk, blocking its view to the outside world, and opened it, revealing the freshly cut legs. Bone peered from the oozing muscle, and Ethan gave a disgusted laugh.

    "I enjoy eating this," he said in disbelief, placing down the basket in the trunk. Mark handed him a pair of latex gloves, and he slipped them on, picking up the leg and placing it in the opaque basket. Mark followed suit, and they carried their heavy loads, closing the trunk and heading into the house.

    That tingling sensation came back, and Ethan lingered, glaring into the distance. It completely stopped, and he hummed, slowly following behind Mark. Once the door shut behind them, they began to prepare the meat for both saving and the night's dinner.

Thank you so much for reading! Tell me what you thought :)

Have a great day!
-Kassian