One moment of silence is all it took to shut off the disheartening environment's audible sound. Not a single drop of boisterous noise was left to go astray. A silent reminder to note someone's death - - only one out of the two people occupied the small space between the two organisms still lives. On the other hand, the singular person lays on their back upon the rough gray concrete ground underneath her. A young woman who had lived until she had reached the age of sixteen years old; her motionless body is all but an empty shell soaking in its own blood prior to the overbearing wounds she had suffered. But the severe injuries isn't what makes her death finalized. A fracturing injury, carving out the skin where her lone heart is designated to be and a forceful pull painfully extracts the main internal blood pumping organ away from the barely living body before the life that loosely flowed in it had began to slow down immediately . The lack of the organ that put blood and energy into her, she were immobile and deprived of a living future. Watery crimson liquid descends down in a briskly drip, blending their natural ruby-tinted color on the soft fabric on top of smooth yellow ochre skin The majority of the corpse was previously clothed in a three piece attire. A long-sleeved black turtle neck sweater, securing a warm neck, slender arms down to the curvaceous waist ending just above twin thick thighs provides her cozy warmth. Pitch black wrist length gloves conceals delicate palms and the same colored duffle coat is opened wide, the four black horn toggle fastenings tied to the leather loops on the coat is unhooked to what kept them together to close it up. Unlike her bloodied state, the woolen material seems like the only clothing on her that isn't damaged. Laced-up knee high black suede leather and quilted nylon waterproof winter boots she once wore on her small feet; faux fur is trimmed at the rim. All that is left of her is the terror -stricken expressive glance her hazel eyes given the aggressive opposer right before their activity was taken away in that exact moment. The brief time of excruciating pain pushed on her forcibly. Long straightened chestnut hair, nourished and prolonged over time border her oval-shaped face, enacting to be as close to her skin like a decorative lining.
Twin genuine black leather ankle shoes makes light weighted steps to the womanly teenager, his athletic form and shadow hovers her. Coffee pigment lingers in his indifferent irises. His gory left sided hand carefully holds a still beating organ in it. He slides a large bookbag off his thin back and pulls the zipper upwards across on the opposite site to reach for a tall plastic jar filled blood - - the same blood type an ancestor before this woman was naturally born with by birth. Turning the jar's lid quickly when putting the organ on the ground next to his slayed victim, it opens indefinitely and without a second thought in the full jar the heart went. The heart nimbly accelerated in motion due to the blood type it began to soak in, saved by at least a few minutes. If it stayed out of the body, no longer connected, its life-source would run dry as well. Medium thin lips parted and a gaudy voice peels out, insensitive dialogue leaks from such subtle pink lips. “Secure the heart he said ,” He playfully mimics the words a man superior to him in rank had demanded him to do. Sluggishly taking his brand new Nokia cellphone designed to luminous shine even in the dim-lighted place around him, he speed dials the assigned number he knew by memory clearly and then holds the squared phone to his right ear and impatiently listens for the rings' sound-waves to echo in his ear canal. A mysteriously gruesome deep tone answered their own phone line on the first ring. The sound of the other caller's voice brought uncomfortable chills that didn't sit right for him.
“Her body's life energy is gone from this feeble planet. I am highly impressed of your work, Isidro.” He gives the boy in his teenage youth gratitude. Isidro negatively scoffed in disapproval.
“Hunter is what they call me—the rest who still lives,” Isidro strictly give the person the nickname preference he wanted and pauses in between his statement. “The target has been terminated. You know this, boss. I have done what you have asked. It is only fair you do your part in the deal.”
“Fair?” The unknown voice asked. “When did you ever play fair?”
“Never.” Hunter's moisturized pink lips' creases is tugged in a smug smirk.
“You have proven that you could be a greater use to me than originally plan. I didn't think you would take the life of your own especially at a young age.
“Being young do not mean shit when it comes to death,” Hunter simply shakes his head, trimmed in a short-length caesar haircut. “A life will wither away by force, natural causes or the supreme one over all of us will take us. Don't ever doubt a human's potential... including me. Dawkins, this little girl you call Jezebel had it coming. She always get in the way.” He exaggerated his last statement and angrily grunts.
“Let your anger motivate your actions in the future. With the way your behavior is acting out, it will make you a dominant ally.”
“Are you done yet?” Hunter inquired. “You are starting to bore me.”
“Watch your mouth, boy.” The gruesome voice grew harshly and serious hinting irritation underneath it. The change of speech volume almost frightened him. “It will leave you in a worse situation than Jezebel's fate. You will not escape it. I will find you and make you suffer for each smart remark you can utter out of disrespect. Bring her heart to me.” Hunter pulled the Nokia away from his ear and ended the call by pressing a button at the bottom of the screen.
“Purgason, you better hope Dawkins' heart is worth it.” He called his boss and the late Jezebel by their last names as the cellphone is slid back in his deep right pocket. “What makes her so important?”
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