Page 92 of Fragile Facade
“Fucking pathetic,” Krypt snaps.
“I knew that tension would eventually snap.” Seven laughs.
I look back at Director to see what he has to say about it, but he’s just watching me with relief and some sort of fondness in his eyes. I don’t like it, so I push my way out.
My smile is all charm as I leave the con room, but it turns to a feral smirk with bad intentions towards Yates when I grab my mask from my room.
* * *
Turnsout we have more competition in finding Yates than just each other. The Misfits are also on the hunt, and it seems as if half of Moros is out for him, too. The town is unified, everyone working together for one greater purpose: to catch the traitor who let the enemy into our home.
I’m still sore and injured, but I’m ready to get back to my roots. Fuck my ruined Vile House tattoo, and fuck my insecurity over my masks. Tonight, I’ll prove to myself that the only thing that matters is the power within me. Because I’m a hunter at heart. A sinister mind with an even more sinister need, and Yates is about to become the dopamine hit I need.
Bonfires are lit all across town. The cemetery is flickering with torches and small fires, and the streets glow orange from lampposts. The vibe of the entire town is ominous and predatory, and fucking hell, it’s building up inside me. Even the ravens refuse to slumber, sitting on tree branches and power lines to be our eyes and ears. I love it when every part of Moros comes together for one despicable purpose.
On this chilly, damp night, I’m prowling down Crucifix Street with a new blade in my grip. It’s never met blood until I used it an hour ago to slice my inner bicep, bleeding all my second thoughts from my body to leave me with nothing but confidence and a capable mind. I spin it in my palm, the hilt warm from my hand and the sharp edge eager to meet flesh. The ravenscawabove me, and two figures dressed in black slink up the street between parked cars and front yard bushes. It’s not Tom and Yates. It’s a husband and wife, close friends of Yates’, and the reason I know where they are is because of that neck I snapped in the bargain hall.
Willow Olenna’s cousin died by my hands, and the price she paid me was agreed upon a few days ago when I paid her a visit. Information. She’s a shifty, smart woman who knows everyone’s business and is wise enough to make her skills transactional. The first bit of information she gave me isn’t up for grabs yet. I’ll share it when I’m ready, but earlier, when I left her a calling card to call me, she delivered exactly what I needed.
Yates and Tom have been house-hopping between a few different sets of friends who are willing to protect them from the townsfolk. No surprise that none of them are members of The Misfits. This husband and wife are guilty of hiding those filthy traitors, and now they’re on the run, smart enough not to take a car out of town because they know the road will be blocked.
Well, their footpath is also blocked, and when they meet Krypt up ahead, they’ll turn back towards me, falling perfectly into our trap. I’m trembling with anticipation for it.
Our masks aren’t battery-powered, but they are glow-in-the-dark. So when the husband and wife step out of cover, ready to sneak into the next yard to escape Crucifix Street, Krypt’s glowing purple mask greets them. Their shrieks are audible from back here as they scramble over one another, grasping at each other’s clothes to quickly turn around. Where they’re met with my glowing white mask. If only they could see my smile. It’s one of my best, only coming out on rare occasions when I know for absolute certainty that I’ll get to lord my power over someone.
I don’t stop walking as they scramble. Krypt is closing in on them from behind, and they’re whimpering such beautiful sobs. Their fear leaches into the night, and if I don’t get hard over this, I’ll consider myself broken. I love scaring people!
“We didn’t do anything!” the husband shouts, grasping at his wife’s jacket. “I swear! We don’t know nothing.”
I tilt my head at them, a silent question, because they sure do know something, and we’re going to get it out of them. The wife looks behind her and screams when she sees two knives glinting in the moonlight from between my brother’s fingers. I don’t care about their fear beyond enjoying it for myself, and I have no empathy for their situation. They chose to become friends with Yates, and they chose to hide him after he fucked Moros over. Whatever happens to them, they have it coming, and honestly, I take pride in being their deliverance.
“Please,” she cries, clutching her husband’s arm. “Just let us leave town. We won’t come back. We don’t know where he is.”
The vein in my neck pounds with the drum of my heart. Adrenaline spikes as anticipation builds. This is where I’m most comfortable; behind my Vile House mask, armed with a weapon that feels natural in my hand, wielding power over those beneath me, and delivering justice to pathetic liars who believe themselves to be stronger than the full force of an unhinged town. In Moros, power is checked at the door, and if you don’t have what it takes to hold onto it, you fucking lose it. Quick.
“Yates,” is all I say, my voice projecting authority.
“We don’t know!”
“Yates,” I say again, this time letting the force of my manipulative instincts infiltrate the name.
“I swear!”
Stepping forward, I spin my new blade, letting it catch in the light. “Last time.”
Krypt makes a sound behind them and they both jolt, damn near pissing themselves. They’re past middle age, on the shitty side of life I hope I never make it to, and finally realizing they’re worthless.
“Yates?” It’s the third and final time I’ll ask.
The question is punctuated by Krypt’s knives. One for each throat. I laugh behind my mask, appalled at how easy this is. He doesn’t even have to hold them in place because his blades do it for him. Mr. and Mrs. Newton are pin straight, afraid to even blink, all because they know, somewhere deep down in their souls, that we’re the brothers who killed our own parents.
The ravenscawlike they’re cheering us on, amplifying my grin. In the middle of the rainy season, the night sits calmly as a backdrop, the moon unhindered by clouds. It spotlights me, shining down to give me centre stage, and I’m not one to turn down attention. Time to play a ‘this or that’ game.
“Lie to me and your husband loses his ability to see,” I tell the wife. “Have Yates and Tom been staying with you?”
She trembles, crying hard enough for Krypt’s sharp edge to dig into her pulse point. Without turning her head, her eyes shift to look at her husband, wanting his opinion on the question. I hate these types of couples. Why the fuck would you willingly get into a marriage with such an imbalanced power dynamic? Even Remi, as a fearful cursed man, holds innate power over Krypt, and a lot of it. Dominance and submission by choice is one thing, but these two are just ridiculous.
“Why’re you looking at him?” I ask, keeping my stance casual. “You either answer with the truth and he’s fine, or you lie to me and he loses his eyes. Are you so loyal to him that you need his permission to answer? Because I’ll wager a bet that he wants you to tell the truth. Wanna know why?” I wish she could see my face and recognize me for who I am. “Because it saves his eyes, and when the next question comes his way, he’ll throw you under the damn bus to save himself.”
