Angel or Demon

Hound was walking through the intricately decorated corridor to the door in the end. Rare pieces of art hung at various intervals throughout the brightly lit corridor. His footsteps echoed as his shoes clapped against the wooded floor. He buttoned his suit jacket and checked his watch.
8:58 PM. He was quite excited for the meeting. He was, like always, on time.
A new ACD Hector Creed had contacted him a day ago, asking for a sit down, promising no arrest or violence. He was surprised. The police didnt go for talks and negotiations, they were too busy trying to attempt futile arrests . He'd been called to a 5 Star hotel for the meeting. This new man certainly had style.
Hound reached for the door handle and wrenched it open. The door revealed a richly furnished parlour, with a huge fireplace and beautiful, victorian candle stands. The room was impressive. A man stood in front of the fire place, staring into the fire. His back to him. He seemed unaware of Hound's arrival.
Hound moved into the room and closed the door behind him.
"You're on time, Mr. Hound." The man spoke, turning around. He was handsome, dressed in a black suit with no tie. The first two buttons of his dress shirt were open, revealing his muscular chest, his black hair slick against his scalp. His green eyes were sharp, emphasising a cunning and brilliant character with a lot of power.
"John, please. Mr. Creed I presume?" Hound stalked forward, and extended his hand. They shook.
"I'd prefer Hector." The ACD motioned towards the two chairs in front of the fire place. They both took their seats.
Creed sat cross legged, studying Hound, while Hound did the same. Both said nothing. The seconds ticked by and the silence drew longer.
"To be honest, I assumed you to be someone very rough and...wild, yet here you are, charismatic, but with that merciless glint in your eyes." Hector smiled, moving forward and pouring wine into the two glasses that rested on the table in between them.
"I'm flattered Hector, although I must admit, you're not bad yourself. The police is usually quite...confused. You seem focused." Hound replied, rejecting the wine.
"A man such as you requires alot of focus John. You've made quite a name for yourself."
"The job I perform requires excellence Hector, as you're well aware."
"I am."
Silence ensued again as they both regarded each other.
Creed chuckled. "Its odd to meet somebody who doesnt tremble at the sight of you."
Hound laughed. "Agreed."
"So Hector, why does the angel call the demon for a sit down?" Hound asked.
"Maybe he wants to know the demon?"
Hound chuckled. "You already know alot about me, you've read the files. I presume there are alot of officers who are listening to this right now that can tell you about me."
Creed raised an eyebrow.
"You presume too much, there are no officers who are listening to our conversation."
"Dont treat me as a fool Hector, I'm the man your departement wants the most. Even a low profile drug dealer would get basic levels of survillience, while I have escaped everytime your departement attempted some petty arrest. There are men watching and listening. So lets skip the crap and get to the point. Why am I here?"
"You're a clever man." Creed remarked. "I called you to warn you, vanish well before it begins, leave the city."
"Before what begins?"
"The hunt. Your hunt."
Hound laughed. "I'm just a random mercenary, Hector, why would the best police personell from the capital request a special transfer to Sesmont City to hunt me down. There are many others like me."
Creed raised an eyebrow. "You seem well aware about my...movements."
Hound smirked. "I like to stay informed about my adversaries."
"I wonder, from where do you aquire your information."
"I have my sources. Back to the conversation at hand Hector, why would you want to hunt me down?"
"You kill publicly, you've got a reputation among the common people, they dont regard you as a merc, you're a homocidal killer on the loose to them. There's pressure on the Police to arrest and apprehend you. Besides, you've killed 29 Police Officers, government officers and other VIPs in the last week. I'm bound to take action."
"No, not you. You coul've ignored it. You had no responsibility to come here." Hound leaned towards Creed, his eyes narrowing, a smile playing on his lips. "No, no, no, no, its something else, isnt it?"
Hector didnt answer for a while.
Finally, he smiled and poured himself another glass of wine.
"Four years ago, you were given an order to make a kill. It was a women. Kayla."
"Ohh yes, I do remember her." Hound straightened back.
"Your only kill who's body was never found."
Hound only smiled in reply, the smile so genuine and angelic that it struck Creed. How could this man be the monster he was?
John started to get up from his seat and walk towards the door, Creed got up too.
"She was your sister, I believe." Hound spoke, without turning around.
Hound suddenly found himself pinned to the wall, Creed growling into his face.
"You sick son of a bitch." Creed snarled.
Hound just smiled back, that sarcastic little thing more provoking than a straight slap to the face.
"Kayla Creed." Hound whispered, throwing every syllabul at Hector like a brick.
Creed dropped him, immediately hiding his anger behind expressionless eyes.
"You'd better watch your ass, John." Creed took out a pack of cigarette from his pockets and put one in his mouth, staring at Hound all the time, who was straightening his jacket and smiling with mock humor. "I'll be cutting it of and hanging it on a pike. One of these days."
He offered the cigarette pack to Hound, who rejected, taking out a pack of his own.
"You know Hector, I hope I get an order for your kill," Hound lit the cigarette. "One of these days. I'd show you where I put your sister."
"Its a date then John, I offered you my protection today, so you go free. But the next time I see you, I'll make sure I put a bullet between those eye." Creed grinned.
"Its a date then, Mr. Hector Creed." Hound smiled. "Hunt me down, and I'll wait for the kill with your name on it, for I dont kill on my own consent. But as soon as I get your name on a chit, you'd better watch your," Hound puffed a torrent of smoke in the air, "Ass."
Hound turned towards the door and pulled it open.
"See ya," Hound remarked while walking out.
Creed stared after him as he strolled down the corridor.
"Oh pray you dont."

The bulb swung slowly on its cord, animating he shadows that fell on the walls. The prisoner was bound to the ceiling, his eyes closed. Blood trickled from his mouth, a ghostly smile playing on his lips. He was a powerfully built man, hanging from the cords that bound him. Although tied, he still seemed to emanate an aura of power that the officer holding the leather belt, ready to swing at him didn’t.
The inspector swung. The crack echoed along with the prisoner's grunt as it made contact with his sweaty, naked torso, leaving yet another stripe of red.
"You hit like a girl, Richard." The prisoner spoke, his eyes still closed. The smile still visible on his features.
Richard swung again and again. The prisoner grunted with each crack, but the smile never vanished. Finally, sweaty and out of breath, the officer collapsed against the cell wall.
"Why are you here?" Richard asked once he'd gained his breath.
"Why do you ask me that Richard? I'm the one who's bound." The touch of irony in the reply was quite prominent.
The inspector got up and lunged at the bound man, punching him straight in the face.
"Don’t you dare play with me Hound, why are you here? If you wanted, you could walk out right now, and I wouldn’t be able to give one shit about it." Richard snarled, his face close to Hound's as he held him from his hair.
"You’re a brave, brave man Richard. Not many men have been able to do that." Hound smiled.
"Do what?" Richard asked.
"Beat me up, and snarl in my face."
"To be really honest, you let me do this to yourself, I'd like to know why."
"You've called the headquarters I presume," Hound asked, straightening up.
"Y-yes. Why?" Richard was suddenly afraid, very afraid. Hound wasn’t a normal man, certainly not one you wanted to be alone with in a cell. He was the best mercenary known, and he was operating in Sesmont City. Richard had been on his tail for the past three years now.
"Good. They'll be able to find your body." Hound suddenly flexed, braking the cords that bound him. "Somebody wants you dead Richard."
Richard started to back away from the advancing man, bound and tortured by him only seconds ago.
"We've known each other for so long Richard, I wanted to make you happy. You like beating me, don’t you?" Richard hit the wall. Hound was almost on him.
"Why do you tremble Richard?" Hound brought his face level to the terrorized officer, just inches away from him. "Come, I'll make it easy for you."
Hound straightened up and opened his arms, he had a long dagger in one hand, which was ironic. Richard had thoroughly checked him for weapons before he had placed him here.
Richard knew what was about to happen. There was no escape, certainly not from this man. He'd killed hundreds. Women, even children. There was no remorse, no pleading. Once he received a name, it was death. He never missed.
He shuffled forward, right into the arms of his death. His gaze dead, along with his mind.
Hound hugged him with his free hand, pinning him in his powerful grip.
"In the end, we all are cowards, in the face of our death." Hound whispered in Richard's ear, right before he plunged the dagger in his ribcage, pulling it out instantly. Richard struggled like a pig in his grip, but Hound did not let go. "And I don’t like cowards."
Hound stabbed again and pulled it out. Richard screamed. "Pain is good Richard." Hound stabbed again, but did not pull out this time.
"Specially for cowards." He whispered, twisting the dagger that was still deep inside Richard's ribcage. "It gives them strength." Hound pulled it out. Richard's struggles were fading, along with his screams.
Hound stabbed him again and twisted for the final time. "Oh, and about the no pain part."
He took the dagger out and let the inspector's body fall like a sack. It hit the floor with a thud.
"I lied."

The news spread like a disease throughout the room. Silence ensued as the words registered.
"Inspector Richard Collins has been murdered."
Every officer in the room was focused on the commissioner, waiting for further information. No one could quite place why the meeting had been called, even the sudden revelation of the Inspector's murder didn’t explain the purpose of this gathering. Nobody called an emergency meeting because of a murder, even if the murdered was one of the police force.
"What happened?" One asked, when the commissioner remained silent.
"John Hound." The reply made it all fit. Every officer in the room knew that name, and the hate, anger and dread it brought with it.
"The gun-for-hire who has eluded us since the past five years, reigning terror on this city." The commissioner continued. "Richard's body was found in the College Road Police Station after he had made a call to the HQ about a recent arrest of John Hound. When the officers on duty reached the scene, they found Richard murdered. Stabbed brutally."
"What will we do Commissioner? What are the orders?"
Before he could answer, the door swung open. Every head turned towards the man standing in the door frame as his blue eyes in turn swept through the whole room. His gaze held extreme authority in it, his lithe gait resembling that of a predator. This strange, powerful and handsome man was quite new to every officer. From his black suite to the cigarette between his lips, he accentuated extreme power.
"I'll be answering that." He spoke, his voice carrying throughout the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is ACD Hector Creed, who has recently come back to Sesmont City after a shining carrier in the capital, specially for the case of John Hound." The Commissioner introduced the man. "Welcome back, Hector."
"Thank you Commissioner."
"What are we gonna do about John Hound, Sir?" One female officer asked.
"Ladies and gentlemen, its time we act." Creed answered, taking a long hit from his cigarette.
"And what does that imply?"
Creed smiled, as humorless as death itself.
"Its been a long, long time since I took on a kill."

- John Hound

Hound stood on the rooftop of a tall building, his eyes on the road below. The cars were barely differentiable from so high above. The night was chilly and the breeze was light, making his clothes rustle. This was his place of refuge, where he would stand for hours and hours. So high above, devoid of any eyes to see, ears to hear, and tongues to talk, he felt calm, at ease. The bloodshed did take quite alot from him. He did not let it show though, hiding it behind his arrogance, pride and emotionless eyes.

He was still afraid, what if Creed's name came up? What will he do? Will he be able to pull the trigger? He would certainly have to. He wouldnt break the code, not again. The first and only time he had done so had been a total disaster. It had twisted his life beyond recognition. It still escaped him, why had he broken it in the first place?
"Kayla." He said her name out aloud, his tongue carassing it as if it were a child. He remembered the night very well. He'd prepared like he always did. The plan was in place, the weapon of choice ready. It was to be quick, very. The girl was defenceless, innocent. The purpose, as he learnt later was to shake Hector Creed. The girl's innocence didnt bother him in the slightest, he'd killed many who had no play in anything before.

He crept into the apartment, arriving through the door. It was a pretty modest place, nothing lavish, but nowhere pathetic too. The lock was quite simple, nothing that caused him any hinderance. What really annoyed him was the fact that the girl wasnt there. He waited for her to come, sitting in full view. He locked the door. It'd give off a much better effect. Theatrics was his speciality and weakness, some said.
After a full, long, excrutiating 15 minutes, he heard somebody behind the door. He'd kill whoever that was out of mere frustration, he thought. The person fidgeted with the lock, making Hound more agitated. The door swung finally open, it was the girl, he was sure. She was carrying a huge load of groceries which hid half her torso including her face. The room was dark, the only light came from an open window to the doorway, a couple paces from where she stood. Fuck. He thought. Theatrics gone to hell. She couldnt see him.

She tried to open the lights, causing the bags to topple. They fell on the floor, grocery scattering across the floor. Hound got his first glance. With a jolt, he bounded from the door to hide besides the dresser. What the- Hound thought. The girl was farely simple, very simple. She had started to laugh at what had happened, the tinkling sound annoyed Hound to no ends. What stupid person'd laugh at his own screw up? What annoyed him more was his behaviour. He was baffled. Why had he hid? The Great John Hound had run and taken refuge besides a dresser. From a girl. What. The. Hell. He frowned.

The lights came on as the girl's laughter faded. He remained hidden, the dresser big enough to hide him from the girl for the time being. He shook his head in disappointment. What was he doing. He peaked from his hiding place, the girl was busy collecting what had fallen. She was still smiling, a full, teethy smile. Her black hair were tied in a pony tail. The small, slightly chubby creature with the teethy smile and black hair pissed him off. She annoyed him to no ends.

Yet he didnot approach her, didnot take out his gun and put a bullet in her head as he was instructed to. He just held back. Waiting, but for what? She started humming some stupid song. Will she stop?! He thought, clenching his teeth.

She finally picked up the fallen stuff and put it on a table. Hound took a deep breath. Holding it in, he bounded towards her, taking out a gun from the holder on his waist. The girl turned towards him and yelped, not noticing the gun in his hand. She started laughing.

"Mister you gave me a fright. Are you here to rob something? I dont have anything valuable, but if you need help, I could give you some money?" She smiled, her eyes sparkling.

He looked at her, confused. What type of a person was this?

A "What?" was all he could manage.

"Okay, so why are you here?" She asked, taking a step back and looking at him. "By the looks of you, you dont need anything. I'm an innocent girl, Mister, I dont have anything to do with anything."

He frowned at her, baffled.

"Aren't you afraid?" He whispered.

"Of what?" She shrugged.

"Shut up." He put his gun between her eyes. For some reason, he wasnt quite sure about what he should do next.

The girl continued to look at him. Her brown eyes seemed to penetrate his, right to the soul. This was odd. She had a gun on her forhead and she wasnt reacting at all. She was supposed to be pleading or running by now, yet here she stood.

The resolve on the girl's features and the utter bravery in the face of death astounded him. She's a Creed after all, he thought. He tried to pull the trigger, but his finger wouldnt budge. He put both his hands on the gun and tried again.

That day, for the first time in his "career", he hadnt carried out a kill. He couldnt pull the trigger.