Ahndrian Archives

The Killer

Nietzsche once said, “one should die proudly when it is no longer possible to live proudly. Death should be chosen freely, -- death at the right time, faced clearly and joyfully and embraced while one is surrounded by one's children and other witnesses.” I have never had such companionship in my life, but there are times when I understood those words more than my own desire to live. For me, living was something not meant to be filled with worry. I did not worry about consequence, nor did I worry about reward. Whether good or bad, consequence seemed...unavoidable.

I am ordinary. I have no particular talents. I have no genuine skill set to which I have been blessed. I am not special in any sort of way, but I do exist. For existing, through no particular choice of my own, I have succumbed to the illness many deem, living. Am I happy to be living? Of course, I am. Despite my upbringing, an alcoholic mother and a holier than thou father, my childhood was better than most. I had a roof over my head. I had food in my stomach, every night. I had parents who cared that I did better than them when I was older. I had, a life.

Though I do not believe my feelings on living is the particular question that needed to be asked. I do believe, at this moment in time, the question worth asking is, was I ever truly alive? I do not know the answer to that question. I have searched my entire life for that answer. I have done many things. I have experienced many things. I have lost many more. At the young age of thirty-six, I have outlived nearly every person I have ever met. Once again, by no choice of my own.

This is how I have lived my life. Searching for answers to my mundane existence. The wasted hours I spent in that high-rise office. My good for nothing, crooked nosed boss would spit in my face every day. The woman I thought would be the love of my life, left me for another woman. Eventually, I made choices of my own. Since I had only lived by choices made by others for so long. They were not always good choices. None of them were good choices. At least that is how others saw them. However, it was through my choices that I felt so very much alive. For the briefest of moments, I caught a glimpse of that feeling you see on television. When a sports star scores the game winning points. When a fighter claims their moment of glory in the ring. When a mother looks into their child’s eyes for the first time. I felt my heart beating in my chest when I made my own choices. It will always be what I covet the most. Even if the feeling was only fleeting and I had to spend my entire life chasing it again and again.

It is because of these things that I find that moment in time so unfortunate. That light tapping up the steps as she came upon me. I sat back in my hard leather chair and stared at the cluttered shelves lining my old dusty office. I sipped the dark brown liquor swirling in my glass and waited. I waited as the door crept open and the shaded wisp of her cloak danced around in the airtight room. The stench of death became stronger the more she shrank the empty space between us. I looked away from her and peered around the room. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke. A horrific sound, so sweet, yet foreboding.

“It’s good to see you again, Harrison.” She spoke kindly. It almost made me gag.

“Eclipse. I do not think this will be so good for me.”

“You know that I no longer go by that name. I abandoned it when I accepted this post.” She replied.

“Ah yes, you are the almighty now. The great executioner of our people.” I tossed back the last of the whisky in my glass and set it down with a sharp tap.

A smile danced on her lips. She stepped slowly up to my desk and pulled back the chair opposite me. She descended into the chair and propped her legs up on my desk. I looked her over again and again. She was different. She was not the same woman I met all those years ago. The woman whose hair would change colors every month. Bright, fluorescent colors that I could spot from the densest of crowds. I wanted to catch a glimpse of her usual spark as she sat across from me with that repugnant smirk on her face. It was nowhere to be found. No hint of cynicism or determination on her face.

“You know it isn’t like that, Harry. I do what I have to do. You know that’s my job.”

“No.” I shot forward in my chair. “You do not get to call me that. Not anymore.”

I could feel the vein pulsating in my neck. I was not sure why these feelings always came up around her. She brought out the worst in me. That was her effect. She made you see everything that was wrong with you because she was so damn perfect. She was so much better than the rest of us.

“Fine, Harrison, or should I call you Azrael? That’s what they call you now isn’t it? Though it’s not at all accurate.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Azrael, hm? That is a new one.” I sat back and met her eyes. “That is the name all the newspapers have been calling that new killer, right?”

“Drop the act, Harrison. We know. We gathered our own evidence. We figured it out.”

“Right. Right. Because you all never got it wrong before, huh? You are not cops. You are a bunch of self-righteous power hungry. My father would have loved you. The two of you could have bonded atop your self-appointed thrones.”

“Always so angry at the world. Blaming others for the things you could have changed.” She sat back with such comfort and I could not stand to look at it so casually. “You could have been great, Harry. You squandered it. All on some ridiculous-.”

“Do not call my dreams ridiculous!” I slammed my hands against the desk. I let her get to me and that was not going to be the way I made it out of here alive. “I gave everything to that lab. They removed me because they were scared of progress. They were terrified that I might be right. When I look at the sorry state of the world we live in, I know I was.”

Eclipse laughed at my words. She once believed in me as well. Someone I could trust. That felt like a lifetime ago. Those we once knew become strangers. Those who are strangers, stay that way. At least, that is how it is if you are like me. I looked her over again and again. I still could not believe she was the same woman. Her clothes were similar, but somehow different. The sleeves on her jacket were not ripped off. Her jeans presented no tears. Her hair a natural color, but she wore it in the same style. The years had aged her, but she was still her. There was no denying that impish grin painted on her face.

“You are implying that I am this, Azrael. This serial killer of sorts. Correct?” I asked.

“No, I’m directly stating it. I have no doubt in my mind that it’s you.”

“Then why am I still alive?”

She sighed and leaned forward. She placed her elbows on the desk and relaxed her face. “The fact that I’m speaking with you like this, giving you any sort of reprieve, is because we were friends once, Harry.” She answered.

Tsk.

“Friends, huh? That is rich coming from you. Too bad I do not believe a word of it.” I leaned into her gaze. I met her eyes and attempted to match her intensity.

“You have doubts. I can see them behind that stare of yours. You wanted to confront me to make sure you could be certain I was guilty. Well I have news for you. It...is...not...me.” I eased back against my chair with a smile.

I could see the anger rising in her. I had done the one thing she was never good at handling. I called her out. She was so used to outsmarting everyone, she could barely handle being discovered in her own schemes. She hesitated before cracking a smile and leaning back in her own chair.

“That’s what you think huh? I have the evidence, Harry. I don’t need you to convince me you did it. It’s clear as day. In truth, I did want to confront you. Not to find out if you did it. I wanted to know, why? How could you do something so terrible?” She looked at me with a sort of pity.

I could feel the snarl manifesting in my upper lip, but I took a deep breath instead. Her eyes were locked on mine. I had to keep things moving. I looked at my watch. Half past seven. Time was moving slowly. I glanced around the room and looked over the walls, the vents, and the door. I wondered how long I could keep this going.

“Fine. If you are so convinced, then I would love to know how. Please, present me with your evidence. How, dear friend, are you so convinced that I am your killer?” I asked.

“Fine, I’ll tell you and when this is all done, I expect you to leave this place with me. No arguments.”