Thread: Internet Killers [	Mr Quixotic & Dovakitten]

RE Internet Killers Very Dark Content The man's internal body clock woke him at 6am, as it did every day, regardless of how many hours he'd slept, alert and refreshed. He didn't require coffee to pep him up like so many others, but enjoyed the taste so, after he showered and dressed, he brewed himself a cup, and sat at his computer. He was curious to see if the women had answered. He blew the steam from his mug, and lifted it to his lips as checked the message board. He wasn't totally surprised to see that she hadn't. Probably scared the shit out of her with the use of her name. The man chuckled at that thought, and picked up the photo which still lay on his desk to bring it close to his face and focus in on her jade green eyes. Are you for real, Analise Helm? I'm going to find out. The urge that had been building for the previous months was still there, but it had changed. As he dropped the picture to the desk he felt totally calm, and in control. Just as he'd been immediately prior to taking his two previous victims. The time was close. Whether the next would be the woman whose image lay before him, he was unsure. The man would discover the answer that night, when he paid her a visit. The day passed in a blur. Interminable meetings with white collar clients - a Law Firm whose website had been hacked, and a Government Agency who had ignored his advice to upgrade their server, and now had been hit by a barrage of spam. He wanted to strangle them for their stupidity. However, by 4pm his work was done, and he had time to research. What he discovered un-nerved him a little. Analise Helm. Parents dead. Adopted by aunt and uncle. Never married. No children. Worked as a translator, and was currently assisting the FBI in an investigation. It was the last which occupied his mind, and the phrase repeated itself over and over in his head. Assisting the FBI. Assisting the FBI. Assisting the FBI. As he entered his blue Ford Taurus he pondered that fact, and his next move. Was the bitch playing him? It was true that he had no record, but with both of his victims he'd neither worn gloves or a condom. Which is why he needed to be careful. If he was ever suspected, and required to give a DNA sample, the police would have more than enough evidence to secure a conviction. He'd contemplated taking precautions, but quickly dismissed the idea. The 'wet work' and naked physical contact was the rush that feeling of the victims nails scratching his wrists as they struggled to escape the veins which throbbed against his fingertips as he slowly increased the pressure on their larynx, the release of his seed deep inside them as they gasped for breath, and kicked out in terror the warmth of the blood that spurted onto his skin when he sliced through a vein. Without that, it would be nothing. The man parked his vehicle a mile from Analise's address. He'd timed his arrival for just after sunset, and reconnoitered the area as he made his way towards her residence on foot. He'd seen nothing suspicious, but he wasn't going to be stupid enough to burst into her house, only to be met by the FBI. He'd need to change plans. He walked casually - a man on a leisurely stroll - and took in the surroundings. He'd not seen another living soul by the time he'd arrived at the end of the street, and that gave him the confidence to return close to where she lived, and think about what he was going to do. He stood there, unmoving, and stared at a house across the road. However, it wasn't Analise's residence, it was her neighbour's. As he'd approached, a figure had stepped across a lighted window - that of a woman - and it had given him an idea. He watched for half an hour, then as sure as he could be that she was alone, he made his move. Can I help you? Hi there, I'm looking for Analise Helm The slim and athletic, brown haired and bespectacled blue-eyed man, who wore a pair of crisp khaki pants, and white buttoned dress-shirt with pale pink tie, smiled at the woman who'd answered the knock. He appeared anything but the serial rapist and murderer he truly was. Oh, Analise. She's next door. The woman waved her hand in that direction, and seemed almost disappointed that the attractive visitor hadn't come seeking her. That would soon change. As she spoke, the man's eyes darted around what else he could see of the house. Reassured that she was indeed alone, his next movements were as quick as a snake. Scream, and I will fucking kill you. One hand had pressed a blade to her stomach, and the fingers of the other clamped her throat. In less than a second, he had her pinned against the foyer wall, and kicked the door shut behind them. Anyone else here? Her lips quivered, and tears welled in her eyes as her head shook side to side. Good. You and I are going to have a talk. His only regret was that he couldn't take the time to really enjoy it. He was here for information, and wary about making too much noise. The woman was weak - a couple of slaps, a punch in the gut, and the threat of his cigarette lighter, quickly elicited all that he needed. Analise Helm did live next door. No, she I haven't noticed any visitors lately. Analise works as a translator, for all sorts of people, including the FBI. If anything strange was going on, she would have told me. We're great friends, we jog together every morning. The man rolled his eyes he didn't think Analise would be the type to befriend this gossipy bitch. She might even be glad to see her dead. He left her a few minutes later. The woman's lifeless body lay naked, bound to her kitchen table with arms and legs spread, and a pair of panties stuffed in her mouth. Blood sprayed from a gaping wound in her throat, and a crucifix had been carved into her abdomen and chest. The last was an afterthought. He wasn't a godly man, in fact quite the opposite, but thought it may throw the police off the scent, and have them on the hunt for some religious nutter. He'd also ejaculated on her body. There was one other thing, but he'd leave that for Analise to discover. The man cleaned up in the bathroom, then let himself out the back door. He glanced up at Analise's house with a smile, and whistled quietly as he made his way back to his car. He'd brought a change of attire - jeans and a t-shirt - and slipped into them, throwing his blood-stained clothes in a plastic bag. He hadn't eaten since lunchtime, so after putting a few miles between him and the scene of the crime, he pulled into a McDonald's. The man stuffed the plastic bag into a dumpster outside the restaurant, then walked inside to place his order Two Big Macs, large fries, and a hash brown, with a regular coke. Killing always made him hungry. He carried his tray to an empty table, and opened up the laptop he'd brought with him to make use of the free wireless. His eyes focused on the PM with the subject line, 'Pig Squeals'. She must have opened his messages, and he was curious to see how she'd respond to the use of her name. The man showed no reaction as he took in her taunts. If he'd received them that morning, he might have been pissed, but now, if anything, they amused him. She'd soon discover, without doubt, that he was a man of his word. Was she a woman of hers? She did have a set of figurative balls, he had to give her that. As he popped a french fry into his mouth and re-read the second line, he allowed himself a chuckle. He'd expected her to be totally freaked out, but she either had more strength that he'd given her credit for. Or covered her fear well. Subject Piq Squeals Message Not afraid? Do you always leave mid-conversation just when it starts to get interesting, without saying goodbye? Not very polite, Analise. Unfortunately, I'm not great with directions, and must have mixed up the address. Some lady named Whitney answered the door. Claimed to be a friend of yours? Don't worry, I didn't rape her - chubby women aren't my type. If you go visit, I'd appreciate a favour. I dropped a ring in all the excitement and would love to have it returned. It may have rolled under the living room sofa. If I hear this item on the news tomorrow, you're next! Message sent. What he'd neglected to tell Analise was that the ring was still attached to poor Whitney's finger.