FicWad

A/N: For anyone who read the first chapter before it was edited (2/3/2013) then I just want to pre-warn I deleted half of that chapter. I just felt like the last part was sort of unncessary, and with it gone it was easier to begin this chapter.
So yeah, if you read Chapter one before this chapter was up please just be aware things have changed.
And with that, don't forget to R&R. Thanks guys
xo


The bells for mass were still ringing as King exited the church, unbuttoning the top of his shirt and whipping out the white tab of his collar as he struggled to hide his grin. People were walking past him into the church, but no one paid him any attention. He was like a ghost, slipping by unseen, his presence hardly registered.

There was a dark car waiting for King as he exited the churchyard and stepped onto the street. The car was hardly subtle, an all black Daimler regency with tinted windows and a personal driver. The car was receiving looks of great interest from passersby, but King was barely spared a glance as he opened the door to the back and slid onto the leather seat.

King didn’t have to say anything to the driver as he settled back and laid his arm across the back of the seat, smirking smugly to himself as the car pulled away from the kerb and made its way down the road. People watched it as it passed, but King was safely hidden behind tinted glass. Not that anyone would have noticed him anyway. The good thing about having a flash car was that people rarely remembered the men inside.

“How long did I take?” King asked curiously once they had been driving for a few minutes. He had grown bored of looking out the window and examining his nails, so he turned his attention to the elderly man driving him.

“About twenty five minutes sir.”

“Mm... Not bad.” King mused. It wasn’t the fastest he had killed someone, but then you shouldn’t rush art. “I suppose no one seemed suspicious that anything was going on inside the church?” He asked, nodding when the driver assured him all was well.

“People were more interested in the car I think sir.” He said softly, his voice smooth and strong despite his clear age. He was well into sixties, though King had never thought to ask him his actual age. He didn’t know his birthday, and the man didn’t know his either. Though the driver was the closest thing King had to any real family.

“Always the way.” King purred, sliding his hand along the leather of the backseat, admiring its shine. The car was always kept in pristine condition, King may have been a killer but he wasn’t a slob, not that he was ever the one to actually clean the car. “People are so easy to predict... so boring. Sometimes I almost wish they’d notice, make things more interesting...” King went back to examining his nails, sighing to himself as the driver glanced at him in the rear view mirror.

“I hope they don’t notice sir.” He said gently, meeting King’s gaze through the glass for a moment. “If you were ever caught by the police I don’t know what I’d do.”

“The police won’t catch me.” King sneered, drawing out the word ‘me’ in a sing-song voice. “I’m better than them. I’m better than anyone.” He purred, his voice low and dreamy, as if he was talking to himself. “I can outsmart them any day. They’ll never find any evidence to attach me to the murders.” He sighed, turning his head to look out the window again, drawing the discussion to a close.

King may have had a flair for the dramatics, he may have come across as not entirely sane, but he was a smart man. Some might say he was even too smart. He knew every trick there was when it came to getting rid of evidence, he knew the perfect balance of hiding things where no one would find them and yet also hiding things in plain sight. He had been killing people since he was thirteen years old, and animals before then, and he had never once been caught.

It would be wrong however to say that King was a murderer. Though he killed people it wasn’t due to any animosity he held. He supposed if he ever was caught and taken to a court of law then he’d be convicted under premeditated murder, but what he did was so much more complex than simple murder. So much more beautiful.

King was an artist. He didn’t make art with paints and a brush like other artists, he didn’t make sculptures or collage or sketches. He made art with blood and bodies, and words whispered in the final moments of another person’s life; in that crystal clear moment when death fell over a victim like a shroud and King got to see the life drain from their eyes. He was Da Vinci; he was Shakespeare; he was God.

“I believe you have another client sir.” King looked over with minimal interest as the car rolled smoothly up a long driveway to a small manor house, a stranger’s car sat in the driveway.

The manor was set some distance from the main town, surrounded by land and trees hundreds of years old. The property had once belonged to a wealthy, British family, but when King had acquired it, it had been falling into disrepair. Nobody had wanted it or saw the potential in it, he had bought the rights to the land just weeks before the house was due to be demolished and within five years the place had been restored to its original glory.

People rarely came by this way, the house was believed to be haunted and only teenagers looking for a fright had held any interest in it. Now that it was clean and furnished and had a person living in it no one so much as stepped foot on the surrounding land let alone made the long walk up the drive to the front door. That is... No one who didn’t have business with the owner.

“I’m going to change my clothes.” King drawled slowly in his soft, deep voice. “Keep my client busy until I am ready for him. Twenty minutes should suffice.” The car by now had come to a stop and King ever so slowly turned to open the door and slide out onto the gravel of the driveway.

“Of course sir.” The driver also exited the Daimler, but unlike King he did not head for the house but instead made his way instantly over to the small blue car waiting some feet away. A man was still sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was staring straight forward, and even through the windows it was obvious he was clenching his teeth. Clients often came to them in this state, or worse. Very few ever arrived composed.

“Excuse me sir.” King’s driver knocked gently on the window of the blue car, smiling in a friendly way at the man inside when his head jerked over to look at him. “Can I help you?”

For a long moment the man in the blue car was perfectly still, just gazing with wide eyes at the elderly man and feeling his heart race. He had been hesitant about coming here ever since the idea had first come into his mind, and in that moment he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. He considered just ignoring the driver outside his car and instead just starting the engine and driving away from the manor before anything else could happen. But when he glanced at the keys still dangling in the ignition he found he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Summoning his courage the man instead turned to his door and slowly, ever so slowly, pushed it open. He bit his lip as he gazed with frightened eyes up at the Daimler driver, slowly stepping out onto the driveway and pressing his back against his car immediately after closing the door.

“I – I’m here to see K – King?” He didn’t mean for the words to come out like a question but somehow they did. The elderly man smiled comfortingly at him though, helping to dispel some of the younger mans nerves.

“Of course. I help Mr King manage his clients, if you would like to follow me into the house then Mr King will see you presently.” King’s driver smiled sweetly at the nervous man and turned to lead the way into the house, the man following him slowly, looking hesitant still.

As they approached the steps to the veranda the younger man glanced nervously at the side of the driver’s face, biting his lip. “Thank you.” He offered quietly, getting no response. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Mr Hunter.” The driver, Hunter, smiled at the client. “And what may I call you?”

“Uh, my name is Matt.” The man responded, looking nervously at Hunter as they stepped up to the door of the manor and Matt was led inside. The entrance hall was spacious with a red carpeted stairway to the left, leading up to the second floor where a line of doors could be seen. Matt tried to imagine how many rooms this house had, but he didn’t dare ask as Hunter continued walking down a hallway to the right.

“Are you and Mr King the only people who live here?” He asked quietly, gazing around with wide eyes. He lived in a tiny, mould infested apartment and he found it hard to imagine ever having enough money to live in a place like this. How did people ever get that rich?

“More or less.” Hunter’s reply confused Matt but he didn’t ask him to explain. He blushed, sensing perhaps he wasn’t expected to make conversation with the quiet driver. He kept silent from then on, following the elderly man to the kitchen where he quietly declined the offer of a drink.

“Mr King will only be a moment. I shall return to collect you when he is ready to see you.” Hunter said lightly, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked tall and foreboding in his black suit and drivers cap, but Matt summoned up a shaky smile and nodded before the man left the room.

Once Hunter had gone Matt sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing a hand over them and forcing himself to take a deep breath. He felt like he was in out of his depth but he couldn’t leave. He had promised himself he would get revenge for what had happened to him and if this was the only way to do it then so be it.

Sitting alone in the kitchen time dragged for the young man, too afraid to move or touch anything in case he wasn’t allowed to. The whole place looked pristine and modern, like a show home. The kitchen didn’t look as though it had ever even been used and it made Matt feel even more self conscious over his grubby blue jeans and creased t-shirt. He wished he had had the forethought to dress nicely, but then he hadn’t really imagined a paid killer would care about his clients’ appearance.

Matt sighed and glanced out the kitchen window, at the view outside of a large back garden which was separated from the surrounding trees and fields by nothing more than a small picket fence. Matt imagined the surrounding land was owned by Mr King too and he found himself wondering again how anyone could be this successful. Matt had a job, it wasn’t anything exciting or particularly well paid, but he got more than minimum wage and saved as much as he could and he was still only just scraping by.

“Mr King will see you now.” Matt jumped and turned away from the kitchen window with a small blush, Hunter was back and stood in the doorway with a somewhat bored smile playing about his lips. He had removed his drivers cap but he was still wearing his suit and white gloves.

“Oh, uh right. Thanks.” Matt blushed even more as he hurried to the doorway, Hunter turning slowly on his heel and keeping silent as he began to stride back down along the hallway he had originally brought James down. The younger man followed him closely, tripping slightly over his own feet due to nerves. His heart had started to race and he felt breathless at the thought of meeting King. He couldn’t imagine what he was going to be like or how he should act around him and that frightened him more than anything.

Hunter was silent as he led Matt up the stair case in the entrance hall to the second floor. He turned left down the upper landing, walking past every door until he came to the very last one. He didn’t so much as look at Matt before rapping his knuckles sharply against the wood of the door, barely a second passing before a soft, smooth voice bid them enter.

“Go on.” Hunter pressed a hand between Matt’s shoulder blades, opening the door for him and nudging him inside before the younger man could consider turning and leaving. He stumbled inside with a blush, his heart jumping to his throat as he set eyes on King for the first time.

Matt found himself in a study like room, with a mahogany desk and three leather seats, one behind the desk and two infront. A large bookcase dominated the space, covering the whole of the back wall and stocked full of antique books. The dark grey carpet was thick and plush and it felt soft to Matt even through his battered old trainers. King himself was stood beside the desk, one of the books open in his hands though he snapped it shut with a grin when he looked at Matt.

“Come in, come in.” He purred in that deep, sing song voice of his. “Hunter tells me your name is Matt?” King smiled warmly but turned quickly to place the book back into the bookcase, filling the only gap.

“I... Yes.” Matt answered quietly, walking slowly across the room until he was stood behind the two leather chairs infront of the desk. He felt like he ought to say more, but no words came to mind. He didn’t know how these situations were supposed to go. Should he just launch straight into why he was here? What did other people do?

“Are you... Mr King?” He finally asked, his cheeks still tinged a light pink. King turned to look at him with a smirk, his eyes sparkling and Matt felt his heart jump in his chest. There was something about the well dressed man, something hidden behind his friendly expression and expensive suit that made Matt’s skin crawl. His eyes were full of amusement, and yet at the same time they held a sort of detachment. Matt got the distinct feeling that the man he was stood in the room with was the most dangerous man he had ever met, and Matt had met some very dangerous men.

“Oh please, just call me King.” King smirked, gesturing for Matt to sit down in one of the chairs as he sat down in the one behind the desk. He perched daintily on the end of his seat, perfectly manicured hands resting interlinked on top of the desk. He grinned at Matt the whole time he awkwardly pulled out one of the heavy chairs and sat down, spending a moment trying to subtly pull the chair forward closer to the desk before eventually giving up with a heated blush on his cheeks when he discovered he just didn’t have the strength.

“So,” King finally spoke up again after he and Matt had both sat perfectly still and silent for a few seconds. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

Matt raised his eyebrows, gazing up at King from where his head was slightly bowed. He had his arms wrapped around his stomach and he was picking at the sides of his shirt. He felt nervous, completely out of his comfort zone, and he found himself lost as to where to begin. What had brought him here? He suddenly felt like his reasons were idiotic and he didn’t want to say them to this handsome, intimidating man.

“Well?” King pushed after growing bored of waiting for Matt to speak. “How can I help you?” He asked more plainly, frowning as he leant forward.

“I... I heard that you...”

“Kill people?” King smirked, tilting his head to the side and smirking at the young man shaking across from him. “You heard correct. Now stop quivering and tell me who it is you want me to dispose of.” King’s voice had dropped down into a low purr, Matt imagined it was supposed to sound tempting but it came across as threatening.

“I... Th – There’s a man... A man who... He ruined my life.” Matt’s voice cut off, choked in his throat and he had to take a deep breath, shaking more visibly now as tears burnt in his eyes. “I want him dead.”

“Naturally.” King drawled, resisting the urge to examine his nails and show just how bored he really was. It was just the same old story. Every client he ever had were all the same. Their stories had their differences, but ultimately they all viewed themselves as the innocent, and it was King’s task to rid them of the evil villain in their life. King found it ridiculous that all these people came to him believing their story was something special, something different. They were all just the same.

“So, this man you want dead, where do I find him?” King asked in a monotone, looking at Matt with no expression on his face. The younger man looked up at him with still frightened eyes, though to King’s amusement he seemed to grow offended when he realised how disinterested King was.

“This man killed my parents.” Matt snapped, his heart racing but some of his fear was getting taken over with frustration. “I was six years old and he left me an orphan.” He snarled, a lump in his throat, King just continuing to stare at him with a bored expression.

Matt had spent his whole life having to face the fact that no one would understand what he had been through. Anyone he had trusted enough to tell the truth to had thought he was lying, or had simply not known how to react and so would disappear from his life quickly. He had been forced to move from foster home to foster home until he turned eighteen, all the time being haunted by nightmares of the night his parents died.

“I promised myself I would never forget that man’s face.” Matt continued, his voice softer now. His hands were still shaking as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “I won’t rest until I know he’s dead.”

King looked over with minimal interest as Matt unfolded the paper and slid it across the desk towards him. King made no effort to touch it, though he craned his neck to look at the image drawn across it. It was a crude sketch, made in pencil and then gone over in black biro. King imagined it was supposed to be a sketch of the killer, but it posed little help to him.

“His face is unimportant to me.” He drawled, glancing at Matt through his lashes. “Tell me where to find him, and then we can start discussing prices.”

“I don’t know where to find him.” Matt sighed, frowning. “I haven’t seen him since I was a child.”

“Really?” King purred, rolling his eyes. “Then indulge me, how on earth do you imagine I am going to find him? He could have left the country for all you know, hell he may already be dead. I am a killer Matthew, I kill people. I don’t find them, I kill them, do you understand what I’m saying?”

Matt blushed, bowing his head and clenching his fists for a moment. He felt like King was patronising him, just like everybody else in his life and he glared up at him again.

“I was told you could help me.”

“I don’t help people.” King shrugged, his voice low and bored. “I kill people.” King rose to his feet, smoothing out imaginary creases in his suit before making his way to the door. He turned to face Matt again once he reached it, laying his hand on the door knob and quirking an eyebrow at the younger man. “If you can find your man then by all means, come back and let me know.” He smiled sweetly, Matt’s face falling as he slowly rose to his feet.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to... Kick me out?” He asked stiffly, trying not to let his disappointment and hurt show through in his voice. He was conscious of the fact people always saw him as being weak and naive, and he certainly didn’t want a paid killer to think that about him.

“As I have said, there is nothing more I can do to help you.” King shrugged, his voice sickly sweet. “As such there is no reason for you to dwell here. Unless you were expecting me to ask you to stay for tea?”

Matt blushed and scowled at the sarcasm, wrapping his arms tighter around himself as he sighed and gave a short, sharp nod of his head.

“Right. Well uh... Fine. Right. I’ll just be off then.” He mumbled, striding to the door as King smiled and opened it for him. Matt hesitated just before he could step through it, turning his gaze onto King again for a second and feeling his stomach lurch. Even through his sweet smile he could see King was a man to fear.

“Is there... Is there nothing you can do?” Matt asked quietly, feeling frightened just to ask. “Anyone you could put me in contact with perhaps? Someone who could help?”

“Afraid not.” King answered without giving it a moment’s thought, turning to give Matt a helpful shove through the door. “I’m sure you remember your way out. Good luck catching your man.” He practically sang, grinning as he twirled gracefully , slamming the door shut at the same time before walking back to his desk with Matt now safely out of the room.

Outside in the hallway Matt was stood staring at the closed door with tears brimming in his eyes. He scoffed and turned away, feeling humiliated and angry. The sensation of water burning in his eyes embarrassed him and he took a deep breath to try and compose as he made his way slowly back towards the stair case.

The feeling of disappointment that gripped him felt suffocating, his lungs squeezing and his throat growing tight. He had been so certain that if he could just summon the courage to come here then he would finally get the revenge he had been hoping for... This outcome he had never even considered. When he had heard about King’s services he’d had no idea he’d have to actually know where his parent’s killer was, and now that he did a wave of hopelessness washed over him.

Matt didn’t know why his parents had been killed, he clung to the hope that their killer had just been a stranger who had come into their home and killed them for no real reason. He had had it suggested to him by the few people he had told that perhaps the killer had known his parents. Maybe they had been involved with people they shouldn’t have, maybe they owed someone money... It was a theory Matt had always strongly denied. Though the memories he had of his parents were few and vague he knew they were good people and he wouldn’t consider anything that would ruin that for him. But as he walked to his car outside King’s house he knew he would now have no choice but to consider everything if he was ever going to find their killer.

Matt sighed as he slid into his car, putting the key into the ignition but not starting it yet. He gazed through the windshield at the manor, wondering about King and trying to work him out. The man was strange... Dangerous, that much was obvious. But Matt wondered if there was more to him than that, he seemed to have a theatrical flair to how he acted, but maybe that was just a front. Matt had been psychoanalysed so much through his life he found he did it himself to most people without even meaning to, and as he reluctantly drove away from King’s home his mind was spinning with the amount of theories and thoughts surrounding the strange man Matt had just met.

Back at the manor King was watching the blue car reverse down his driveway. He was frowning to himself, resting his hand on the wall beside the window and tapping his fingers slowly. In his other hand he was holding the sketch Matt had left on his desk. He had examined it more closely now the younger man had left, but he was sure he didn’t know the person depicted in pen. He was sure he would be able to find out who they were easily though.

King hummed quietly to himself and turned away from the window, walking to his desk and opening one of the drawers. He took a pin out of a small box inside and then strolled to the wall, gazing at it for a moment before suddenly lunging forward and stabbing the pin through the drawing and into the wall behind it. He stood back afterwards and straightened his tie, staring at the drawing for just a moment longer before he turned and left the room.

He got the feeling he would be seeing Matt again very soon.