It was evening, the setting sun casting a red glow across the landscape as Jerome walked home, mentally a tired man. He had underestimated the stress of the job. If he didn't have Eckhard, he doubted he could make it through. It wasn't the dead bodies or the other gruesome things that had happened, no none of them disgusted him as they should have, what he was tired about was pointless chore of evidence gathering he had done. They had split the entire crime scene into distinct squares and he required dig through one. Suffice to say he had found nothing that would point to him in case with evidence but he still continued scouring the area wishing he had a percent of the enthusiasm Blake showed. He had set the fire and now ironically he was searching for the criminal. He crunched down on a dry granola bar he had picked up from the break room, the only food he had today. When other went for lunch he took the chance to scour through the entire room to find if there was anything he had missed and with Eckhard's help he had confirmed it. He paused as he watched cars fly by across the road. It was nearing twenty-four hours since he took over this body and yet he had been unable to find out anything new about his case other than what he already knew. He had half a mind to visit prison, see how his original body was doing. He had heard them say that they couldn't kill him, not that he wanted to go back into his old body anyhow. He took another bite of the granola bar and then grimaced. He had tortured himself enough, he proceeded to through the rest of the bar into a bin and slowly walked back home. As he climbed the stairs to his room he saw a boy sitting there, the same one he had seen this morning. The boy had what he could only guess to be a smartphone in his hands, curiously watching or playing.
"Hey Haitham," he called out as he approached the child.
The boy looked up at him.
"Hello Mr. Hall," the boy said, causing Jerome to grimace, it was the same term of address as that artificial intelligence.
"Call me Jerome," he said.
"Je..rome," the boy said slowly as if he was thinking deeply about it.
"Yeah, just Jerome, no need to call me, Mr. Hall," he said with a smile. "What are you doing out here?"
"Pa and ma need the room to themselves," he said and at this Jerome raised an eyebrow.
Well, to be fair on the parents it was only one large room but they couldn't honestly be doing 'it' whilst letting their child sit outside, surely they had to have better priorities.
"Why?" he asked.
"Pa and ma said they needed the room to themselves," he repeated.
Jerome sighed as he looked at the child and then moved up the stairs walking to what he assumed was the child's house or room. He stood outside it and raised his arm to knock when he heard a thump from inside and sounds of crashing steel and glass. His eyes narrowed, had his assumption been correct? He looked at the child who was now looking up at him with some semblance of pleading in his eyes, biting his lips.
"Tell me Haitham," he said going over and kneeling down next to the boy. "What exactly are they doing inside and who told you to come out here?"
"Pa and ma need the room," the boy repeated again with a slight shudder.
Jerome grit his teeth, nothing good would come of it but he had seen it and heard it, he could hardly ignore it. He was not a monster…yet. He went up and knocked on the door and the boy looked at him readily. He heard more crashes and bangs inside and he knocked louder.
"WHAT IS IT!!" roared a voice from inside. "WE'RE BUSY HERE!!"
Holding onto his self control he spoke in the utmost calm voice, "Open the door sir, it's the police."
All of a sudden, the sounds inside the apartment ceased. There was sounds of footsteps clambering inside and he knocked on the door again. Around five seconds after the knock and as Jerome was considering kicking in the door, it opened wide and out came a breathless man who swiftly closed the door behind him. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes had a crazy look to him. As soon as the man saw him, his eyes narrowed.
"Yes, what do you want officer?" the man asked.
"There was a lot of sound from inside," said Jerome with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The child was also sitting outside."
Just then Jerome saw the man shoot the kid a look that screamed murder and Jerome snuck a look at the kid to see him turn pale. Well, it appeared the situation was exactly as he had guessed, it was somewhat of a common occurrence and yet that's where the sadness lay, in the truth of it all.
"We were just cooking dinner," said the man with a forced smile. "There was too much smoke inside, we didn't want him to get ill."
Jerome's smile widened, this man really knew how to b*llsh*t.
"What's your name sir?" he asked. "Full name.
"Navid Rostami," said the man gulping.
"I see Navid," said Jerome running a hand over his pistol in full view of the man. "I don't know what you think you're doing in there but if it's what I think, I promise you, it will not end well for you."
"Ha ha ha," Navid laughed nervously as he stepped back from Jerome's glare. "I assure you officer, you've misunderstood."
"I hope I've misunderstood," said Jerome as he suddenly leaned forward planting his forearm on Navid and pushing him up against a wall as he leaned. "Because if I've understood right, it's going to be very painful for you."
"Offic-er," he choked out but Jerome shut him up by squeezing tighter, inhuman strength squeezing down on a terrified normal body, it was a miracle the man hadn't gone through the wall with how Jerome was feeling.
"Listen to what I clearly Navid," he said. "I've lost someone very dear to me yesterday, I've lost what was constituted to be my entire life they day before, you take your kid inside and treat your wife and child with respect because they deserve it for putting up with you, if I hear so much as a wrong peep from that apartment then I'll take you to the top of this building and throw you down from there."
Jerome bared his teeth as he said the sentence, his eyes a mix of deadly seriousness and unnerving calmness. The man however wasn't moving, or agreeing with Jerome who then snarled.
"Am I understood?" asked Jerome and saw the man trying to wave something with his hands at which point he realized he was holding too tight.
He let go to a mild degree but his glare still pinned the man to the wall.
"Do you understand what I said?" asked Jerome again and the man nodded his head quickly.
Jerome looked towards the child who seemed to have regained some color. He then looked back at the man who averted his eyes.
"Take you kid inside now," said Jerome and as the man was about to leave, Jerome swiftly grabbed his shoulder with an iron vice and squeezed making the man wince as the bones crackled under his fingers. "Remember Navid, not a wrong peep."
The man nodded quickly again and he grabbed the kid and ran back into the house. The kid however had the grace to through him a grateful look as he was pulled back into his house by his father who slammed the door shut just as swiftly as he had opened it.
"Another job complete," said Jerome sighing. "Honestly being a police officer's a chore."
He opened the door to his apartment and entered. He spent some time in the shower as he mulled over his thoughts, wondering where on earth he should start with his own case. The informer that apparently knew about this was dead and though Jerome had asked around to some degree he found no information on this informer or about his death which was strange considering he had left that body at the cemetery. Drying his hair he came out of the shower only find that it had turned dark already, the moon was our and the streetlights were on. He pulled on a shirt and a pair of pants for the night ready to get to sleep. He had nothing else to do and in this room he felt like a stranger. It was better to just get to sleep. As he sat down on the bed there was a knock on his door. His first thought was Navid but as he mulled it over he thought why would someone who he had just threatened with death knock on his door. Frowning and wondering who on earth it was this late in the night he went over to the door and peeped through the peephole only to see darkness, there was nothing outside, making him wonder if there was something wrong with the peephole. He should clean it if he has the time.

***

He opened the door with a sigh only to be met by five men, all looking menacing and threatening and dressed impeccably with sunglasses on to boot. They stood outside his door in side by side formation covering the door. Not friends then, thought Jerome to himself.
"Gentlemen," he said with a smile.
One of the men frowned as and unsheathed a knife, one of a large hunting variety. Jerome looked around, he would be afraid of these men and the knife if he was not who he was at present. He stepped closer to the man who tried to back off from the sudden movement but Jerome reached out and grabbed his knife hand.
"Come on in my friends," he said with a laugh and pulled the man in by his knife hand, the man tried to break free but it was of no use.
With no other choice the other four men accompanying, also came into the apartment. Jerome swiveled still clutching the man's knife hand and shut the door with his foot. He then pushed the knife man back as he pushed past the others and walked over to his desk. A couple of them tried to grab him but it was to no avail as he broke their grip and walked to his destination.
"So, what do you want?" he asked as he leaned against his desk, looking at the men with a light smile.
The man with knife came forward with an apprehensive look as he rubbed the hand that Jerome gripped.
"You're still alive," said one of the men with a frown, without taking of their sunglasses, they all looked similar, only varying slightly in height, they all had a shaved head, wore similar suits and had no facial hair, very bland looking people.
Jerome rubbed his hand through his coppery hair, softer hair in his previous body he noted. Jerome also noted that there was over a ninety percent chance that these were the people that killed the previous owner of this body.
"I am still alive," said Jerome nodding. "Is there a problem."
"You should be dead," said the man with the knife.
"You should have made sure of it when you did the job last time," said Jerome, throwing a shot in the dark.
"I will…this time," said the man with the knife, the shot landed, these were the people that killed Jerome Elliot Hall prior to him taking over.
"I always assumed I'd need to look around for you all," he said, voicing his thoughts. "But you all showed up here, makes it easier I suppose."
Jerome let out a small laugh as the man twirled the knife in his hands.
"Why a knife?" asked Jerome getting up of the desk as the men around him tensed up. "There are easier ways to kill, quicker ways as well."
Jerome opened the draw to his desk and snappily pulled out his spare gun, his other one lay on his bed, good thing he had a spare. He pointed the gun at the five men who all seemed highly prepared for the action.
"A gun's much better, much quicker and easier," said Jerome tapping his forehead with the gun. "Less painful for me as well…unless you want to inflict pain."
The man with knife, Jerome noted, his eyes narrowed. This was then perhaps a contract and pain was part of the requirement.
"Who?" asked Jerome as the men looked at him confused. "Who gave you this contract?"
The men however just looked at him without answering and Jerome sighed, that was it, they'd given all the easy answers they could. Jerome put the gun on his desk and smiled viciously.
"This'll be fun, Eckhard…," Jerome said.
<<Activating human error contingencies>>
The adrenaline in his body suddenly shot through the roof as his heart beat at an abnormally high rate and his body tensed up. Suddenly he vanished appearing right in front of the man with the knife who had just enough time to widen his eyes before Jerome pulled at his little finger making him drop the knife which Jerome swiftly caught in mid-air and plunged it into his chest and twisted it in further. The man was still gazing past him when he went limp. Realistically speaking he should be feeling like the world was spinning, he had just killed a man in cold blood but thanks to Eckhard, his emotions were being suppressed and all he felt was weird thrill. He yanked the knife as the man fell to the floor in a pool of blood. He turned to look at the others who had taken this time to create distance, a smart move, but this was his loft and they were all well within his striking distance. They all quickly slid out knives, similar to what he held.
"Well now," Jerome spoke and again he vanished as his muscled pulled out all his latent potential and pushed beyond it.
He appeared next to one of them and parried the knife that was aimed at his face before pushing him into a wall. The man flew back, hit the wall and crumbled to the floor. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain across his back. He turned to realize that one of the had cut him but short afterwards the pain had vanished. Two closed in on him and he parried one of their knives as the one in front cut him across the chest and the other to the side stabbed him in the arm. He gritted his teeth in pain, the wounds would heal extremely quickly but that didn't mean the pain wasn't real. He knew not a thing about knife fights and he wasn't exactly a martial prodigy but his body was leagues above these people. He grabbed one of them by the throat and stabbed down into the man's eye socket pushing the knife through and twisting it, turning the brain into mush. Even as he did that, someone stabbed him in the back and another in the side, near his ribs. He felt the knife cutting through bone but he gritted his teeth and dropped the man he had just killed. Flashing what was the two remaining standing men a wild grin he he twisted around and the knife in his side, the one the man held cut through the ribs to his front, opening a bloody wide gash. The pain, it was all there but he had experienced much worse. The man pulled back his knife horrified.
"Wh…what are you?" he croaked out.
"Just a man till yesterday," said Jerome with a grin as his wound healed at a visible rate, soon closing up, not even leaving a scar behind. "Today, I can play god."
He jumped forward into combat kicking a man ferociously, he hit the roof and came crumbling down onto the floor. The other he grabbed by the throat and pushed the knife into his chest and pulled down, opening him up like a jacket. The blood gushed down as he grinned and the man too fell limp. He dropped the body and turned around. Two men were left alive, albeit at the edge. One he had pushed into a wall and the other he had kicked into the ceiling. He first went to the man at the foot of his bed. Grabbing him by the throat, in one swift motion, broke the neck and threw the body aside. He walked to the other man who was slowly now, gaining consciousness. He crouched in in front of the man with a mad smile. As soon as the man opened his eyes, his mouth opened to scream at the sight. It was a truly gruesome sight. The loft had turned into a lake of blood and he was the grim reaper crouching in front clothed in red. Jerome quickly clamped his hand over the man's mouth.
"I'd ask you to say the name of the man who pulled the hit on me but you're not going to say that are you?" Jerome asked and almost immediately he noticed the man's visible change as his horrified gaze steeled over.
"Tough…well as expected of contractors like you," said Jerome. "I've read in books and watched in movies about how you guys have principles, looks like that applies to real life as well."
Jerome tried twirl the knife like he had the scene the man previously do but he dropped. Laughing at himself, embarrassed at the mistake he quickly picked up the knife. The man looked at him like he was the craziest person alive. With a grin Jerome pushed the knife into man's throat, just under the Adam's apple and the knife slid in like it was cutting through hot butter. The man bucked in his grasp thrice before his grip crushed the man's jaw and the man came to a still.
"Hooo boy," Jerome said as he stood up.
Jerome looked around the sight, something straight out a bloody slasher horror film. Eckhard was wrong, Jerome wasn't the pinnacle of humanity, he had gone far past that, no human could make blood flow like this in their own home. Five corpses, five men lynched and their butcher standing there wearing their blood, he was no human, he was sure of that.
"Eckhard, if you please," said Jerome and suddenly his body split like bees coming out of a large swarm.
These small bees swirled around the room creating a light whirlwind and after a short while regathered and reformed, remaking Jerome who stood their with a wild grin. The knife in his hand had dropped and planted itself into his floor which was now possibly the cleanest thing in the room. There was no blood, no bodies and he looked mighty clean as well, like he had just come out of the shower.
<<Implanting skills, upgrading body>>
Eckhard spoke in his mind as he licked his lips. He smiled as he bent to pick up the knife and images of fast flying bullets and knives flashed past his head as a name came to mind, more like an instinct. The Bishop's Bar, that name had somehow imprinted itself into his mind. He would pay it a visit very soon but for now he would enjoy what he had received. He held the knife, one that had seemed so unfamiliar mere minutes ago, the knife seemed so at home in his hand now and slowly he twirled it mimicking the way the man had done so earlier and it sped up until it vanished into a blur. His eyes went wide as madness flashed across it. They had come and contributed, more would come and give themselves up to him, he was no longer a prey.