Two female figures came up from the basement, lighted with a flashlight. One was the tied-up, gagged, and hooded victim, Chloe. The other was a black-clothed female wearing a biker helmet, Cora Foret, the female serial killer. She called out to her boyfriend and accomplice, Rénald Thibault. ¹Random Cajun names. Don't look them up, lol.

"Love? Did you take care of him already? I got the girl. Let's hurry up and leave before the cops arrive!"

She waited for a few seconds before frowning. She called again, "Love?! Answer me!"

A bad premonition soon washed over her. Although she became his girlfriend out of a common hobby and interest, they were still partners and lovers for over 2 years now, preparing for this killing spree. Even if she was a crazy lust-driven sociopath towards her victims, she actually loved and deeply cared about her own family and close friends. The thought about losing her lover agitated her, but she still managed to think rationally.

Did that guy do him in?! But it was just a single, assumingly untrained guy with a pistol, no different than an angry mob. Rénald, on the other hand, is a guy who trained in the firing range weekly, had terrain and weather advantage, and even used a silencer... Even if he was against a well-trained veteran, under these circumstances, he should be able to take out that guy in a single shot, let alone some run-of-the-mill nobody!

Just then, she heard heavy creaking sounds from upstairs.

Rénald?! No... Those steps are too heavy and lack the grace and finesse Rénald possesses. It's the fat bearded guy. Rénald was probably done in. Shit.

Her eyes started to fill with a mixture of feelings. Containing cold analytical calculation, hatred, mourning, acceptance, and viciousness.

Without Rénald, I probably won't be able to escape this time. Soon, the cops would arrive and find Rénald, dead or alive, and they would then connect it to me. Even if I manage to escape, the national guard would likely catch me as well within mere hours. I'm fucked, and this is all thanks to that fat guy... And his girlfriend? Dunno. One way or another, if I am going to hell, I am taking that fat guy and this girl with me. If I still live through that, I won't let the police catch me. I will commit suicide and see Rénald on the other side.

She then stared at her powerless hostage, thoughts running through her mind.

Do I kill her now, or do I use her as a hostage and human shield to take out the fucker? Hm... No, I want to be satisfied. I want to torture him mentally and show him the futility of his actions. I will let him watch her die and then go down with him. If he lives, then he would suffer for the rest of his life from grief and regrets. If he dies, then it would be a grief-filled death. That is the best revenge.

Just as those thoughts ran through her hate-filled yet calculative mind, she heard creaking sounds coming from the staircase. She pointed the flashlight held in the hand that choke-holding her hostage, with the other, pointed her pistol to the girl's head. Lighted by the flashlights illumination, she saw him, the target of her hatred.

Standing at about 1.75m (with boots on), fat, bearded, unremarkable facial traits, wearing wet casual winter clothes and holding a pistol in one hand and a phone in the other. Minus the pistol, he looked like a random Walmart worker or gas station worker that fills your car with petrol.

She silently stared at him going down the stair, ready to pull the trigger if he does anything.

When he reached 10m in front of her, she then broke the silence and said, "Drop the gun, or the girl gets it."

Unexpectedly, the fat guy actually agreed, "Alright, just don't shoot her."

He then slowly and gradually lowered the pistol down to the ground and then stood up again.

"Hands up in the air, and kick the pistol towards me."

The fat guy complied, raised his hands, and kicked the pistol towards her.

Cora was, in all honesty, just trying her luck and didn't expect him to comply so easily.

Is he an idiot? No, he wouldn't be able to take out Rénald if he was stupid... Does he have something to rely on? Am I missing something?

She frowned and asked to confirm, "How is my partner?"

The fat guy painfully sighed and said, "Unfortunately, I couldn't do much about him. I shot him with a hollowpoint to the upper chest. He probably won't make it until the ambulance arrives."

"..."

"The emergency operator is on the line right now and on speaker. If you have any terms or demands, I suggest you talk to her."

From the phone, the voice of the operator rang out, "Ms or Mr, we will try and listen to your demands to the best of our abilities on the condition that the hostage is safe. If you release the hostage now and surrender, we will ensure fair treatment and trial."

Cora sneered at those words.

Fair treatment and trial, you say? Most likely correct. Assured death penalty? Probably, with a small chance of life imprisonment. I prefer dying on my own terms rather than an electric chair or cocktail and prefer death over life in prison.

Cora then stared at Eli with hatred.

Besides, I prefer taking him out along with me.

She first asked a different question, to sate her curiosity, "How did you manage to find us so quickly? We made sure to not leave any obvious tracks behind, and it was heavily raining."

The fat guy shrugged, "Would you believe me if I said it was pure intuition?"

Cora narrowed her eyes.

If you don't want to tell me, go ahead, but don't tell me such unbelievable bullshit. Screw it. I'm tired of this bullshit. I will shoot him in the legs first and then let him witness his girlfriend's death before shooting him in some vital organs to let him suffer a painful death or a crippled life, and then I will kill myself with the last bullet.

Having determined her course of action, she quickly shifted her aim to the fat guy's legs. Just as her arm was in mid-motion, she saw something that made her think she was hallucinating.

The fat guy made a motion with his free right hand. It was as if he was holding a pistol, and it was pointing right at her. Suddenly, out of the blue, a pistol materialized in his hand. A silenced pistol. Rénald's pistol.

While she was in shock, the guy opened fire, missing her by a longshot. She immediately got out of her stupor, aimed her pistol, and fired, hitting him in the stomach, making him curl up in agony.

Serves you right, you fatfuck. Now let's kill this bitch ne...

 

 

While she was in shock, the guy opened fire, grazing her helmet. She immediately got out of her stupor, aimed her pistol, and fired, hitting him in the knee, making him scream in pain and fall to the ground.

Serves you right, you fatfuck. Now let's kill this bitch ne...

 

 

While she was in shock, the guy opened fire, hitting her hostage in the chest! She immediately got out of her stupor, aimed her pistol, and fired, hitting him in the shoulder, making him grunt and drop his gun.

HAH! He actually hit the hostage, fucking reta...

 

 

While she was in shock, the guy opened fire, punching a hole straight through the protective tinted glass of her helmet and punching a hole through her mouth and teeth, piercing the back of her mouth, severing the spinal cord connecting to the brain, and painting the insides of the helmet red. Even though the brain lost its connection to the body, it still managed to think for a bit longer.

How did he do it?

And with that, Rénald Thibault and Cora Foret, two bonafide serial killers, died at the hands of a nobody.

 

 

 

Eli, who saw the killer collapse to the ground dead, sighed in relief, yet, deep inside, he felt like something broke in him.

Finally, I did it! It took me a dozen tries and 35 seconds, but I did it! Still, getting shot ten times hurts... Shooting Chloe two times hurt even more. It was so painful that I actually didn't get sick about killing this bitch. That said, I should probably see a psychiatrist after this. I think a screw or two got loose.

He then stared at Chloe, who just stood there, tied up and with a sack over her head, shaking like a leaf. She didn't even let out a pip during the whole ordeal.

Make that for both of us.

He said to the phone, "Hello, operator? Both of the killers are down. The hostage, my friend, is safe. Mentally scarred, but safe."

"... Understood. Please follow my instructions. Drop your gun to the ground slowly and distance yourself from it. As for the hostage, don't touch her, and just let the police handle it. When the police arrive in approximately 2 minutes, do not resist arrest, it is just part of the protocol. Keep the line up on mute until I tell you otherwise... And although I am not supposed to say this... Good job."

"...Thanks."

That single good job actually meant a lot for Eli right now.

After he put the pistol on the floor and backed away from it, he looked at the still frightened Chloe and said, "Chloe, you are safe now. Both of the killers are dead. The police will arrive soon and untie you."

Chloe seemed to relax a bit and tried to say something, but all he could hear were muffled sounds.

She was gagged, hah? No wonder I didn't hear her say anything. They must have really done a number on the poor girl. I feel just a little bit better about killing them now.

He then started to recall his small plan.

I took the pistol of the other killer into my inventory and told the operator about my plan to negotiate with the killer (Although the operator highly unrecommended it until I told her I had extreme assurance). I dropped my pistol to the floor when requested and attempted a peaceful negotiation with the killer. If the killer agreed, then we could count ourselves lucky. If she doesn't, I would try and make the killer drop her guard and target me instead. When the killer targets me, I take out the other pistol and aim for a headshot. Out of the first eleven tries, 10 out of them I got shot. From those ten, I managed to hit the killer one time in the neck. However, it wasn't enough, and I got shot too. That one time that I didn't get shot, I accidentally missed and shot Chloe in the head... Let's try and forget that ever happened.

I also noticed something about the skill Back. Every time I used it, I got shot in a different area according to my actions. I guess that is the butterfly effect. Precognition, although helpful, is unreliable. It sometimes helps me sense and pinpoint danger with surgical precision, and sometimes it is dull and lags. It has a chaotic nature to it, just like pure luck gambling. Perhaps it would be better the more it advances in level. For now, though, it is unreliable.

In conclusion... First, I need to practice my aim since I only got lucky with the first guy. Second, I need to practice precognition. It proved immensely useful, and the more it grows, the better it would be. Third, getting shot hurts, even if it technically didn't happen. Unless I have to, I don't want to get shot ever again. Fourth, I need to unwind a bit... Killing people and getting shot is stressful.

As he reached that conclusion, the police finally arrived through the broken door. When they saw the body on the ground, as well as the hostage, they shifted their sights to the only unbound living person in the room. They then pointed their guns at him.

A policeman shouted, "NOPD! Put your hands in the air!"

Eli complied and raised his hands in the air without resistance. The policemen, seeing his behavior, relaxed a bit and cuffed his hands behind his back in a not-so-violent manner and searched him.

Finally, after they finished, Eli said, "Officers, I am the one that called 911. The emergency operator is currently still on the phone in my hand, and the killer is on the floor. The other one is upstairs, most likely dead. Is an ambulance coming?"

A policeman nodded, "Yes, we know. We were already informed while on the way here. Sorry about this, but it's part of the protocol since you have allegedly killed two people, self-defense or not. Once we clear things up back in the department, I believe you would be free to go. As for the ambulance, it should arrive soon."

The Policeman then took the phone and said, "Operator, this is private Dylan, everything is under control now. Thanks for the help."

"Understood. Good work. I am hanging up now."

As they finished speaking, Chloe, who was untied, unhooded, and ungagged now, immediately ran to Eli while shouting, "Eli!"

Before any of the policemen could react, she tightly hugged him while bursting into tears. While hugging him, she only muttered repeatedly, "Thank you... Thank you..."

Both Eli and the policemen could only awkwardly look at this site, as they didn't have the heart to stop her.

After half a minute, one of the policemen approached and said, "Ms. Boisseau, you have a head injury, and we need to take you to the hospital. We will take your testimony there. Also, we called your parents, and they should arrive there in an hour or two."

Chloe asked with concern, "What about Eli?"

The policeman smiled, "We will take him to the department to take his testimony and clear up some suspicions. It shouldn't take more than a few hours."

Eli reassured her, "Don't worry, Chloe. I will be fine."

After bidding farewell to Chloe, the policemen escorted Eli to a police car parked not far from there, and then they drove to the police department.

On the way there, the cop sitting in the front seat couldn't help but say, "Mr. White, although we should be reprimanding you here for your recklessness, I can't help but tell you how much we are grateful for your help this time."

Eli got confused, "Hah? Why?"

The driving cop answered, "It is because you have potentially saved some of our lives tonight. We initially thought that there was only a single killer and not two. Second, not only did they have terrain advantage but also weather advantage. Third, they had silenced pistols, which would have proved deadly under these conditions. Fourth, a hostage situation. Even if we somehow managed to dispatch the first killer, the second one would deadlock us in a hostage situation, and we couldn't guarantee Ms. Boisseau's safety. Lastly, there was the possibility of them escaping, causing even more death. Thank you for the help. We mean it."

Eli awkwardly smiled, "I really didn't think that far. I was only trying to save Chloe."

The front seat cop shook his head and said, "Regardless, you have our thanks. You don't need to worry about anything. Normally, doing what you just did, while it would not count as manslaughter of any degree since it was classic self-defense, could still net you a few years in prison for reckless behavior and gross negligence since you knowingly risked her life. If Ms. Boisseau wished to sue you right now, I am afraid she would probably partially win the case. However, judging from circumstances, I find it hard to believe that she would do that. Also, we wouldn't have done better than you did. For your own legal protection, though, I suspect that the police would take credit for this case, under your consent, that is."²Apparently, it's a thing. You could end up in prison for attempting to rescue someone.

Eli slightly paled. He knew that what he did was in the grey zone of the law, but he didn't think about the possibility of being sent to prison for trying to rescue another person.

The dry law is scary. If I rescued someone ungrateful, I would probably end up in prison... However, I can also sense an underlying warning. If I don't agree to give up the credit to the police, I would be risking the possibility of being sued. Well, not that I really care much about credit.

The rest of the trip was silent, and Eli soon reached the police department.