Gibraltar
December 1906 A.D.
It was a moonless night over the Rock of Gibraltar; the stars seemed to have been swallowed by the dense clouds that rolled like restless ghosts across the sky; fog clung to the narrow streets, the sea’s shiny tang mingled with a faint acris stench of coal that came from the plumes of smoke wafting within the winds from distant steamships; the port town were alleys twisted like arteries pulsed within the darkness; this was the perfect hunting grown for Frank Edwards, a man who’s skill in murder was a sharp as the knife he carried hidden beneath his jacket.
Fran had earned his infamy amongst whispers in the underworld that was stretching across Europe; his victims ranged from unlucky travellers to those who sought refuge in the wrong alleyway, it was never personal for Frank.
He never killed for petty vengeance, or even profit; though his skills would sometimes be sought after by strange Cult-like individuals, though his own killings did some times come across as ritualistic, almost religious; as if he offered lives to some unseen force that whispered only to him within his dreams.
Tonight his eyes were fixed on a new victim; a young girl who skulked around the ports maze-like streets, she was searching for something – perhaps someone, her gait was cautious, yet deliberate; she had a sturdiness about her, a purpose beyond her years, she wore a shawl that was drawn tightly over her shoulders to bar the evening chill, she walked alone; her head held high, yet there was a strange isolation to her presence.
Frank had become an expert at reading people; he had too, the twitch of a hand, the tilt of a head – it revealed all manner of secrets; this girl, however, she was a walking mystery, the way her movements seemed to allow her to glide soundlessly, a stillness within her posture gave him pause; but she was still so young, perhaps sixteen at the most.
She was an unknown lamb, Frank’s lips curled into a wolf’s grin as he slipped into the shadows, he followed; but he remained somewhat cautious; he would time his strike carefully, following her through the dim labyrinth of Gibraltar’s alleyways; his worn boots made no noise as he closed the distance between them; the girl seemed to pause at an unlit alleyway.
She cast a glance at its yawning darkness, it was then that Frank made his move; the blade slid from beneath his jacket, glinting faintly within the flicker of a distant gas lamp; he surged forwards to grab her from behind, to press the blade to that pulsing artery in her throat.
However, he never got there.
With fluid precision, the girl had spun around, she caught his wrist mid-thrust; the move was so inconceivably fast, Frank’s confidence faltered for the first time in years; before he could react, her other hand jabbed at the sensitive nerve between his thumb and palm; his knife clattered to the ground “Interesting choice” she said calmly, her voice was as steady as that of a sea captain’s “A wrist lock” she said looking towards him “Effective; but such movements are predictable”
Frank stumbled back shaking his hand from the numbness that shot up from his elbow; it was then he caught her eyes in the feint light; those silvery-grey eyes where cold, they gave a glare that could cut deeper than any blade “Who are you?” Frank growled, he was trying to mask his unease with bravado
“Lydia” she said, her voice maintained that same calm; it was as if answering cost her no effort “And here is a piece of advice; if killing is your profession, you may want to retire early”
Frank lunged at her, baring fists now that his dagger lay at her feet, but Lydia moved with a supernatural grace, her body fluid, like water, she had sidestepped him effortlessly, one foot snapping out and striking at his knee, hard enough to buckle it; Frank dropped to one leg with a pained grunt
Outraged and desperate, he scrambled to his feet, reaching for the knife; but Lydia danced around him like a shadow; striking him again – this time at the base of his skull with a motion so efficient, it faltered his vision for a brief moment “Who…” Who are you” Frank managed to rasp, his throat had tightened with fear
Lydia stepped closer; there was an air about her, like a predator circling prey that could no longer run; the dim light flickered over her face; if Frank hadn’t been so dizzy, he might have sworn that the darkness itself gathered around her like an obedient hound
“I was raised to be a weapon” she said coldly “To kill; first my father and his Cultists; he was dedicated to purging the unworthy, then my mother and those who trained her, trained me; I know how to bury the remnants of life as if they never existed” the words she spoke hung cold in the air; the realisation of who Lydia was by simply mentioning ‘Cultists’ made him start thinking of the Imperium’s Cultists, he had made a grave error in making her, his target
Frank tried to stagger away; but Lydia pounced, she gripped the back of his collar, forcing his head sideways, hard against the nearby wall “I usually try mercy” she said coldly “But not everyone deserves it; some, like you deserve to be hunted and snuffed out”
Frank began squirming, clawing feebly at her iron grip; she was impossibly strong for her size; when her knife flashed into view, he felt a visceral realisation of how their roles had been reversed; the hunter had become the hunted “Wait…, no…, please” he begged, his voice cracking
“No” Lydia whispered; then, with a horrifying precision, she drove the blade into the soft space beneath his ribs; Frank gasped, his body just convulsed as Lydia twisted the knife gently; like a surgeon cutting away a tumour, she watched as his life drained from his eyes, while her own expression was devoid of emotion; when he finally collapsed at her feet, she looked to the knife a moment before kneeling down, and cleaning it with Frank’s own jacket; straightening back up, she straightened the shawl over her shoulders as if nothing had happened
The night resumed its silence, broken only by the distant creak of ship rigging and the faint crash of the waves against the harbour; Lydia simply melted away into the shadows.
Written By: Westley H.
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