He exited the car and locked it then crossed the road, passing the Stern and Dolly and following the four men while maintaining a safe distance. They led him to the end of the street then turned right, followed the road for a while then went left. Pistol’s street. As Frederich had predicted, Pistol hugged and bumped fists with each of his friends then stumbled onto his yard, heading toward his front door while the rest continued down the path. Frederich rushed forward. He neared Pistol’s front yard and crept over the grass with his breath held. The hunting knife was already in his hand. Pistol was at the front door with his hand in his pocket, digging for his keys while brushing his hair back. Frederich sped up once he left the grass, scurrying over the concrete. Pistol had barely begun turning around when Frederich snatched a handful of his hair and pulled his head back with one hard jolt, before slicing his neck open with the hunting knife. Pistol’s reflexes were as slow as Frederich had imagined them to be, having smelt the stench of beer on him from metres away. Frederich remained standing there as Pistol tumbled to the ground, with only the sound of him gasping and groaning for his life in the darkness. Pistol’s struggle for survival gradually died down until the night-time silence returned.
Frederich took off immediately, holding the bloody knife backwards and tucking it along his forearm as he sprinted again over the yard and back in the direction of the remaining three men. At the end of Pistol’s street was a T-intersection. Left or right? He relied on his ears, hearing the faint sound of a man raising his voice to the right. The bending road kept the men out of sight until Frederich came around and caught a glimpse of them turning into an open space between two houses. He accelerated to catch up, appearing at the corner where the men had previously been and finding them crossing through a park. It was high risk, but if he pulled it off he would avoid the chance of things getting complicated later if they split up. He took a couple of deep calming breaths and pulled the stun gun out of his inside jacket pocket and moved forward. Dikka trailed the group and was the first to hear Frederich approach.
“What the fuck?” he blurted as he saw Frederich approach, his shaved head pulling backwards in surprise and his huge eyes lighting up in the night.
Dikka’s hearing was sharp, but his reflexes were terrible. Alcohol again proved a deciding factor. Before Dikka could react, Frederich punched the stun gun into his hip, and within seconds had forced him to ground. Vent’s reflexes worked quicker than his friend’s, and almost immediately he sprinted away. Frederich dropped the stun gun and flipped the hunting knife around so it was straight in his hand. He reached back and flung it forward, hitting Vent between the shoulder blades. Vent grunted loudly and fell to the ground, the knife wedged in his back. Meanwhile, Faust came forward in a boxing stance and sent a right hook at Frederich’s head. Frederich dodged it and scrambled to the side to create space. Faust came at him again with two jabs, which Frederich fended off with his arms raised to protect his face. When the right hook returned he ducked it while knowing the fight was already over. It seemed Faust had assumed they were sticking to boxing rules. Frederich had no code of honour guiding him. He only cared about his deadline. With Faust off-balance, Frederich rose up and kneed him in the balls, then hit him with a mighty hook.
There was no time to survey the fallout or think. Terminate and conceal. Frederich went over to Vent, who was grunting and scrambling across the grass on his stomach in obvious pain. He took the knife out of Vent’s back and slit his throat. Dikka was laying on his side, still crippled by the stun gun, before Frederich also slit his throat. Faust was on his knees, struggling to get back up. Frederich picked up the stun gun and gave him a second jolt for good measure before dealing him the same fate as Dikka and Vent.
A bright light approached when a car passed by along the street, oblivious to the slaughter taking place in the shadows. Darkness was Frederich’s ally as he dragged each of the bodies behind the bushes by the fence, confident they would remain hidden until morning. He wiped the blade of his knife clean on the grass then packed it inside his jacket along with his stun gun before making back for the Stern and Dolly.
“What the hell was taking them so long?” thought Vidrik as he pushed the stairway door open and went up to the rooftop. Radara was toying with him, he decided, taking her sweet time and enjoying herself while he festered and waited.
He climbed the final step then stopped just behind the door, carefully pulling down on the handle and pushing it open a crack. A pair of large pot plants concealed the entrance to the stairs and blocked Vidrik’s line of sight. He slowly worked the door open and emerged onto the terrace and crept to a position behind the bushes. He shook his head disapprovingly as he studied the buffoons in tuxedos trying to impress a bunch of hussies with short skirts and fake tits.
“Where are you, my little princess?” he whispered to himself, carefully inspecting each woman.
No sign of them. He paused before slowly emerging from behind the plants to widen
