Wildvine wrote 2/3 of the chapter you're about to read, and I have her permission to write this part in her name, seeing as she quit.
24 Years ago...
Its raining. A good hard rain. Rain washes. Rain also conceals. It obscures the vision and drowns out sounds. If the lone figure were given to imaginative thinking he might think the rain was a sign. As if nature itself were assisting in the crime. He doesn't believe in signs or omens or luck. In this game all you had was yourself. The rain pounds down, beating out a rhythm on his leather jacket and pouring off his wide brimmed hat. He watches the house like a shark watches seals, with a hunger.
The Wieters summer home was way too posh for a house in the woods. But summer homes were more about status then escape. As far as security went, the Wieters had two guard dogs trained to kill, just as his employer had said. He had tranquilized them both. He avoided killing dogs whenever possible.
The house also had a state of the art security system. Getting the code had not been easy, though it had been entertaining. And in his last moments Jacob Wieters had screamed the code. To his credit though, he had endured several hours of physical interrogation before revealing the code.
As the killer starts toward the house an owl hoots mournfully in the distance. A death omen, if you believed in such things. The killer grins to himself.
Harvey Wieters paces the living room, bored. And restless. He loves his family but can't understand why they can't get together and do stuff in the city, where he could get some work done. "Because work is all that would happen" He mentally kicks himself.
"You might as well just go" Linda his wife sniffs, storming into the kitchen, her personal kingdom. Harvey knows better then to follow her there when she's in a mood.
"I could be missing something really important" He tries to reason, but just sounds lame.
"You are missing something" she yells, "Your children growing up".
"Ah. C'mon". He struggles to find the right words. "Your right. We'll do something in the morning. Hiking or something, alright? Honey?" The kitchen is quiet. "Don't give me the silent treatment now". God he hates when she's like this. "Sweetie?" He steps into the kitchen and sees his wife lying in a growing pool of blood.
"Evening Mr Wieters" The killer says cheerfully, sitting calmly at the table. Then he shoots Harvey Wieters in the stomach.
"Nothing personal Mr Wieters, though i would be lying if i said it was not a pleasure" Harvey feels himself being dragged back toward the living room. "Not don't go into shock while i'm gone. Got to go check the rest of the family".
It all seems unreal. Linda dying, the chatty killer, too crazy. Maybe it wasn't real, maybe he was dreaming. Everything seems to have a dreamy quality.
The pain across his face brings him back to reality.
"I said, Don't go into shock. Stay awake now, or you'll miss the show" The killer smiles, and his grin seems to fill the world...
First bedroom, old people. He can tell by the smell. Dust, icy hot, something underlying, what is it? He sniffs. ah, fresh death. He strolls into the room, casually. Picks up an old photo faded with age. An old man standing behind a small boy. The old man is grinning a toothless grin. The little boy looks uncomfortable. He crumbles the photo in his fist and tosses it away. The only things worth remembering are things that keep you alive. The killer strides over to the bed.
Yep, the old man is dead alright, passed in his sleep. That's okay, he got paid for the job up front. He toys with the idea of waking the old woman up. Decides against it. He puts a bullet into the old woman's heart and moves on to the next room.
"What are they arguing about Bry?" Brenda Wieters asks. She felt she had to be a part of anything and everything that happened.
"I don't know" Bryant replies. Actually he does have a good idea, but he had learned the best way to shut her up was to play dumb, otherwise she would ask questions all night.
"You know, you just don't wanna say" She pouts.
"Shut up, i don't know what their talking about. Probably something grown up and boring".
"Your not supposed to tell me to shut up Bry, I'm telling" She whines.
"If you tell, then i'll tell your monster you sleep in here" He replies.
Bryant hated sharing a room with his sister, especially since she had here own room. But the little brat was sure something was going to come out of her closet and eat her. So she insisted on sleeping in Bryant's room on these family trips. And the little princess got whatever she wanted.
"You would not, he would eat you first" She says.
"Okay, lets go see" He replies, climbing down from the top bunk.
"No wait, I won't tell" She grabs his arm, on the verge of panic.
"Calm down spazoid. I'm going to the bathroom" He shakes her off, and leaves the room.
The killer steps into the room, bunk beds. The kids room obviously. He walks to the bed slowly. the little girl is awake, her eyes wide and shiny with fear. "The children shall pay for the sins of the father" He grins and points the gun at her.
Bryant returns to his room and sees a tall figure looming over his sister. Brenda's monster had came after all.
"Bryant" She whimpers, before the killer shoots her.
The killer turns, and points to gun. Bryant wonders why everything if happening so slowly. Then the gun fires again. Self-preservation kicks in and Bryant runs blindly back down the hallway.
"Well sh!t, now we're getting off script" The killer comments, chasing after Bryant.
Bryant runs into the kitchen and skids on something slick. His mothers blood. He hurries into the living room where his dad sits, slumped against the couch, eyes closed.
"Dad?" There's no response. Is everyone dead?
"Bryant, Come back, I've got candy." The killer croons.
Bryant runs blindly into the storm, instantly soaked and slipping in the mud.
"And now you've gone and died. Did you even try to survive?" The killer shakes his head in disgust.
"Survive this" Harvey grunts weakly, pulling a gun from under the couch and firing. Bang! the first shot goes wild. Bang! the second hits the killer in the shoulder, more by accident then aim. The killer dives behind the counter. Bang! The third shot also misses. Then Harvey Wieters breathes his last, and dies.
"And here i thought this hit would be boring, heh heh" The killer groans, holding a dish towel over his shoulder wound to slow the bleeding. He waits a moment, if Harvey was still able to shoot, he would be. He rushes around the counter, prepared for anything, but Wieters is really dead this time. On the other hand, you didn't survive in this game by taking chances. So he puts another bullet in Wieters heart, just to be sure. Then stuffs a fresh towel under his shirt to staunch the bleeding and walks out into the storm.
Bryant runs frantically, searching desperately for a place to hide. Anywhere. His arms are covered in pinch marks, childishly trying to convince himself the whole thing is a dream. Then he remembered. There was an old tree near the house. Bryant loved trees. He'd been nicknamed "Monkey" by his friends. This particular tree hung low to the ground, leaves and branches touching the ground and then some. Not a perfect hiding spot but that would have to do.
The murderer exited the house, gun in hand. It took everything Bryant had not to rush the man that instant and beat him with a nearby fallen tree branch. "No," Bryant thought. "Getting yourself killed won't bring Brenda back". The killer walked towards the woods. "Come out Bryant" he giggled psychotically "Wouldn't want to miss out on all the fun, would ya?" Bryant couldn't take it any more. From deep in the forest, a small whimper was heard, like the noise a young child first makes when he finds out he can't have any extra ice cream. The killer smiled, "Hello Bryant".
This was the end. In a matter of minutes, Bryant would be nothing more but a few words in a newspaper. He didn't attempt to run. What good what it do him? Whoever this madman was, he knew what he was doing. Suddenly, a small crack was heard, like the sound of a caving in roof. The murderer looked up, not so much in fear as in annoyance. Suddenly, a larger crack was heard, as a branch from the tree fell down and crushed the murderer's leg, ending in a snap. He let out a loud scream. The branch had broken his leg bone. As much as the murderer wanted to finish the job, he knew he wouldn't catch up to the kid like this. He crawled his way away from the tree, the crawl slowly turned into a limping walk.
Wieters wanted to cry as he finished this chilling chapter in a book of tragadies and horrors.Of course, he couldn't knew he couldn't do this. "What right did that bastard have to cry. After everything he took from me, he still went home tonight a free man. I ran to the cops that day. Told them the story. Refused to believe me, said the man I was describing was Ray Parks, a family man with two children and a model father. Typical Gotham cops. The smart ones are always corrupt, the compassionate ones are always naive and the experienced ones are always lazy. Seems like for years, the only people I had to trust...Were the producers. Not a braincell in them, but perhaps the most admirable beings in the whole universe. Plants"Bryant gripped the handle of his cane tightlyand grinded his teeth to hold back the tears.Jason watched this angry, tortured man in a look of admiration. "Maybe this guy wasn't so naive after all" he thought. "He knows the way this world works."Ivy remained silent, but intrigued.The rules might be a bit too strict, but she admired his strength, intelligence and above all, his attitude towards plants."Finally, someone who understands"she thought.Psycho lifted his head up, opened his eyes and sighed. "Well then" he said in a mockingly cheerful tone. "Let's continue..."
Meanwhile, in North Burnley
Joker hated visiting the North Burnley night club. He was a busy man, after all. So many people to kill, so little time. He approached the bartender, leaning on the table. "Well hello there!" he exclaimed. "I was wondering if you might no anybody with any info on this new...err...Hockey mask weirdo. You know, white tuxedo and purple gloves, CLEARLY stealing my own style, the insipid twat! Think he had yellow eyes too..." Suddenly a small object was heard whirring through the air. It looked similar to a batarang, only it was in the shape of an S. "Yellow eyes...Hehehe" The Gotham thugs (For which there were PLENTY) turned their weapons around to face the origin of the shot. "Batgirl?!" Again their was a laugh. "Sorry to disappoint you. I do like her style though."
Out of the darkness was a rather attractive woman wearing a black top hat. She also wore a leather, protective outfit like Batgirl's, only white. Their was an insignia on the chest, an S. She had long, straight, blue hair and wore a blue cape. On her feet were several spikes. Joker turned around, smiling. "Maybe I won't be needing Harley so much after all. We've certainly got some..." The woman kicked Joker in the chest, grabbed his arm, and broke it. "Shut up clown! Not in this for you. I have a little...Vendetta against our little slasher fan here. As much as I hate teaming up with a psychotic like you, I freely admit to being one myself. So it appears we're stuck in the same boat." Joker laughed hysterically "I LIKE a girl with attitude!" The woman brought her face to the Clown princes, in a odd face that was half smile and half sneer. "The moment you become an annoyance, is the moment you, and half of Gotham, ends up dead. My name is Brenda Wieters....But you can call me Slayer
To be continued...