Chapter Text
“I would like to see James, please,” a man asked. There was something subtle weaved into his voice as he asked. As if there lies a grand joke that waited to be unveiled.
The officer working the reception desk felt unnerved by the undertone in the voice of the man. Looking up at him, his appearance left her feeling even more unsettled than before. He wore the hood of his white parka up and its decorative red fluff obscured part of his face. The rest of his face remained hidden underneath his platinum blond bangs and the downward incline of his head. However, his mouth remained visible. There lied a serpentine smile, delighted by something mischievous. Or more likely, an untold joke.
A nearby officer caught on to the receptionist’s discomfort and proceeded cautiously over to the two.
“He’s an SSC, I believe.” The unknown man stated.
“Oh well then,” the receptionist sputtered and promptly searched for any appointments an SSC agent might have made under the name of “James”.
“He doesn’t know I’m here.” The man said plainly with that undertone again.
The female looked up at him, nervously now and watched as the man’s smile grew wider.
“So…” The man began, “I wanted to drop in to surprise him. What floor is the SSC on?” Then he raised both hands to cover his face. Holding them there for a moment until they returned to his sides once more. However, the man’s face…changed. Looking back at the receptionist was not the face of a man, but herface. Only the eyes were not quite right. They glowed a beautiful gold.
Fear trickled onto the face of the woman working the reception desk. The unknown man relished in her state of terror. He could practically feel his own pulse quicken with excitement to match that of the woman’s, although hers was caused by fear.
“Could you let me through the gate?” The man’s voice questioned as he leaned onto the counter, “You have a nice face.” It continued speaking, “Maybe you could model for me sometime.” A crazed look settled upon its face and bright orange gloved hands were gestured to emphasize its insanity.
The officer nearby finally decided to intervene upon seeing the fearful look of the receptionist. He placed his hand on the stranger’s should and asked,
“What’s the trouble?”
When the stranger turned their head to see where the arm originated, the officer startled at the almost identical face of the receptionist. Looking back and forth between the two in confusion. The stranger, however, had enough of being touched and a gloved hand withdrew a knife that he had hidden within his pocket. A swift swing of his arm and the blade drew across the officer’s throat. Blood spurted through the air and the officer fell back, dying.