The true depths of obsession are incomprehensible to the sound.
The ugly depravity it spawns is chained to no limit.
Crippling desire enraptures the seeker.
The sought, irrespective of its nature, can't dare fathom,
and lays bare naked under the gaze of the entranced seeker.
*****
Messiah Ate had cameras installed everywhere around Amelia Skylance.
The Ring doorbell of her residence, the centerpiece of an abstract art piece in her room, even Brew Lane itself—all were parts that made an elaborate set.
The bedroom, previously Amelia's and now occupied by Messiah, was littered with screens that spied on the lady.
Every move Amelia made was seen, judged, and scrutinized by the head of The League.
Obsession empowered him.
Obsession thrilled him.
Obsession completed him.
For the past few days, he'd watched Amelia getting close to the young man named Zaire.
He had been suspicious of her from the very beginning.
He knew the woman of his desire very well.
She was a devil—of the smart sort, at that.
And so, he too had smartly prepared for any unforeseen circumstance.
Messiah didn't need Amelia Skylance to show him the house's layout.
He had been obsessing over every single thing that ever so slightly concerned her.
So, wouldn't he know the house's layout better than anyone?
Yet, he never expected that she would be the one to sneak up on him.
Ever since the apocalypse, he had changed his visage entirely.
He talked high-class. He dressed high-class.
All for her.
She, hopefully, will have a good impression. Warm up to me. Be mine eventually.
His hopes for natural love had been crushed, yet he secured a deal to make her his.
Yet this conniving bitch actually planned to harm me!
Messiah Ate wasn't a pushover. Even if he ever had been, not anymore.
If she was this nefarious, he would be like his beloved.
His deviltry would match hers.
Seeing Amelia break in, Messiah switched on his walkie-talkie.
Loud, grating static woke two others in the manor and one in the neighboring residence.
"Madame Siobhan, Ser Jeff, Ser Sean, please wake up. I am possibly in immediate danger."
"What, right now, sir?"
"Yes, Madame Siobhan. I am in grave danger right now. It's Zaire Zontes—the survivor who killed the Level Two Beast."
"I knew it. That Nala and Zaire always gave me a bad feeling. Fuck, I never would have expected assassination, though. Pardon my language, sir."
"It's alright, Ser Sean. I just hope you three will be sufficient—and safe—in dealing with him."
"I'm already up, sir."
"Same here."
"Copy."
"Thank you, Madame Siobhan, Ser Sean, and Ser Jeff. Your help is much appreciated."
Tss... click...
Dropping the walkie-talkie, Messiah smiled.
His eyes were fixed on the screen showing the massive living room.
Amelia Skylance was tiptoeing, beelining straight for the stairway.
Zaire was the issue to be dealt with by the three he'd just barked orders at.
The tantalizing issue of Amelia Skylance was his alone to solve.
Nobody else. Nobody.
*****
CRASH.
The noise was loud as Zaire crashed into the living room of Skylance Manor.
Because it was dark, and Zaire couldn't spot the entrance Amelia had sneaked in through, the large glass patio door had to do the job of welcoming Mr. Zontes.
The value of sneaking in had also lost all meaning.
Sean was outside, screaming Zaire's name and spraying bullets everywhere.
And the living room was bright as hell.
Yes—someone had switched on the lights inside, and more likely than not, they were expecting Zaire.
Zaire wanted to be fast.
He wanted to make an explosive, unexpected entry.
Catch the inhabitants by surprise.
Hold someone hostage.
Conclude the deal with dialogue.
Crash inside the manor unexpectedly, he did.
But the surprise of the inhabitants inside lingered for only a split second.
They locked onto the impact site and immediately dashed toward it.
Blood dripped from Zaire's left palm—the palm he'd used to brace himself after the crash.
Quickly sucking the cuts, Zaire scanned his surroundings.
Spotting two figures rushing toward him, his combat mind immediately took control of his mental reins.
It was the beefed-up guy who reached him first.
Closing in from about five feet away, the launched himself at Zaire.
Seeing the tackle incoming, Zaire arched his back first, then, planting his palms on the man's shoulders, he threw his legs back.
A perfectly executed sprawl.
The bulky man, finding nothing to grab and with Zaire now weighing down on him, tumbled and smashed his head face-first on the tile floor.
Twack.
Zaire immediately turned his head up.
Yes—the lady is here now.
"JEFF...!"
Screaming, Siobhan immediately activated her skill: "Blade Arms."
The ugly sight of coagulation bubbled over her arms.
Like last time, her arms had turned into sharp, blade-like structures.
Closing in, she immediately started swinging.
Hearing the sound of air ripping, Zaire made up his mind to forget about countering.
Seeing Zaire fall back considerably, she rushed to her downed teammate.
"Jeff, you okay?"
The bulky Jeff moved.
Putting his palms on the floor to prop himself up, he got to his feet.
His nose was twisted, and his teeth were red.
Siobhan and Jeff stood side by side.
"MOTHERFUCKER!!"
Another person joined.
Making his way through the gate Zaire had created, Sean now completed the ensemble.
Looking at the three, Zaire frowned.
"Please, back off. I like you all. I don't want any of you to lose your lives over this. And I am not concern trolling. I am dead serious."