20 PART 2

Losing the brand was the worst thing he could have done. If that guy had not showed up at that moment, if he had given him a few more seconds, things would have been different. He was startled when the guy shouted at him. He left the unconscious man on the ground and the brand also slipped. Damn that oil lamp.

But he could not stop and retrieve it. Because his identity was more valuable than the brand. He had went back to the antique shop to look for the brand. He looked everywhere only to get zero result. His head was spinning. How could he be so careless. That was his only weapon. He could easily order another one with a sketch from any blacksmith or hardware store. But that would give away his hideout area and his identity. His identity. As long as it was a secret, it was the deadliest weapon. He had thought of waiting. His plan was to strike at around a span of two months anyway. So he waited.

The anonymous joined the party at the big house too. He smiled at everyone, laughed with everyone. He smirked at them secretly thinking how thick head they were. They could not guess even a little thing. He was one of them. Only he wasn't.

He felt a little curious about the girl who entered the party at the very last. She seemed vey familiar. She was the only one who was not in a dress. She had white sneakers and matching black jacket and jeans. She was pretty no doubt. Her black hair was tied in a low bun. Her grey eyes could pierce through anyone's soul. But he had not seen her in school. Also she looked like she came for business.

But those did not get the his attention. The girl patted her pockets before entering the house. Then something flashed under the porch lights. He could not believe his luck. It was an iron object about 2 or 3 inches. The brand.

He now knew where he had seen the girl. In fact it was not a girl at all. It was the agent that was after him. She has even dared to endanger her identity. This meant they had enough evidence to come this far. He had to act quick. He had to take the brand.

He glanced around the house trying to access the situation. A few girls were gossiping on the pool side of the house. The hockey team was having a chugging race with beer. A few girls were chatting by the counter with punch. He had to get close to that agent without endangering himself.

His luck must have been really good today. Someone turned the music on and a few girls took charge of the center of the room. After a while some guys also joined in. He just had to make the agent dance too.

He took position behind the agent. Keeping a good few steps between them. He thanked the gods for keeping his face admirable enough. He interrupted a group of girls and asked them to dance. They got all giggly and rushed towards the dance center. The agent was rushed with the flow too. She hesitated for a moment but thought against it. She too could not endanger her identity.

He let some moments pass. He eyed the agent from time to time. She danced like she actually had no other responsibility. If he did not know better, he would have considered her as just an average teenager.

He danced his way to the agent. He danced a few steps around her. She looked at him for a moment and he skipped a beat. He was thinking fast, if she somehow became alert he had to act on instinct. But she just smiled at him and continued dancing. She was working hard to sell the disguise. He was very impressed.

As soon as he got the scope, he slipped his hand through the jacket pocket and got it out. Thank the gods it was not in her jeans. That would have been a lot harder. He had to create as much distance as possible from the agent.

*******************

The anonymous had seen the dirty blonde haired girl go out in the back of the house. The agent was nowhere to be seen either. It was clear that she knew the brand was missing. Soon the cops will arrive and start checking everyone. He had to act fast.

The crowd was still gasping how that girl ran off from the most popular guy in school when she was offered one those pink cupcakes. He went upstairs and found it as he thought.

Empty.

He took out his syringe and filled it with the liquid. Tonight he had to act rashly. Only for that over confident agent. He had the break the serial of his victims.

This was the only way. He convinced himself. Maintaining the serial doesn't matter as long as you get all of them.

He stared at the iron brand. It had been a simple thing. He took out a few parts and put a small plastic holder to make it a brand. But it was effective and symbolic for his goal.

His revenge.

He flickered the gas lighter on. He stared at the flames. Burning rage. Hatred. Anger. Everything burned inside him.

He heated the brand. He saw it turn hot and red. It's funny how this brand does no harm other than a charred flesh of few inches. But it carried a great significance.

He heard footsteps coming his way. If he was correct, in a few moments his victim would be unconscious. Branded. Carrying out his another step towards final triumph. He had to carry out the next attacks in a short span of time. The cops were already on his tail. He couldn't risk anything.

When the moment came, he injected the syringe on the left arm. The body was already wobbling, the drug doing its work. He held the hot brand in place. He had to do some struggle, but ultimately he did it.

The work was done, he thought. Let the game begin.