It'd been a long, slow, dull night. No-one had counted how many of the racers had been killed in the shoot out. Indeed it was hard to tell how many had fallen and how many were simply too afraid to return to the track, so soon at least. Jason would have been more disappointed but he hadn't been able to race anyway, his car still down in the garage. Either way though, he'd still hoped there would be at least a little action, but the few racers who had chosen to show their faces had barely been able to increase his heart rate as he'd idly watched then shoot up and down an empty stretch of road. He hadn't even bothered to wait for the end of the meet before him and Zeek had made an uncharacteristically subdued exit. He'd trundled back up to his unkept, neglected apartment, dragging his feet over each of urine stained and scented steps on the way. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt quite so low. The door creaked open painfully as he made his way in and even more so as he kicked it closed behind him, only turning around to lock the line of dead bolts that ran down the termite infested door frame. He sometimes wondered why he bothered since it was more likely if anyone tried to break in that the frame itself would crumble long before the door itself would open.
He dropped his keys on the plain old oak sideboard the same way he did every day, flicked the light switch, patiently waiting as the lone light bulb hanging from it's own exposed wiring in the middle of the roomed flickered and strained, eventually breaking out into a dull but consistent light that cast a strangely warm glow that he‘d grown quite fond of over the recent months. He kicked his shoes off into a corner and pulled his hoody lazily over his head, throwing it over the back of a worn brown leather couch, the only half decent looking piece of furniture in the whole room. Pulling his oversized white t-shirt off as he went, Jason shouldered the door open into his bedroom.
Blinded for the first few seconds by his own clothing, the first he knew of his assailant was the solid kick that slammed through his ribs and threw him back out into the hall, stopping only when met with the equal impact of his spine on the opposite wall. Pieces of old flaking plaster broke free and fell on and around him, discolouring patches of his otherwise dark skin and hair a strange mouldy yellow. Sharp stabbing pain from a number of broken ribs shot through his chest with each breath as he tried to regain the wind that he been so forcefully removed from his lungs. He managed to throw the shirt aside from where it had ended tangled around his forearms.
Looking up he caught the first glimpse of his attacker. He was no taller than Jason, six feet at most. His pale gaunt face and sunken features hinted at a similarly frail looking frame though it was hidden beneath a long black trench coat, buttoned from neck to waist along it's front and seemingly bound by numerous black leather belts though anyone would doubt their practical application. As it walked and the bottom of the coat bounced it was just possible to make out a pair of knee high riding boots. It fixed it's blood red eyes on Jason as it loomed over him, smiling sickly to reveal rows of unnaturally pointed yellowing teeth. It's hair was long and as dark as the clothing that enshrouded it, it was thin, but soft and seemingly weightless, occasional strands being picked up and held by a breeze neither of them could otherwise feel.
"Hello Swift." it said, it's voice thin and spiteful. It's lips and tongue strangely over articulating each syllable. Saliva pooled in the corners of it's mouth adding an almost snake like hiss to the end of it's words.
Jason forced himself back to his using the wall behind him for support, he continued to lean back heavily on it with his shoulders even when stood up to almost full height. He fixed the exiles gaze but didn't speak.
"What? You lost for words, Swift? You always seemed so talkative." the exile laughed dryly, mockingly.
"What do you want?" Jason asked, wincing at the pain in his chest that doing so caused.
"You didn't think you could run forever did you?"
"I'm not going to tell you anything."
"Such a shame. Because if you could tell me where to find Connell, I might be able to let you live."
"Go to hell."
In one smooth motion Jason drew the pistol that had been tucked in the waistband of his jeans. In was aimed solidly between the exiles eyes and ready to unleash it's payload faster then a human eye could see. It was unfortunate that his assailant wasn't human. It's spindly fingers clasped around his wrist like a vice and pulled his arm aside. The first shot passed harmlessly by the exiles head and buried itself in the wall behind. It snapped his wrist back hard, the sounds of the bones beneath coming apart clearly audible to both parties. The weapon dropped from his hand with a dull thud as it hit the old wooden floorboards. Jason lashed out with his one good hand, a strong hook punch aimed for his enemy's temple. The exile merely moved his head back, watching amused as the strike passed less than an inch from his eyes. His own free hand grabbed at the wrist and twisted the arm up, the inside of Jason's elbow now facing the ceiling. It kicked up, it's legs almost forming a perfectly straight line between floor and ceiling and effortlessly snapped the elbow back the wrong way, heralding another muffled scream of pain as Jason tried unsuccessfully to hold it back. The exile let go of both of his arms, allowing them to drop to his victims sides, rendered useless by his attacks. A flick of the wrist produced a long shining wickedly curved dagger in his right hand. He took one step in and thrust it upwards under Jason's ribcage. He screamed again, muffled once more but this time by his quickly disappearing ability to breath and the blood that was now forming in his throat.
"We'll find them you know. All of them. You'll be together again soon." With those final words he twisted the blade hard, forcing Jason to spit up the blood that had filled his mouth, spraying it over his killers face. The exile smiled and licked what he could reach off his lips with his long thin tongue. Relishing the moment for just a few seconds more, he removed the blade and stepped away, the young racers body falling into a crumpled heap on the floor, his now freely flowing blood instantly soaking into every line and crevice in the flooring.
Silently now, the exile turned towards the door, casually undoing each dead bolt on the frame and pulling the door open, somehow preventing it from creaking in the manner it had previously done for as long as anyone could recall. He reached out beside him and flicked the light off, stepped out into the hall and gently pulled the door closed again behind him before making his escape in the waiting elevator.
