Murder On The Air Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: “Tuer un Cerf”

(Trigger warning)

Autumn, nineteen hundred and eleven

Alastor stalked through the forest in the dark. With his dark clothing and stealth, he was barely noticeable in the shadows. Especially on a dark starless night. It was a new moon, a time for new beginnings. Alastor had learned how to use weapons, and to barely make a sound when he was on the hunt. He remembered his father all those years ago, warning him about bears and alligators and how "you never know when you might become the prey."

Oh how true that was, not just for him, but for everyone. Many people didn't know this…perhaps the greatest predators in the animal kingdom were not bears, gators, or sharks…but humans themselves.

But humans could also be easy, gullible prey. Alastor knew that, firsthand.

Alasor had been entrapped and scrutinized by his father for far too long.

Now it was time to free himself and settle things for good.

The hunted had become the hunter.

He moved from the forest and into the city. New Orleans was very beautiful in the dark. Chatter and light pulsed from inside stores that were still open during the late hours. Several fireflies hovered in circular patterns near the bayou lake and the glow of tall iron street lights. Cars and passerby roamed the cobblestone streets without a care in the world.

Alastor smiled as the lively jazz music coming from nearby bands spurred him onward.

"Is that…the Vigilante?"

"He's…back?"

Passerby whispered and gawked as he walked by.

"He's the one who saved my daughter from her deranged boyfriend," said a man.

"Or when he finished off that drug dealer who tried to escape with our money," added a woman.

"Vigilante…thank you!"

"Over here!"

Secretly enjoying the praise, Alastor ignored him and pressed on toward his goal.

"Hey, you!"

Alastor whirled around. Several police officers stood with guns and batons, blocking his way.

"You're under arrest for the murders of…get back here!"

Alastor sprinted down another street as the sounds of footsteps echoed not too far behind. A bullet hit a ladder with a ping to Alastor's right.

He had no energy for harder spells…but if he was going to survive…

"I'm sorry, Mama," he thought as he eyes glowed red.

A metal trash bin tilted over and rolled down the street toward the policemen.

"What the…"

Two of them avoided it, but the third officer scurried away as the bin rolled after him, downhill.

Alastor turned the corner and raced up some stairs, the police following. He leapt over the black railing, bending his knees, and landing feet first on the ground before running.

"What is up with that kid?" one officer asked.

Alastor picked up speed, maneuvering between alleyways and roads. He pressed himself against a brick wall in one alleyway as the officers thundered past.

He peered around the corner, checking is surroundings. He emerged and quietly snapped his fingers. The officers stopped running and instead looked confused. They quickly forgot about Alastor and his alter identity. Seizing the opportunity, Alastor raced off back in the other direction.

He finally made it to the bar and ducked behind a nearby bush.

Louis had stepped outside and was kissing a black-haired lady in a green dress. He tipped his brown hat to her and waved goodbye.

All was silent.

Bang!

A bullet had zoomed over his head.

Louis was holding another gun in his hands.

"I'm gonna kill you, boy!"

Alastor raced from the bush and ran as another bullet narrowly missed his face. A few yells and gasps could be heard from the nearby onlookers. Alastor summoned a fireball and, looking behind him, he threw it. Louis' gun was knocked from his hands. Louis compensated by picking up a rock and throwing it at him. The rock hit his helmet.

"I knew this thing would come in handy," he thought.

Racing over, Louis shoved him hard against a wall. Both men grunted and growled. Louis had a thick hand over Alastor's windpipe, the teen gasping for breath. He head-butt his father with his helmet and he stumbled back, letting go. Alastor got kneed in the gut several times but managed to block the next punch with his arm. Louis gripped his shirt and flung off his helmet with a powerful swipe and ripped off his ski mask.

"It's all your fault, cursed boy!"

"I'm not a boy anymore!"

"You stole away my life, my reputation! My wife devoted herself to you and for what? It was a temptation of sin, a distraction from a normal life."

"Normal? You call your bigotry normal?!"

"You're nothing but a pathetic piece of scum."

"You underestimate me, Papa."

More kicks and hits.

"You'll be on a one way trip to Hell!"

"You took everything from me, and Mama!" Alastor cried, his teeth showing in a grimace. "If anyone's going there, it's you!"

With a loud yell, Alastor slammed his father hard against the wall. His head made an impact. Another low kick to the groin and Louis was on his knees.

One final punch to the head and he fell backwards with a thud.

Alastor took out a knife and raised it above his father's throat…

The knife going down…

…and pausing before the tip grazed the skin.

One might think that Alastor had hesitated finishing the deed for many reasons. Guilt for killing a family member. Hesitation due to wondering if it was right or wrong to commit such an act.

But that was not the case.

Killing him right then and there…that would be too easy. He had prepared himself for a stimulating challenge and to complete it so fast would be disappointing.

A stab in the neck wasn't good enough for a man like him. Only a proper act of revenge would be in order.

Revenge wasn't best served cold in this case.

It could only be served in the most tasteful, agonizing…and most entertaining way possible.

Alastor snapped his fingers and the nearby lights flickered out. Confused shouts rang through the area.

Using the distraction, Alastor carried his unconscious father through the city… and into the seclusion of the woods.

Once they were far enough away from the city, Alastor placed him on the ground, back against a large tree trunk.

He unbuttoned his father's shirt and removed his pants and underwear. The sight of his hotdog made him sick. It wasn't long before he was naked and hairy. He snapped his fingers and his father's clothes were burning in a pile. The fire was then snuffed out with another snap, leaving a pile of ash and pieces of blue fabric.

He fiddled around and took out his supplies. First, he took out a smaller length of rope and walked over to his father. Moving over behind him, he crossed his thick white arms behind his back and linked the arms with the rope, making sure they were held in place. He moved the white arms and hands and they held firm.

Humming a cheery tune, Alastor unraveled another roll of light brown rope and began wrapping it around the tree and his father's chest. He circled around the tree several times before looping the rope into a large knot and tightening it. He took the white gag and tied it over Louis' slack mouth. For an extra precaution, he tied the lower parts of his legs together. Alastor snapped his fingers and several red and black lit candles appeared in a large circle around them.

Now all he had to do was wait.

Louis slowly opened his eyes and groaned under the gag. Alastor removed it and his father gasped.

"What the…where am I?" He glared when he spotted his son. "You!"

"Ah, Papa, so lovely to see you again!" Alastor was sprouting his ever-present grin that looked unsettling in the candlelight.

"Get me outta this!"

Louis stared at his body. He gave a lecherous grin. "Stripping me are ya?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Alastor responded.

He answered his father's question. "Where are we? We are deep in the woods where no one can find us. It was our favorite place to learn together, remember?"

Louis grunted and struggled against the tight rope binding him to the tree. "Let me go, you bastard!"

"Hmm…how about no?" Alastor chuckled.

"Your mother will disown you for what you're doing!"

"I don't think so! In fact, she told me where you were, so I decided I'd pay you a visit."

Louis hid the shock of betrayal with a growl. "You and her, both traitorous heathens! Enemies of the Lord. What kind of son turns on his own father?"

Louis shook his head. "You've always been a weak runt. Someone soft as you is unworthy."

"Unworthy is an understatement when it comes to you. You are but a husk of the father I once knew," Alastor replied.

Alastor held up a sharp knife in his hand. The blade glinted in the candlelight. "There was no point in killing you earlier. But now that we're here, I figure we could have a little bit of fun. Seeing as how you're so eager to die."

"That's nonsense, fucking psycho!"

"Just to warn you…I like to relish and live in the moment when it comes to entertainment. Hence why I will ensure that we'll enjoy it as long as we can. In other words, Papa…"

He leaned his face closer, grin inching wider, insanity in his eyes…

"I won't be so merciful with you."

He held up the knife, which glinted in the candlelight.

"Show me a smile, Papa! The fun's about to begin!"

He spoke as if he were speaking to an audience. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, my lovely father has come to join us in a fun-filled evening of entertainment! Let's start off with arts and crafts."

The knife scraped across Louis's pale skin, then went deeper. Alastor was tracing a bloody circle on his belly.

Louis yelled out and seethed at the sharp pains. Alastor was taken back to when he carved out sigils of Satan and Lucifer on victims brought in.

Only this time, it was his choice to do so.

And he was relishing every minute.

"You know about religious symbols, right Papa?" he asked as Louis squirmed. "Do you know which one I'm carving?"

"Oh God!" he yelled.

"Nope, wrong answer."

Sweat coated Louis' forehead as he tried in vain to escape his bonds. "You're Devil spawn…"

"Could you be more specific on the person?" Alastor asked as he traced and finished the sigil. Blood flowed from the lines in droplets.

"It's the sigil of Furfur," Alastor replied. He admired the small downward pointed triangle, a row of four pillar shapes, flanked by two curved lines with two spirals on either end.

"It's alright, you'll get it next time…oh wait, there won't be one for you."

Louis cussed loudly between breaths.

"Now, now, there's no need for such language. It's important to find time to relax and let out our troubles."

He turned to the invisible audience. "Which brings us to the next session: physical therapy and role play!"

He snapped his fingers and a long black whip appeared in his hand. The same one that Louis had used on him years ago.

Louis gasped at the tool with wide eyes.

"Does this look familiar?" Alastor asked, circling around him like a vulture. "Did it make you feel good to lash out at me? Make you feel oh so powerful?"

"You don't want to do this son," Louis chided.

Alastor scoffed. "Last time I heard, I didn't get a choice whatsoever."

Alastor stepped back in front of him. "Say, let's switch things around a bit. I'll play you and you do me. You ready?"

"You scum stained son of a…"

Lash!

"Aaaargh!"

The first strike got him in the face.

Lash!

Alastor roared in a low voice, "You've been a very naughty boy, son!"

"Don't talk to me like…"

Louis belted out a high pitched wail.

Another crack. Then another.

"Alastor!" Alastor boomed, "You're an impure homo sissy with no life. Say it!"

"No!"

Crack!

Crack!

Louis screamed in pain, his skin red. Lashes and cuts covered his body, his arms, legs and chest.

Louis breathed hard and lowered his head, muttering, "I…I'm an impure sissy homo…with no life…"

"Say it louder for the people in the back!" Alastor yelled, a shrill in his voice as he cracked the whip again and again. His father's screams were music to his ears.

When Louis couldn't take the sharp lashes anymore, he yelled out the degrading statements.

Tears fell from Louis' eyes as burning agony spread across his body. His white face became paler.

"Quiz time, folks!" Alastor spoke out loud. He walked over toward his backpack and returned with a meat clever.

Alastor spoke into space. "So we know the worst thing you can do to a woman is rape, yes?"

Louis said nothing.

"But what's the worst thing you can do to a man?"

Black spots danced across Louis' vision.

"Anybody have an answer? No? Well, I'll tell you. "

He paused for dramatic effect.

"All the things that my dear old father did to me…"

With a crazed look on his face, he raised the clever high. Louis stared with sheer terror and disbelief.

"…and this!"

A wet sounding strike and a low thud. Louis' severed cock had fallen to the ground in a bloody heap. Louis' agonized screams echoed through the night. He screamed and cried out until his voice cracked sharply.

Louis saw a close-up view of his son's face over him. A tip of a knife was in his line of vision.

"You've been so blind to my needs and Mama's. Let's literalize this metaphor, shall we?"

A squelch and a splatter of blood and fluid.

Louis shut his eyes and shrieked as the knife was wedged in his right eye.

Alastor turned back to him. Several moments passed.

"Now, you get aroused by women other than my mother," Alastor continued. "Just picture me as one of them and tell me if you like this next part…"

Though his blurry vision, his son was walking away, then returned with something silver in his hand. He thought he saw him bend down in front of him.

Was he…bowing?

He felt something sharp…and very hot, dig through his butt and groin. His eyes rolled back and he passed out.

Louis awoke to throbbing and searing pain everywhere. It felt like he was on fire. He moved his now free arms and stretched out his hands…

Only to find he didn't have them anymore…

Alastor was holding a bloodstained chainsaw and letting out maniacal laughter. Red blood caked his face and covered his clothes.

"Hope you're enjoying the show folks, because I sure am!" he hollered. "Who's ready to learn some anatomy?"

Louis screamed some more as Alastor sliced him open and examined his exposed organs. His body was going into shock.

"I wonder what liver tastes like…" Alastor asked himself.

He smirked at his helpless father. "I have to give kudos to you for teaching me everything about hunting. Without your discipline and knowledge, I wouldn't be where I am right now. Like you said, you'll never know when you'll become the prey."

"Go…to…Hell…" he rasped as he coughed up blood. Cuts and bruises were everywhere on his body.

"Looks like we're running out of time, dear listeners," Alastor announced to the air, "Or should I say, Papa is."

He chortled loudly.

"Let's bid our guest farewell, he has a new life in Hell waiting for him."

He took out his father's rifle and took aim.

"Bonne nuit, cher cerf."

The blast rang out. The bullet struck square in Louis' neck. Louis's head slumped over and then he was gone.

Alastor unlit the candles, gathered his supplies and put his father's corpse in the trash bag.

Alastor was exhausted when he arrived back home.

His mother saw him out front and embraced him, ignoring the blood all over him.

"You're in so much trouble, ya know dat," she replied. "Did ya do it?"

Alastor glanced to the large bag with his father's body in it he had dragged along.

"Wha…what do ya plan to do with it. Bury him? Burn him? Why drag him all the way back here?"

Alastor's grin grew wider. He smelled something good coming from the kitchen.

"Well, I'm starved! Is that jambalaya?" he asked.

"Sho' is! I figured you'd be hungry when ya came home. I'm makin' some more, too."

"How would you like to…add an extra ingredient to it?" Alastor winked.

Loretta looked at the body bag then back at Alastor.

"Are ya sayin' we…" She did chomping motions with her mouth. Alastor nodded.

Her eyes, for the first and only time, glowed red, showing a small creeping smile. "Ah am getting' pretty hungry. Ah think some extra meat would be satisfying."

Alastor's eyes dilated and his grin lit up the room. "I thought you said no cannibalism unless in dire circumstances like survival…"

"Well, this situation is quite "dire" indeed. Ah'm a free woman and the head of household is gone!"

For the next few hours, mother and son sang happily as they chopped up the man's hands, feet, and belly on a large chopping board. Loretta grabbed some leftover deer meat from the icebox and tossed them in among the shrimp, rice, and vegetables. She let Alastor toss the slabs of flesh and muscle into the large pan of jambalaya. The bones were stripped bare and put in a pile to use for rituals. He casually gnawed on a pale severed finger as the rest of the meal sizzled and cooked on the stove.

At last, they served themselves and sat at the kitchen table.

They both said grace over the table and shed a few tears before digging in.

It was, hands down, the best meal that Alastor (and his Mama) had ever had.

Before long, Alastor had graduated high school in nineteen fourteen, grateful for it to be over. He worked at menial jobs for several more years, dealing with discrimination every day. During World War One, his maternal uncle was drafted into the war and he sadly never saw him again. He did make some more money selling newspapers detailing the war and the losses.

Alastor sat down in a red high chair and read a newspaper. A column read, "Vigilante dead? Serial killer on the loose." A person said "Save us from the mad man, Vigilante!"

Alastor laughed out loud, for he had left his previous identity behind and evolved.