ᴄʜɪᴍᴇʀᴀ

Prologue

As fast as he can, he ran.

He couldn't be stopped by the darkened alleyways, the rotten stench, or the ominous patter that echoed throughout.

He ran, as fast as he can. Stumbling over out of place stones, staining his freshly pressed trousers from stomping on puddles.

Footsteps, that aren't his, he heard. Causing him to dive for the right path on the narrow crossroads. Guided by the tight walls at every turn, he stopped, when in front--

A dead end.

Catching his breath for a moment, letting the drum of his heart echo in his ears, he turned around.

The shock on his face was all too amusingly clear, even on a moonless night within darkened streets.

Blocking his path out, a figure. He took refuge in the shadows. Apart from an outline of a long coat and top hat, a full faced masquerade mask that glinted in what little moonlight. A quick glance told of its intricacy and worth, but he has more pressing manners than to admire.

"Masquerade." His voice trembled, so badly he didn't dare hide it. "Listen I--"

"The clock had already rung. The ball is over; the guests are taking their leave one by one and exiting in their carriage. The remaining food to be thrown away to rot, along with you who stayed behind with your mask on."

The voice of a young man, one he had heard joyously laugh only three nights before.

"The Yard wouldn't look away! Those vermin betrayed me!" He sputtered. "I am in no position to--"

"He threw away the mask, while pretending to still wear it. He asked for the finest pocket watch to be made while knowing his time is to run dry the next day." He could practically hear him grin. "I wonder, is one able to count their faults while feeling the cool air on their flesh?"

His vision blurred, his knees sank to the ground without protest, until he laid flat on the ground, his gaze to a narrowed view of a hazy dark sky.

He heaved, the only thing he could do at the moment. "Please. I'll give anything! I... Want to see... My wife and children again."

He could swear that there are two of them, the devil's accomplice. Another wearing a masquerade of similar pricelessness. But he didn't care. For everything he felt, an overwhelming sensation. The way that fabric clung to his body, the heat of tears streaking down his face. Everything felt amplified, everything and more at the same time.

The voice of the young man was louder, it swallowed him all. "This is the ending of you performance. Curtain call, once you step off the stage, you are one with the audience. There, you can watch your wife and children for as long as you like."

Something glinted from above. It wasn't a star, it was too dull to be one. It became larger and pointed, until  it disappeared from his sights. He screamed, when red tinges his sights and flared his body in agony.

-

"How interesting."

Early morning, the sun had just risen. Fresh tea on the table, the chair surrounding it occupied by the three brothers.

"Rather sensationalist, even for journalism. So it seems the purpose of the crime is to draw attention in it of itself."

"What is, brother?"

He lowered the newspaper, laying it flat while still holding it. "The recent noble killings, done by an individual calling himself Masquerade."

"I've heard of this one." Said the eldest, nursing red wine instead of tea, despite the time in the morning. "The noble are having quite the panic over it."

"Naturally," replied the middle brother. "Considering how gruesome they met their end. It's sure to strike fear, especially to the ones who think they are next."

He passed the newspaper to the youngest, him giving time to read it before stating. "How excessive. Peeling off the skin of the face, only to turn it upsidedown and sew it back." He frowned. "And the Baron who's victim of this. The one we profiled for trafficking?" Then a realization, he met the eyes of his older brother.

"Precisely. So far, all nobles targeted by this Masquerade figure are ones involved within the underworld."

A sip from his glass. "How interesting indeed. Do we need their help to deal with this?"

The middle brother shrugged. "Not yet. We shall wait and observe for now."

Silence enveloped the three. They have the same thought.

Friend or foe? Is the figure that struck before them.