If Looks Could Kill

Prologue

Barrett stands within the crowd of people gathered around the little house on the corner of the street. Almost every single neighbor is here, trying to see what is happening. The only source of light is the blue and red flashes from the police cars that line the sidewalk in front of the house. There has to be at least seven of them, each one with two officers hidden behind them, their guns trailed on the front door of the house.

The air is cold, yet Barrett can't help but feel overheated in his thick, black, leather jacket. He tilts his head down and quickly runs his hand through his dark hair, smoothing down any loose strands. There is no wind, so he doesn't have to worry about it messing up his perfectly placed hair. Barrett can't help but notice a few teenage girls casting glances in his direction, even in the dim and tinted lighting. He smirks to himself.

The door to the house bursts open and every single police officer tenses, until they see that a man is being carried out unconscious by a few of their fellow officers. It takes four men to hold up the one in the middle, dressed in all black. There is a blood stain across the top of his bald head, and it falls all the way down his face, which is hanging to face the ground.

A few more police officers exit the front door, with their guns trailed on the criminal being dragged out in front of them. This man has done unspeakable things. It's no wonder there are so many bullets ready to shoot him down.

Barrett is close enough to the man and the officers carrying him to hear one of them talking to another that is still hidden behind a cop car.

"He was already knocked out when we got in. The mom said she didn't do it. She said someone shook her awake and just told her to get out of the house with her kids. No idea what he looked like."

"So we're thinking some guy fought him off before he got to the kids, caused that wound, knocked him out, and then fled?" the second officer says, clearly not believing it. Barrett smirks to himself.

All of the men holding up the serial killer somehow manage to shove him into a police car. They lock the door behind him and Barrett lets out a sigh of relief. The police have got it covered from here. He takes his hand out of his pocket, letting go of his gun and zips up his jacket. With that, he turns and quietly makes his way out of the crowd of people. Everyone pretty much ignores him, still trying to get a look at what's going on in their usually still neighborhood.

The streets get darker and darker the farther Barrett walks away from the police lights. Every other street in this town is still fast asleep, with no idea of what could have happened just a block away from them. But it had been prevented. All thanks to him.

Barrett finally comes upon his car, and slips inside. It's already way warmer than the outside air, so he lets out a small sigh of relief. This mission is over and done with. Now onto the next psychopath.