The disguised inspector entered the party hall. Despite being tall and fully employed, his ID was verified face to face because of his young and boyish looks. He was not on duty, but his blue overcoat was thoroughly checked for weapons. He was pleasant to look at. His body was examined through his black turtle-neck and the pockets of his black jeans were felt. They even made him open his black sneakers and his socks were felt to finally leave no stone unturned.
He walked deeper into the part hall and ran a hand though his short brown hair. The people were talking to their companions, some drunk men asked for more from the drinking counter while others danced, making a complete fool of themselves. The inspector shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked towards the drinks counter. He tried to make himself feel belonged. Being young and a strict disciplinarian, he never had more than three shots in his life. People poked him unknowingly with their elbows as he passed by them. One such foot passenger happened to turn a blind eye and banged into the inspector, fair and square.
"Watch out," the inspector said in a fierce voice, but gently enough as if admonishing the person's lack of attention while walking and at the same time, giving another chance of amendment.
"I am extremely sorry, sir," a shrill and firm voice answered. The voice wasn't too high pitched, but given the person's appearance, the inspector was surprised to attach the soft voice to the owner. He could only see a shadow since the person was dressed in black from top to foot, a black hood drawn over the head. He could not see the face as it was fixed downwards.
The figure made to pass by him but the inspector caught hold of the slim but strong arm and pulled at it.
"You seem troubled," he said. "Can I help you?"
The figure out a hand on the inspector's wrist and freed the arm. In a quiet and sincere voice, now a bit heavy, came the reply, "I can help myself. Thank you, sir."
The brief contact with the person made the inspector feel warm and dizzy at the same time. The hood, after was freed from the clutches of the inspector tried to make its way through the crowd. But the shadow of the hood in front of the concealed eyes made the forward direction a dark path for the hood. It led to one bump after another and finally resulted in tripping down, palms held out in front, shielding the face.
At the same time, the doors of the hall banged open and cast a nervous silence around the hall. The only sounds audible were the shuffling of feet and the few murmurs of confused people.
Soon, loud footsteps were heard approaching from every direction. They sounded urgent and quick. The inspector stood his place and looked all around him. Soon, the music started up again and the drowned the thud of the heavy shoes. The people started talking and dancing again, as if nothing had happened.
The inspector wouldn't succumb to the normal behavior. He knew there was something wrong. He rotated a full seven-twenty degrees and his eyes fell on a figure crouched on the ground on all fours.
It happened in a flash. The figure rose quickly and turned towards the inspector. It was the hood, the inspector realized, and looked at the covered eyes. Before he could act, the dark figure ran. Slamming into the inspector, the hood nearly cost him his balance. The inspector watched, dazzled, the slim yet strong figure make its way through the crowd.
Suddenly, he realized that he might lose the scent of a marvelous mystery. So he ran. Ran after the dark trail, passing through gaps in the sea of people as though he were jelly.
Soon, he was out of the hall. He looked ahead and spotted his interest running like a deer, both scared and fast. The inspector memorised the movements of the hood and ran ahead to catch his victim.
It wasn't easy keeping up with the hood. Despite his young age and strong build with hard and fast legs, the dark figure moved swiftly and seemed to blend in with the darkness, making it difficult for him to even see the victim. The hood ran as if aware that there was danger everywhere around. The inspector felt like chasing the night itself. The bundle of darkness climbed the wall as easily as a cat would and disappeared on the other side. The inspector followed the exact trail, because all other paths were too long. He could not climb as fast, but he was trained to make up for such obstacles by running fast enough.
The hood jumped over the roof of a Benz and rolled on the ground to reduce the sharp effect of falling. All that preoccupied the dark mind was to get away as far as possible. A fight would not be good as the hood specialized in a lot but hand to hand combat. Taking down one would be simple, two or three could still be managed, but there were numerous on the trail. Maybe more than the last time as the hard pounding on the floor of the party hall suggested. But the good was getting tired. The long slim legs were starting to tremble.
The hood climbed one last wall and stood at the top, resolving to hide in a tree till they leave. From there, noises of rustling leaves and crumpling were prominent from the behind the wall. The figure turned back. A man, young man, was running and was coming closer. He seemed to be as fast as the watcher, yet, more tired. Naturally, since he was only human.
As he came closer, the hood realized that it was the same young man who was insisting on providing help back at the party. He stopped running as he approached the wall. The hood was spotted. The man seemed to realize that he had been spotted as well. He approached slowly as if the figure in top of the wall was some kind of timid bird. He stared at the dark, shadowed face of the good, trying to make out the details. But the bright moon behind the hood kept the face darkened.
The hood seemed to reciprocate by drinking in the details of this unexpected chaser. He was dressed like some sort of spy. He was good-looking, even though his lips were parted, panting, and his brown hair had been messed by the wind.
Then came the sound of thumping feet, far behind the man with the overcoat. But the hood heard them, all right. In a hurry to escape, the hood lost footing and fell on the other side.
The inspector stared in shock. The fall of the hood led to the revelation of the dark face beneath.
Lying before him, with her back against the wall was the most beautiful and intimidating face the inspector had ever laid eyes on. He stared at the unnatural beauty, which stared back at him.
"Who are you?" he asked, softly.
The girl did not reply. She stared at the blue eyes of the intruder, her lips parted with heavy breathing. Her eyes were an unusual red, the colour of rust.
The boy and girl stared at each other, each trying to administer what the other was thinking. The girl acted first and grabbed the inspector's wrist. She placed his palm on her face. He was surprised by the sudden movement. He looked down from his hand to the her eyes, trying to figure out what she was up to.
"Look at me," the girl said. The inspector had no trouble doing so. He stared right into the rusty red eyes before him. He felt his palm go warmer and his mind slackened. But he did not break eye contact.
The eyes glowed red, brighter than the traffic light. The inspector didn't even have time to gasp. He felt his head spin and his eyes forced themselves wider.
The inspector's eyes glowed as red as his Confronter. His lips pressed into a hard line.
The girl let go of his wrist and stood up. The inspector followed.
"I am sorry for this," the girl whispered, not sounding sorry at all. She patted his shoulder lightly and ran off, leaving him standing alone in the dark. He wasn't himself. He didn't know where it what he was. He knew one thing : fight.
Hoards of men came running down the wall. The inspector inspected them all. They didn't seem interested in him but his whole body shouted to kick those men away.
He advanced towards the shortest among the seven. The latter never had the time to register that he was being targeted. A stone hard fist punched him right in his nose. Overcome with shock and pain, he lost balance. Cupping his hands over his nose, he landed on his knees and shut his eyes tightly. He whimpered, but didn't shout.
The rest of the crew turned back towards the noise. The first stared at the inspector with shock, then his face cleared with realization.
"His eyes!" one of them cried. "Look at his eyes!"
All the men looked at the inspector unanimously. His eyes seemed to send a beam of danger into their veins.
It was all just a blur. The next thing the seven chasers faced were not short of violent torture. The inspector fought mainly due to the non - verbal orders imposed on him by the hood. He was young, strong and determined to kill.
Soon, seven half dead men lied at his feet. All had broken something or the other. Simultaneously, the spell lifted from the inspector and he looked at the horror with his own blue eyes. Vulnerability dawned upon him and he staggered to his knees. His knuckles ached as if split open. His ankles roared with pain and he realized the terror of what he had done.
There was no moonlight. All got hidden behind the clouds. The inspector knew that the hood was responsible. But he knew that searching for her was next to impossible. She had fled long back. He wished he had never set eyes on her.
