Test Number Three (Closed to Ember_Fangs)

Grace Marie Daniels. That's what the file in John's hands said at the top. Paper files, how primitive. John thought to himself as he looked at it while sitting in the old orphanage. This place is revolting. Trying to give these kids hope? Hope, such a silly concept. It only serves to make them weaker, to make them imagine a light at the end of the tunnel. How crushed they will be when they find out the cruel reality of life. As he thought this too himself, a kid tugged on the arm of his suit. "Let go of me." He ordered the kid, waving his arm free of his grasp. The small red haired child looked up at him with tears in his eyes. He looked too young to speak but was able to walk. "What? Don't give me that look." He ordered the kid before a nun walked in. "Oh Timothy, what happened?" she asked, John wiping the scowl of disgust from his face to from a fake sympathetic frown. "He tripped when he came inside." As John said this, the nun looked at his knees to check for damage from the fall that John made up. "You should be fine, Timothy, why don't you go find David?" The small child ran off and the nun turned her attention to John. "Did you find what you were looking for?" She asked him. John had lied when he came here. Said he had been looking for his daughter that he had left here. This girl was of special interest to him. She was smart and had powers but it was beyond that that made her interesting to John. The girl had turned up at crime scenes that ranged from random to ones that involved some of the branches of John's web of crime. The fact that she had done such things had brought her file to his email folder two months ago. One of the men at the end of the branch had notified him of the little pest and asked him to take care of it. Naturally, he accepted. It served him a purpose too, he would get to find out if this hero would try and stop his attempt to progress the world into it's next great age. He had to torture thugs and guards to see if they had seen her when the security camera tapes were found erased but eventually he traced her roots back to this orphanage. He went in on the gamble that they had not seen her real parents before and he was able to claim that position. He had shape shifted to make him look about ten years older and changed his skin colour. "Yes, thank you. Do you mind if I get a copy of this." He asked, not waiting for an answer as he moved his hand to his tablet to scan it into it using the camera. Handing it back to the nun, he ran a hand through his black hair. He then left the old building and tapped the ear piece in his ear. "Do you see the girl?" He asked the man on the other end. He was one of his many mercenaries. "Yes, sir."

"Kill a civilian, any of them will due, and let her come after you. If you can defeat her, good. If not, make sure she gets the disc off of you."

"You'll get me out of prison, right sir?" He asked with nervousness in his voice.

"Of course." John assured him, he had no intention of doing so though. He'd just leave him to rot in prison. Maybe he'd pay over a guard to kill him so he didn't share any of his information with them in exchange for a lowered sentence.

"AAKKK!!!" Came the Assassin's scream as the blade pierced his legs. He fell through the cold Chicago air and onto the cold, hard concrete. "Your message." He sputtered out after she asked him a question. He lay there on his back, blood running on the stone grey concrete. His hand reached intot he pocket of his dark brown vest to produce a CD disc. "From my employer." He sputtered out slowly before falling unconscious. This was not at all what he had expected to happen.



Meanwhile, back at the orphanage, John climbed into the black limousine waiting for him. The chemical he used to alter his face was wearing off, he would need to inject more next time he used it. The long, shiny black car rode down the street and around the corners. The rubber wheels screeched on the pavement as the driver returned John to his estate in Chicago. The large estate came into sight after some length of time driving. Soon enough, the young girl would listen to the audio recording. The recording would tell her these exact words "Hello there, Miss Daniels. I hope I haven't disturbed you too much today. How are you feeling? Sad? Helpless? Alone? Longing for your father? Don't worry, that's what I'm here for. I have a little game for you to play. It's not that hard really. All you have to do are solve some little conundrums to save the lives of citizens, the last of which will be your father. If you solve the puzzles, the hostages go free. If not, they die. It's up to you and your abilities to decide whether or not you get to meet your father or he gets to meet the devil. Well, I think I've rambled long enough and I'll get straight to the point now. There is a police investigation, going on at this very moment. Now, you're probably thinking that there are tons of cases open right now and that your tiny little mind couldn't figure out which one I want solved. Isn't that right, Grace? Ordinary people, you're so adorable. The case is an investigation into the drive by shooting that happened a couple weeks back. What they don't understand is the clue I'm giving to you, it wasn't random. it was used to hide the assassination of Richard Macintosh, a teacher at a nearby high school. I want you to go and figure out who committed the crime and why. You have 12 hours from the time you hear this message. My number is written on the disc, call me when you're done. Goodbye, Gracie, I hope to hear from you soon."

The cell phone that the number was registered to was disposable and untraceable just in case the girl decided to try and go snooping. The drive by shooting that he has her looking into was one that he had been contacted about. A man said he wanted the man dead and he had a small group of thugs in the area kill him and disguise it as a drive by shooting. The man was a parent of some child that went there. The teacher had been selling drugs to students under the noses of everyone and got the man's kid addicted. Eventually, the child overdosed and died. Instead of contacting law enforcement, he contacted a branch of John's who informed him of the matter. John hoped that he didn't mind that he had some kid looking into him, it was nothing personal and the kid probably wouldn't get too far anyways.

This game that John played was a boring one for most. It required patience to the highest degree. Every detail had to be planned, scrapped, replanned and scrapped again. This process was repeated until it came to it's current version. All that was consistently spur of the moment was the target. Occasionally, there would be other spur of the moment decisions, such as this time. The wait of the current game was what John found hardest to bear. The slow, antagonizing wait had brought John to the brink of boredom. To pass the time, John shouted down to one of Azazel. "Get the car running, Azazel." As John left the black leather office chair that he rested on, he ran a hand through his currently black hair. His black shoes made small noises on the staircase as he made his way down them to the car that was waiting for him out front. He straightened his red and black striped tie and entered the shiny black car.

Azazel steered the car towards the orphanage that he had recently been at, researching his prey. There was an underground kid street gang that operated in the area that his informants had told him that Gracie had previously worked in. The car tires screeched as they approached where he had been informed was their current base of operations. As they arrived, John shifted into the form of another man. His hair changed to balding some dark hair around his head. His height and weight shifted a bit as he slid into a black rain jacket. He stepped out of the car, the drops of water splashing against his semi bald head and his glasses. "Excuse me, did a Gracie Marie Daniels hang around here at one point? I'm a friend of her fathers' and he sent me looking for her."

One of the kids, dressed in a black hoodie with a skull design on it and wearing a pair of fake ruined jeans, spoke up. "Get out of here, we don't tell people like you nothing about us."

"I'm asking nicely one more time." John, in his disguise, replied calmly.

"Your wasting your time, fool." Came the quick reply. A hole appeared in his forehead where the bullet hit. Azazel had drawn his weapon and murdered the man. Intimidation, check. They should be reaching for their weapons any second now. After Azazel slaughters a few more of them, the fun can begin.

The gun fight had erupted, as planned. John reached into the pocket of his coat and fired off a couple of shots into the crowd. Crimson blood spurted out of the wounds of a couple of the kids. As the crimson coloured liquid splattered on the cold, grey concrete, the kids began to realize that this wasn't the smartest course of action. They slowed to a halt and a couple were met by bullets in their heads. "Drop your weapons and get on your hands and knees." He ordered, waving the gun a little bit. Azazel had lowered his pistol but had not placed it back inside of it's holster. John's hand signaled to Azazel to call the refrigerated truck he required. The phone in John's jacket pocket vibrated slightly before playing his ring tone. Pulling it from his pocket, he placed it up to his ear as he approached the kids on their knees. He tapped the back of each of their heads with the barrel of the pistol, reminding them who was in charge. "Hello Gracie." The voice would come out as distorted on Gracie's end. "Oh, good, you're a little smarter than I thought. Right now I'd say you're somewhere between a rat and a dog. Oh, I'll let him go. I always keep my end of the bargain. I'm just meeting up with some old friends of yours right now, would you like to talk to one of them?" When she responded affirmatively, he would hand the phone to one of his captives. While the captive and Gracie spoke, he would not interfere besides nudging the barrel of his pistol into the back of his captive's neck. He looked up to see the white refrigerated van drive up. After it arrived, the driver slumped forward, shot by Azazel Once they had had five minutes to talk, he moved the phone back up to his ear. "I hope you said goodbye." He told her coldly before pulling the trigger and murdering the captive. "I've got another puzzle for you, we'll see if the rest of your friends go out the same way. I know which schools you've been to, Gracie. And this puzzle is going to involve one of them. I'm not going to tell you which one, that would take all the fun out of it. I've replaced the water in the fire sprinklers in the school with a form of liquid cyanide. Now, you have to find this school and either evacuate everyone or make everyone take an antidote or get the poison out of the sprinklers before it goes off in, oh, let's say 6 hours. Have fun." John tapped the red end call button on the phone and signaled to Azazel to open the refrigerated truck. Once he had opened the doors to the white van, the two loaded the children inside.

With Azazel driving the car, John drove the van out towards a truck yard. It was deserted and even if it wasn't, it wouldn't matter. It was unlikely they would search his truck, if they conducted searches at all. The men he had planned to meet here came out of the back of another truck when Azazel drove up in the car. John, Azazel and the mercenaries walked towards the back of the refrigerated van. Two mercenaries opened the door and the rest of the mercenaries had their rifles trained on the kids inside. "Now, get on your knees." John ordered them. They obeyed and dropped down to their knees. They knew that they would lose another member if the didn't follow his commands. The little red dots on their foreheads reminded them who was in charge. John and a few of the mercenaries hopped into the back of the cold van. These kids could survive a few hours in the back of the van. One of the mercenaries tossed John a few pairs of handcuffs while each of them got out their own pairs. The squad of hired soldiers and John began to handcuff their captives. Each hand was handcuffed to one of the two bars that ran along the ceiling. They placed each hand between the handcuffs of another person to make escape a little more difficult. They hung there, in the back of the van, like pigs. Pigs prepared for slaughter. Satisfied with their work, the soldiers hopped out of the van. On the other hand, John wasn't finished with these kids just yet. He reached his hand out to Azazel and Azazel passed him a crowbar. Holding it up like a baseball bat, he smashed it into a couple of the kids. After a few minutes of beating them with a crowbar, he grew tired of their screams and hopped out of the van. The doors were sealed behind him by the mercenaries. "We can come back for them in a few hours. In the mean time, I'm going to lunch."

After finishing lunch at the restaurant, John walked out towards the double glass doors. He was still disguised as he made his way towards his black car. The mercenaries had remained at the truck yard. Azazel had stayed with them in order to make sure that nothing went wrong. John's foot pressed against the gas pedal and the car began the journey back to the truck yard. Eventually, he arrived. The black rubber tires rolled closer to the refrigerated van he had brought the kids in. The door to his car opened and he stepped out into the sunlight. His shoes made small sounds against the pavement as he approached the van. The phone in his pocket started to buzz. Pulling it out, he recognized Gracie's number by now. "Hello again, Gracie. I assume this means you saved those kids? Good. And if you want to meet face to face, I'm sure something can be arranged. I would just have to get in touch with your Dad, you shouldn't meet with strangers without a parent present." He informed her with a mocking tone of voice. He signaled to the mercenaries to open the doors so he could get into the back of the van. They had followed his orders that he gave them while eating lunch. The children had been handcuffed onto the table in there, their hands flat against them.

(Play this)

An iPod and speakers had been placed inside, as per John's orders. Flicking on the song Die Forelle, he continued to speak. "Your friends are getting cold in here." He told her as he climbed into the back of the van. Examining their fingers, he added "My, my, they're practically frozen." Smiling to himself, he continued. "You solved the puzzle in three hours. This means each of your friends will loose three fingers." John picked up a hammer and slammed it down on the ring finger of one of the kids. The kid screamed in terror as the red liquid seeped from his smashed finger. John looked at him with no mercy as his screams and the music filled the small van. Gracie would be able to hear every last scream. He repeated this merciless smashing two more times on the same child before moving on to the next one.


Eventually, each of the kids were missing their ring, middle and index finger on their left hand. He returned his attention to Gracie and asked her "When and where would you like to meet?"

A chuckle escaped John's throat. Look who wants to make the orders now. The chuckles quickly grew into full on psychotic laughter. "Sweet heart, you're not in the position to be making orders. I've got your friends in the back of a van in complete pain. It's not even close to the full amount of suffering I can inflict upon your little friends. You know, they are so pathetic." John looked back up at the inside of the refrigerated van. His men were covering each of the hostages' broken fingers in gauze so they didn't bleed to death. Bleeding to death was anticlimactic. It was much more fun to watch the life slowly leave their eyes. Torture was a fun method. It was slow, painful and you got to watch as they suffered. Definitely the most enjoyable form of killing someone. "I get there when I want to, kiddo." He heard the buzz, signalling to him that the young child on the other end had hung up.

This was getting fun for John. His game was nowhere near over. This wasn't even halfway. They hadn't made it through the first act yet. The first act is always the one with the least amount of excitement in John's mind. The real fun was to be had in the second and third act. The so called "heroes" think that they have seen the worse, not even close. So far he had only been establishing the rules. He was in control of this. Oh if they only knew what I have planned, they'd just die. This play is just beginning. The rules are still being written. The first act hasn't concluded yet. John enjoyed thinking of the world as a play or as a game of chess. Everyone was a piece to be played. They were all important, even these little pawns that he had played with so far. These games he played with them, these obstacles he placed in their way, it was all to decide what piece they were on the board.

Back at his mansion, there lay a chess board. It had cost a fortune. One side was made of crystal, the other made of Jade. Each time he tested a hero, he taped a thumbnail sized picture of them onto a piece. The first time, he taped a picture of Deluge onto a knight on the side made of jade. He had taped a picture of the other boy onto a pawn on the same side. In his subsequent testing with a hero that went by the name of "The Ranger", he taped a picture of him onto a bishop. This girl, this little girl, hadn't proved herself much of a threat on her own. Once these tests had concluded, John would tape her picture onto a pawn.

Back at the truck yard, John's shoes made tapping sounds as he walked over to his car. The mercenaries had finished making sure that the prisoners would not bleed to death and now were in the process of locking the back of the truck. About three of them were in the back of the truck with the prisoners to make sure that they did not get too shaken up during the ride. The black, rubber tires of the refrigerated van and the black car screeched as they drove to the meeting site. As Azazel drove the car, John sat in the back. Beside John lay the take out box from his lunch. The sights outside the window whizzed by as they drove off to the meeting point that the girl had specified. He had said that he would get her Dad, he obviously would not. Instead, he shape shifted into the form of the African American man that resembled Gracie. He had used the disguise at the Orphanage before. "Remember the plan." he reminded Azazel. The car approached the meeting place, the van close behind.

Azazel opened his door and walked over to the one that the disguised John sat by. He grabbed John, in his disguise, by the collar and shoved him to the ground. Pretending to be John himself, Azazel grabbed the real John and hauled him closer to Gracie. The mercenaries, at the same time, brought her gang out of the car and filed them in a single file line facing Gracie. Each one had an assault rifle barrel against the side of their head, ready to blow their brains out. John, putting on an act, exclaimed "Gracie!" His new voice gave off a tone of surprise and shock at seeing his "daughter". "You've grown up so much." Azazel smacked the back of his head and nudged the pistol against his neck, shouting "Quiet!" Looking up at Gracie, he mimicked John's normal voice to the best of his ability. "Hello Gracie, nice to finally meet you face to face."

Azazel's eyes could see Gracie's hand fish into her pocket and rest on another object that was already inside it. Calling for back up? He silently questioned as he continued to hold the loaded pistol to the back of his employer's head. All part of the plan.

John, though patient, was tired of waiting. This game had gone on quite some time already and this deception was making it longer still, he would have to speed things up a little. There were more pieces that needed to be assigned to his opponents. He was thinking about going to New York for the next target. The next target had not been acquired just yet, but John had one in mind already. It's time this game should end, another so called "hero" needs their chance to prove their worth to me. He thought to himself as Azazel beckoned to the hired mercenaries by the car to drag out Gracie's friends.

"Why, they're right over there." Azazel told her, beckoning to where they were now kneeling on the grass field. The mercenaries had their weapons against their necks in case any of them tried anything.

John, wanting to move on to the next hero, got up and shapeshifted back too his usual handsome form. "Enough of this already, Gracie. You've taken far too long to complete my tasks, I need to move on to the next target." He told her as mercenaries and Azazel rushed forward to grab her. John walked back to the car, in case the girl tried anything. If the mercenaries were able to capture her, she would be shoved into the back of the refrigerated van, alongside her friends. John had plans for what he was going to do to each of them.