Black Nightingale- Chapter 3- Flirting With Murder

Black Nightingale- The Prey That Hunts Back

Due to violence, language and some sexual content.

Chapter 3: Flirting with Murder

Nevina’s Narration:

It’s happening again. He’s back. Somehow. And this time, it’s different. Because I’ve been waiting. I’ve been preparing. My gym sessions with Greg, boxing classes, karate classes, boot camp workouts, combat training, you name it. I’ve done it. And it all started with one self-defense class. My night hustle has been part of my training too. How many men can I leave petrified? I’ve lost count. Although I guess you could say that cat calling men are not as much of a risk as a full on murderer. But then again, NO man should ever tower over you, making you feel inferior. The Black Hawk may be back. But, this time, he’s not the only bird in town. He has no idea who he’s messing with. For every woman I save…the nights can rest a little easier. And soon enough he will be right where he belongs, on death row or in the ground. It’s up to me to right this wrong. To give all the women whose lives he stole, some justice. To save others from his preying eyes. His deathly stare and his rake of death. I will not rest until he is gone. For good. Ladies…it’s time we take back our nights. Our walks. Our jogs. Our freedom. You know what they say, if you want something done right, do it yourself.

Nevina puts on her black leather costume. She shuts off the news report on the television that is describing another brutal murder. She carefully sneaks down her building fire escape, like a thief in the night. Like so many nights before. Her quest to find her prey- The Black Hawk.

Nevina’s spiked black heels crushing leaves as she walks, the full moon shining down upon her. Her head held high.

“Ahhh, ahhhhh!!! Help! Someone help me!” She hears a female shrieking. She picks up her pace rushing toward the direction of the screams.

Suddenly I see a young brunette girl, with olive complexion and brown eyes, rushing past me, clutching her chest in fear. “Run, Run, he’s coming, The Black Hawk, I saw him!” she screams and then stills as she seems me.

“Wait…who…who are you?” she says backing away, her eyes shifting all around. “Are you his partner, or something…” she says stepping back nervously.

“No. I’m a friend. To all women. Go. Run. Find a safe place. I’ll take care of this. I say reaching into my pocket, I pull out a black hair comb, with a flick of my wrist it turns into a knife. Clever right?

The young brunette girl looks on stunned as she rushes off. I don’t blame her. It’s hard to trust anyone these days.

The news has reported that The Black Hawk’s murdered 6 women so far. The police have no leads. And his recipe seems, pretty slasher standard. Stalk women at night in dark, secluded places. Each attack he makes more violent and gory than the last. Rake through the face was just the beginning for him. He’s hunting women like prey.

Rounding the corner I see him, walking through a dark alley. Calm. Cool. Collected. In that smug designer suit. Who the fuck wears a fedora anymore? His eyes haven’t met mine yet. He hasn’t spotted me. So I have an advantage. He looks rather… disappointed. Almost as if he, failed his mission to slay yet another woman. I duck behind some tall trees, removing my mask, I toss it to the side. It’s show time.

* “Murder” by Justin Timberlake begins to play*

PLAY SONG

I tuck away my knife beneath the sleeve of my leather jacket. Fluffing my hair, and adjusting my cleavage, I exit from behind the trees and bushes. Making sure my heels click, and my hips sway. After all, brunettes, olive complexion, brown eyes. Hmm, seems I’m just his type.

I see him. He stills. Turns. His eyes lock on me. The Hawk Mask is creepy. One of nature’s dark predators. Clever. I’ll give him credit. But a fucking mini garden tool. Give me a break.

He begins walking toward me, with swift, long strides. His weapon glistening in his hand.

My eyes dark. Focused on him. He freezes, suddenly confused. I begin walking toward him. My tanned legs glistening with oil.

Even in his mask, I can see his head move, looking me up and down.

“Oh, hey there. Oh am I supposed to go running and screaming or something?” I say coyly. Flirting with murder.

He nods, silently.

“Oh, but, I can’t run in these shoes, baby.” I say walking up to him, I touch his chest my fingers dancing up toward his neck, straightening his tie. “It’s a shame, I think you and I could have a lot of fun.” I say, my tongue sliding across my teeth, as I bite my lower lip.

See, I know I’m playing with fire here. But this misogynistic asshole seems intrigued. Sure he wants to kill me. But I can also sense his attraction. His eyes watching me as I circle around him. My hands sliding along his shoulders. Taunting him. He likes the chase, but this is somehow keeping his attention. Reverse psychology for the win. Ew, he’s probably one of those gross guys who likes role play.

He grabs my wrist swiftly.

“Someone likes to play rough, huh?” I say playing the part. Ugh why were 90’s slasher girls always so overly sexualized. I mean really come on.

Black Hawk, nods. I hear him, suck in a breath. He’s enjoying this. Freak. I bite my lower lip, looking up at him.

“You like taking control of women.” I say unbuttoning is suit jacket, sliding my hands up his chest. He stills. His heart beating, no pounding against his chest. He tightens his grip on my wrist, tucking his weapon away. My knife safely tucked away and velcroed to my other wrist. His hands grip my hips. As they slide across my silk slip dress, cupping my butt. His body pressed against mine. Gross. He’s liking this.

“Huh, well, do you wanna play a game?” I say, leaning into him, his neck slightly exposed. Taking it a step further, I place a dark black lip stain on his neck. He cocks his head back, and let’s out a groan.

“You like that, Black Hawk?” I whisper in his ear.

He nods, his touch becoming more intense. His grip harder, tighter. More aggressive.

“Hmm, great.” I say as I loosen his tie, unbuttoning some buttons on his collar. I place a few kisses along his neck and collar bone.

Using my feminine wiles to take notice of anything that could be a key feature. He smells like cigars and after shave. His body frame is fit, minimal chest hair, and from what I can tell, he has a tattoo over his heart. He grabs my hand before I get to fully read it.

“Off limits?” I say pouting.

He nods. Still silent. But I still can feel his heart pounding.

“You get off on feeling in control of women, right? You like playing God. Deciding which of us gets to live. Which get to die?” I say my flirting is on point. I have to say ya girl is SLAYING this interaction.

He nods. His hands sliding up my dress.

“Wait. Baby wait.” I say pulling away, pushing him gently. Pulling my dress down. Trying to cover up.

He stills, I feel his anger. He doesn’t like being led on, or told no.

“Oh no, have I upset you?”

He nods.

“I didn’t mean to. I just. Ya know. I know I came on strong. But maybe we can just slow it down a bit.”

He shakes his head no.

“But I said no.”

“No one, says no, to me” he says finally uttering his first words. His voice deep, husky and without any trace of sympathy.

“Well, it’s not a no, it’s a not right now. We just met, maybe we just need to take it one step at a time.” I say pretending to stumble over my own feet as I back away.

He shakes his head no.

“Are you going to kill me now?” I say fearfully.

He nods yes, silently. Back to the silent treatment.

“Ok. Ok, wait…we were doing so well. Let’s play a game first. You like to play games right?” I say as I continue to back away from him.

He slowly follows. His glare, dark, evil. And oddly enough, kind of familiar. Could this be someone I’ve met before? In passing. Or if slasher film history would have it, could this be someone that I actually know?

He nods. Calmly as he advances. He reaches for his weapon once again.

“Ok, let’s play, a game.” I say my voice appearing shaky.

This could easily get out of control. But I remain focused. On course. My mission set in stone. He reaches me. Standing before me, he raises his rake, and I swiftly pull out my hair comb knife and stab him in the stomach before he could stab me.

“Now how about you run, and I chase you?” I say staring into his dark eyes as he falls to his knees, groaning. His rake falling to the floor.

TO BE CONTINUED…

*I do not take credit for any images used in my edits or otherwise.*

For daily updates on this project follow me on instagram @michelleleighwritesvibes

Happy Thursday!

-<3-

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