POV: Tavish Todd
Todd reaches toward the remote on the table beside his bed and switches on the small TV. Its grainy screen flickers to life, voice buzzing through broken speakers.
[TV news male announcer speaking]
"It's been six quiet years...
But the clown freak of DownHill has returned!
Tavish Todd aka..."
the news anchor shifts into a theatrical horror tone
"THE DEATH MASK... is back, according to reports of a murder yesterday."
[TV anchor continues]
"We're now joining Jay Bakee live, who just interviewed Lucas Lacey the detective on the case."
[Tavish Todd firm, shaky voice, half-asleep but attentive]
"A sloppy attempt to imitate me...
How dare you..."
He doesn't lift his gaze, just holds the mask at his knees
its painted grin catching the light like a specter smiling back.
His voice lowers, fury coiling in his throat. His eyes drift toward the window as sunlight begins to filter through, warm but mocking.
[He adds, quietly, seething]
"That was supposed to be my kill...
Time to take over this amateurish job...
I will show this copycat and this entire town what a true monster is..."
[He adds]
"And Mr. Lacey?..
We'll meet again."
Todd slowly raises the mask to his face. Both hands press it against his skin, locking it in place like an executioner donning his blade. He stays seated. Still. Staring at the floor. Breathing through the mask's rotten filter holes.
Minutes later…
Todd moves to the right, his boots dragging faintly over the sidewalk. He walks past the silent bakery and reaches a flickering arcade hall. Its sign is half-lit. The "D" in "GALAXY GRID" blinks like a dying star.
The front door is slightly ajar.
Todd moves to the right, steps echoing softly. He finds the worker's utility room door creaked halfway open.
He wraps both hands around it fingers tightening and steps back into the hallway, dragging it slightly behind him with one shoulder lifted.
He hunts without sound. Eyes scanning, patient, cold.
[Worker with a nerdy voice, rubbing a pimple on his chin]
"Awesome Masked Death costume, dude...
But we're about to close up.
Beat it, man..."
The worker glances at him lazily, then looks toward the Strongman game behind Todd. He laughs awkwardly, clearly unfazed.
But Todd is already lifting the hammer. Both hands locked in. The weight rises, shadows stretching with it.
The swing is fast. Brutal. Precise.
The hammer crashes into the worker's spine. His body jolts. Blood erupts in a violent spray as he collapses to his knees.
Before the boy can scream
his head lands squarely against the Strongman game, like a ritual offering. Todd raises the hammer one last time
and brings it down with monstrous force.
DING
HIGH SCORE
The machine flashes cheerfully, mocking the silence.
Todd calmly places the hammer beside the game. No words. No rush.
He turns. Walks away. Vanishes into the neon shadows of the hall.