The sky was an ominous gray. It was the dark, thick type of gray that fervently refused any sunlight to creep though and touch down in order to warm the ground below. Perhaps it was best that way; the sunlight being denied entrance. The heinous scene happening below the tumultuous clouds would clash too horribly with the light-hearted beams of optimism. No, for a deed such as this to take place, the setting must remain cold and metallic. Beneath it all was no family taking a walk in the park, no calm scene of nature.

It was nothing but hard concrete and a broken body which lacked both heat and pulse.

Several appendages attached to the human body were bent into awkward, unnatural positions. If one were to examine the defeated corpse closely, they would find blood, still fresh and bright beneath the fingernails. The blood, which most likely belonged to the deceased, also coated the palms and clothing of the individual. Oddly enough, the shoes were missing, exposing the cold feet to the elements. Back up top, the mouth of the person was slightly left ajar and open, as were the eyes. It gave the impression that he (or at least, through all the mess, resembled a "he") had died mid-sneeze.

A correction to the setting.

The body was not alone.

There were two, very much alive, beings at the scene as well. Both had ownership over a racing heart, though they raced for different reasons. One from the thrill of murder and one due to absolute terror. One knew of the other's presence in the filthy, concrete alleyway, the other didn't. One held a tiny camera no bigger than a thumbnail in his sweaty grip, the other simply feasted with his eyes on the "artwork" he had created with the dirtied knife in his cold, languid hold. The sadistic criminal with the knife wore a smile.

No, not a smile. More like a small tug at the corner of his mouth. A sad grimace of a grin.

He probably wouldn't be tugging so much had he known that half his face was being caught on film at that very moment whilst he stood over his kill. The man, no, teenage boy, with the camera was trying as hard as possible to cram his lithe body into the darkest pools of the shadow. With wide eyes, the young man watched the murderer's every movement. The camera in his vice hold was long forgotten, the tiny, almost unnoticeable recording light still blinking even though no intentional filming was taking place. Well, whether intentional or not, the face (or at least half a face) of the mad man was now being stored into the miniscule camera's memory drive.

To the hidden individual's luck, a cheery, loud voice popped out of the speaker built in on the side of the device within his possession. "Video Saved!"

The boy mentally smacked himself.

The man with the knife raised his head and his eyes seemed to settle directly onto the shadow where the boy was hiding. The young heart beat faster while his breath hitched. Oh great, I'm done for, he thought. Ducking down onto his knees and clenching his muscles as hard as possible, he stayed silent while feeling as though his chest was ready to explode; ready to make a large red mess akin to the one that lay in the middle of the ally way.

Had the murderer had a steadier hand and a better estimation as to where and what was hiding in that shadow, a good three inches, and he probably truly would have been "done for".

The knife that was launched at him flew faster and covered more distance than any standard knife would have. Then again, standard knives usually don't softly glow red around the edges and make an unmistakably drilling sound when they fly. The knife flew right over the boy's shoulder, just barely missing his neck, and continued to keep going, sailing right through the wall the teenager was pressed up against. The boy, now stunned out of his wits, rose up bit and found himself staring at the small tunnel the still traveling, still glowing knife had left. It was literally cutting its own pathway through metal and concrete, slicing away like everything was butter. In the midst of his amazement, the teen barely noticed that at some point, the glow of the weapon was getting brighter. It was returning…all by itself. With reflexes naturally developed from his family, he withdrew his face from the hole just in time to not have it cut in half.

The knife continued to speed right back to the man creature who had thrown it and for a good moment or two; it seemed as if it would strike right into his chest. But no, instead the man casually lifted his palm in front of him, mimicking a "stop" signal. In the middle of his own calloused palm, a circle of red glow pulsed. The knife simply floated in mid-air in front of him before he grabbed it. As soon as the fingers made contact with the handle, the red glow of the knife faded away.

Something made the young man wary; he was sure the light from the knife had sold him out. He quaked in the shadows, not even sure if he could breathe anymore. It seemed as though the knife was about to be thrown again, from the way it was raised and drawn back. But something halted the large man's movements. He had seen the camera's tiny recording light. He knew what it was.

Just like the sadistic being he was, his mouth tugged at the corner some more. That same sad grimace of a grin.

This was just what he needed.

With that, the murderer turned, stashed his knife away somewhere within the massive rain coat he wore, and lumbered away with heavy, resounding steps. Now, the boy in corner could see the pair of Electroslips© shoe-wear slung over the large man's shoulder. The body still laid there, bare-footed, eyes and mouth still in mid-sneeze.

The dark clouds lost their will power. It began to drizzle, and then pour down mercilessly.

There wasn't a part of the boy that wasn't sweating by now. He felt as if the dark spots floating around the edges of his vision would engulf him entirely, right there in the rain. His chest rose up and down furiously; his lungs refusing to calm down. For a second, all he could do was sit there with his camera and stare. All he could see was that knife, almost killing him…twice. At some point, the camera began slipping from his sweaty palm. He caught it just before it broke loose completely, stuffed it into the pocket of his pants, rose up off the wet concrete, and stepped out of the shadow. Stupid camera almost killed me, was his next pattern of thought.

There was a crash that came from somewhere in the dark. That was all it took to set the teen running. At first he slipped on the wet surface and hit the ground hard, but was quick to pick himself up and keep at it. It was so dark, one probably wouldn't even be able to see him as he ran…or his long tail that trailed and flicked behind him.