Death does not need to be invited. It arrives when it has to and there is no escaping it. Some of us help others to escape it and some of us ensure it arrives sooner. Agents of death, if you may call them or in plain words, cold blooded serial killers who do not give a fuck about your feeling and emotions. The value of a human life in their eyes is as low as the respect we have for humanity these days.
Death is but a wish we all strive for in the end.
Zaltrac was waiting for “Bangalore Psycho” at 1800 hours outside a numerologist’s house in Jayangar. He had shortlisted 5 more numerologists and stationed police escorts outside their houses as well but the psycho never came.
Zaltrac was on his smoking marathon waiting for the serial killer to arrive but he didn’t turn up till 9 pm. 4 cigarettes later, he got a call from Janak.
“Sir, 4 people have been murdered at the TV7 headquarters.”
“These 4 people were waiting in the green room for the live broadcast where they were stabbed in the eye.”
“Were they numerologists, Janak?” Zaltrac clinched his fists.
“How the fuck did we miss them?” Zaltrac shouted and sighed simultaneously.
“They were from different cities who had come down for the show. One was from Mumbai, two were from Pune and one was from Haridwar.”
“I am going to shove my hand up this guy’s ass and make him squeak when I catch him.” Zaltrac closed his eyes and inhaled to calm himself down.
Avinash sat in the barber’s chair as shaving foam fell off his forehead into his lap. In the background, a shady Bollywood song was playing which clearly had no sensible interpretation. A few minutes later, he felt his head by running his hands. A clean shaven head with a heavy stubble made him feel like a hippie but deep inside his soul, he was a monster who had tasted the joy of killing. He wanted more blood.
Why does anyone kill?
To satisfy ego or inflict revenger or pain.
Why does anyone kill again and again?
No fucking soul except the killer knows.
Human psychology is a weird subject and mostly, there are no explanations for a lot of phenomenons. Bangalore Psycho had already become a phenomenal case study for local psychologists, and for Zaltrac it had become an egotistical issue.
He took a vow that he will shave his head daily until he grabs hold of the psycho, and so in a hair salon not far away he shaved his head too.
Now, there were two bald people, both frustrated with their lives, both addicted to nicotine ready to run behind each other and satisfy their ego. The city was to be their battleground.
Zaltrac looked at his phone as he walked out of the Barber shop. It was a message from Janak.
“ 2 Killed in Koramangala, matrimony match makers, stabbed in the eye, rotten egg all over their desk.”
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