Death is never late. At least, that's what they all say. In fact, that is just the problem about death - you don't know it. It just comes when it comes. You can't stop it. You might delay it with an operation or two for those blocked arteries. Or maybe you can try medication from the modern marvels of science. Or you can even go on some magical therapy to extend your life. It all boils down to one fact - you're dead, when you're dead. There is no stopping it.
That was the fate of perhaps the loneliest man on earth. Well, one of the loneliest men on earth. His name was Adam, a very innocent name, but his reputation carried anything but innocence. He was more well known as Serpent - a name given to him by the American Triads. Yes, American Triads. It was a joke, really, of the Asian Triads - where it all really started.
He was minding his own business - as usual. You could imagine what a hired assassin for the mafia would be doing in his free time. He was cooking his favourite dish that just happened to be a delicious serving of spaghetti and meatballs. And of course, death came along, but didn't bother knocking.
It started slow, with the first bite of his dish. His whole body went weak and he started feeling nauseated. There was this crushing feeling upon his chest and his head just felt like he'd been struck by lightning. There was a ringing in his ears and his eyes, his eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Then he saw him, that dark figure, looming right before him.
He summoned all his will to look up at the person who must have poisoned his food. He saw long hair, jet black and he seemed to be putting on surgical gloves. He produced something that looked like a miniature clockwork device from his trench-coat. It seemed to beat to a rhythm, like soft heartbeats.
"I put it in while you were in the toilet."
The question looming Adam's head was answered. When had the man put in the poison? Then, he caught the gaze of the dark figure and he realized that the poison wasn't even needed. Merely that gaze could have brought him down on his knees. It was a mix of rage, pleasure and frenzied bloodlust, all bearing down on one single victim - him. His body limped yet even more. Even with all his training and experience, he couldn't control his urge to just be afraid, very afraid.
"So, this is how death looks like...huh?" Adam tried to crack a joke.
"No...not yet!" the figure suddenly smiled, as if his cue had come.
The dark figure plunged his hands against Adam's chest. The force was so immense that there was a crack as Adam's ribs broke. He felt fingernails digging deep into his chest. Deeper, deeper and deeper they went, until somehow...his heart stopped beating. He couldn't comprehend the sensation. There was only pain to feel, more and more pain, but somehow the throbbing wasn't there. Then, he felt it, a gush of warmth into his chest cavity, and he fell unto the table.
"Don't die, just yet..." he heard.
He turned his face upwards and saw that the clockwork device had gone. Instead, there was a pool of blood on the table, spilling from his...spaghetti meatballs! The device was a pacemaker, something to keep him alive, for a few moments. The pain in his chest that he had just felt, was the ripping out of his...heart! He wailed...
A dark laughter rang through the air. It was him, it had to be him. This devil was enjoying it. It was like a meal to him. He delighted in Adam's horror. He was mad, insane!
"Here... let me put your meat into... slightly smaller portions..." another bolt of laughter crackled lightly. He heard a knife slicing through some meat and gushes of liquid spilling out after each slice. He could imagine his heart being sliced into edible portions as his vision started to fail him.
"Here, eat your heart out...silently...no need for words. They only make things worse."
A final click of the kitchen door, and that was the end of Adam. Death had come for him, as it it, as it ever will be, with all its misery, and all its mortifying reality.
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