Hangman: by Nick Venom (best english books to read TXT) 📖

“Where is it?” Jane shouted.

“I don’t know!!” Jess shouted. The teachers ran down a school hallway, a chain whizzing past her head and slicing the air next to her. It then retracted into the swirling wind of darkness. Another chain extended, nicking Jess’s shirt and tearing a small hole, the size of a penny. Jess glanced over her shoulder as another chain extended into her left hand.

“Don’t stop!” Jane shouted while grabbing onto Jess. She dragged her forward. “We’re almost there!”

Jess wasn’t paying any attention to Jane or the situation as her mind filled with the images of her bleeding hand. The sound of her blood dripping onto the floor filled her mind. Drip, drip, drip. The blood pitter-pattered onto the floor. She snapped out of her daze after tripping and falling to the ground. She looked around, detecting a corner in front of her. Behind her, Jane collapsed to the floor as a chain poked its ugly head through her right leg. The tornado of darkness is down the hallway, closer to its end of the hallway, giving Jess enough time to double back and help Jane. She crouched down as she tried taking the chain out of Jane’s leg, but to no avail.

“Jess! Go now, leave me!” Jane shouted, tears streaming down her face.

“No!” Jess shouted. She attempted to take the chain out again, but no results. She looked up and noticed two eyes peeking at her from within the tornado. She froze in place.

“Leave!” Jane shouted. Jess didn’t respond, simply, staring at the eyes which hypnotized her. Jane punched Jess in her right arm, snapping her out of her frozen state. The tornado got closer and seemed to have slowed its pace.

“Run,” A rough voice muttered from within the darkness. It was then followed by a menacing laugh.

Jane started screaming, the chain slowly retracting. “Jane!” Jess shouted. Four chains appeared from within the darkness and pierced her. One hit her other leg, then her left arm, then her right, then her stomach. It retracted quickly and Jane was dragged into the tornado while letting out a high pitch scream. “Jane,” she whispered. The screams filled the air, but a sudden crack stopped it. The hallway then filled with silence as Jess looked on in horror as a liquid started gushing out from within the tornado. The liquid looked colorless in the darkness, but a sudden lightning flash revealed its true color. A blood-red. Jess shouted her lungs out, getting up and going past the corner. She looked behind her to notice the tornado following her closely. She yelped and pushed her limits, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. She got closer to the door and was close to it when she felt her neck burning. She grabbed at her neck and was met with a rough texture. She looked down and noticed that it was rope that clawed into her neck. She stopped running and tugged at the rope. It didn’t bulge and proceeded to cut her neck up more. She looked up and noticed that the door was extremely close to her. She fought against the piece of rope and struggled to walk to the door. She made it to the door and started twisting the doorknob, hoping that somebody would be outside waiting for her. She then lost consciousness and fell to the ground. Her body was dragged away and sliced into pieces. The hallway became empty and evidenceless as the darkness retracted itself and dispersed.

“Two women disappeared from Lokin High School after hours and have not been seen in over seventy-two hours. Police have sketched an image of the women, but no calls have been collected.” A male anchor announced. He turned towards his female colleague. “This is the seventh missing case that has popped up in two months. The police have issued a statement regarding the incident.” The female anchor motioned towards the green screen behind him. The green screen changed to show the police chief on a pedestal.

“Investigations on the string of disappearances that have plagued our town have started. The police force will work overtime to search for the missing people.” The police chief announced. His bigger figure limited his movement and overhead sun, which added to the sweat that collected on his eyebrows. After his words, a barrage of remarks was thrown at him, which he mostly ignored. “That is all I have to say,” he stated, walking off the stage to the astonishment of everybody in the audience.

“Where is she?” shouted one man.

“What will happen to our kids?” shouted a female.

“What happened to the kidnapped people!” Shouted another female. The police chief ignored these remarks and got back into his squad car. He drove away and headed to the police station.

He entered the police station and went to his office. Already waiting there for him was Detective J. Hankins. “May I ask you a question?” He asked, standing up from his chair.

The police chief started sweating profusely. “U-Uh, sure.”

The detective walked over to the police chief. “Why did you lie to the public? Even though you know who committed these acts?”

“I-I-I-I-I-I” The police chief stammered. “... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The detective revealed a file from under his fleece jacket. “Codename: Hangman, correct?”

“I-I u-uh, don’t-” His words were cut off by Hankins grabbing the chief and slamming him into the wall.

“Don’t lie to me or else I’ll leak this file!” Hankins shouted.

“No!” The chief shouted. Police officers at their desks raised their heads and stared at Hankins and the chief through the open door. “Don’t,”

“He used to be a simple man, but your wasteful toxic dumping changed him. You turned him into a monster!”Hankins shouted in his face.

The chief broke down, tears filling his vision. Hankins released his grip, allowing the chief to slump down to the ground. “I know, I know, I know.” He said with his voice slowly turning into a whisper.

“William Ben Ericson was his real name. Now he goes by Hangman. All because of you.” The detective spat on the chief. He turned towards the door and walked out of the police station and away from the curious and frightened eyes of the police officers. He walked outside and headed towards a black mustang that was parked in front of the station. He got into the car’s passenger seat and the driver slammed on the gas, swerving into traffic.

“What did you get?” The driver asked.

“Our target, codename: Hangman, whose real name is William Ben Ericson, is a victim of the toxic waste that was dumped into his village’s water source. The entire village was wiped out except for him. He dropped off the radar for a decade before reemerging as Hangman. Ericson must have developed some kind of supernatural power from the toxic waste.” Hankins remarked.

“Revenge, I’m assuming.” The driver, who was Hankin’s wife, Grace Strong, and fellow detective, pointed out. “Didn’t the president sign the bill that allowed the toxic waste to be dumped?” Strong asked. Hankins nodded, a lightbulb going off in his head.

“He’ll be a target.” Hankins laid his back on the seat. “If it’s for revenge then how do these missing cases connect to it? His latest was a couple of lesbian teachers who did nothing to him.”

“That’s the weird part, those teachers did nothing to deserve their fates, whatever it was.”

“It’s not like he’s against people with different sexualities than him. He’s killed mostly police officers and related people like mayors and the people who dumped the toxic waste as well as anybody else who controls the situation from behind the shadows.” Hankins said. Strong nodded.

“If only we could find out how to stop him,” Strong whispered. “If only we could stop this mess.”

A man wearing a tattered cloak and ripped jeans looked down at a convoy of cars passing below him from a three-story building. The man smirked as the convoy---comprised of three limousines, five squad cars, and four motorcycles--- passed by him and neared the end of the street. The formation was two motorcycles at the front and back of the convoy with three squad cars behind the motorcycles in the front and ahead of the motorcycles in the back. The three limousines stayed in the middle of the convoy. 

The front two motorcyclists didn’t notice a noose made out of thin string, near-invisible at the end of the street, or the tripwires that were on the side of the nooses. The motorcyclists made it to the end of the street and placed their heads in the right spots for the nooses. The nooses were big enough for their heads to fit through and thin enough for the targets to not feel their death looming around their necks. The man smirked as he wriggled his fingers, which controlled the nooses. He curled his fingers, bringing the string closer to him. The string tightened around the motorcyclists' heads and ripped them out of their bikes. Their bikes dropped to the ground and laid flat, the engine continuing to run. The motorcyclists were held in the air and gasped as they struggled to get out of the nooses. The man brought his hand closer to his chest and balled his fingers, breaking the necks of both motorcyclists. The squad cards behind the now-dead motorcyclists attempted to gas past the nooses but managed to find themselves caught in the tripwires. The tripwires ignited and an explosion tore through the squad cars. The squad cars from behind the limousines broke out of formation and headed towards the front of the pack followed by the motorcyclists. They didn’t notice a tripwire in front of them leading to the squad cars and the first limousine to be destroyed in the explosion. The remainder of the convoy---two limousines and two motorcyclists---attempted to reverse and escape through the other side of the street. The motorcyclists turned around and tried to swerve around oncoming traffic, but invisible nooses caught them by their necks. The man spared no time and brought his hands to his chest, breaking the motorcyclist's necks. The remaining vehicles, two limousines, stopped dead in their tracks. The doors open as people from the limousines attempted to scatter and escape through nearby alleyways. 

The man dropped off the building and landed on the fire escape. He went down the fire escape to the second floor before jumping off. He landed on the ground and dashed towards his targets. A total of nine men ditched the limousines and headed through the alleyways. Three men stayed behind to cover the man’s main target’s escape.

The man smirked as he stared down the three guards. He extended his arms for a hug while grabbing at loose string he left in the area before he ambushed the convoy. He grabbed the string which extended to the gutters of nearby buildings and wrapped around them. The string extended downward and wrapped up around the guards. The string tightened around the guards and started to squeeze them, forcing them to drop the guns. The man tightened the strings, slicing the guards into two pieces. The guards dropped to the ground, chopped in half. The man smirked as he ran past the bodies of the guards.

The remaining six people appeared on the other side of the alleyway and looked for a new vehicle to transfer the VIP to. The VIP, being the president of the nation, Alan Brooks looked around for the assassin. Behind him stood three of his guards with one guard in front and one guard on his left. He turned around and scanned the area. The guard in front of him stopped a hummer and talked to the driver. Brooks heard gagging coming from behind him. He turned around and noticed that the three guards who were behind him, were corpses hanging on a