Ice

Chapter 1 New York, USA April 8, 2033 / 6:56 a.m. local time Miriam Did the Ripper kill again? New York, April 08, 2033 Again, a murder case was reported, which fits the criteria of the notorious New York Ripper. The victim (63) was a former high-ranking employee of the FBI. His son (38) found the body last night around 10:00 pm in the victim's penthouse. After his father had not responded to calls for two days, the son had set out from New Jersey to check on his retired father. He found the victim in the bathtub, his throat cut. As with other victims before, there were no DNA traces on the scene and the letter T was written on the victim's forehead with his own blood. This would be the Ripper's sixth victim in only four months. So far, the FBI has not been able to find any similarities between the victims that might help to conclude on the offender or his motive. Nobody knows when the Ripper will kill again and who will be the next victim. HotNews, Miriam McDonald I set the newspaper aside and reached for my coffee. He had struck again! It would be a huge breakthrough for my career if I could find the killer. Major papers would ask me to work for them. Maybe I would even get an offer from the Times. Allegedly the FBI had no clues so far as to the Ripper’s identity or what his motives were, but I was already one step ahead of them. I was on the trail of something big, of that I was sure. There was indeed something, the victims had in common, which evidently escaped the FBI. All six victims had attended the same press conference in Washington ten years ago when the Alien Breeds had been freed. I was pretty sure the story with these hybrids of alien and human DNA had something to do with the murders. All six victims had been sitting together in the same row at the conference, and with them four more men and women. I would take every bet that the next victim would be one of the four people. The only questions were, who, when and why? I glanced at my watch. It was only past ten and I had an appointment with Viktor Romanov, a plastic surgeon and one of the four remaining potential victims. I took another sip of my now cold coffee and jumped up from the chair. After putting my phone, purse and keys in my bag, I left my apartment to get on my way. ICE I leaned back on the park bench and looked up at the building. There! On the sixteenth floor was the doctor’s office of Dr. Romanov. He was in his late fifties, short and stocky. He smoked and drank too much. He also had a little, kinky secret. Every second Friday he visited a small domina studio and paid good money to be tormented by Madam Juliette. For a few dollars extra cash, Madam Juliette had let me watch from an adjoining room as Romanov got his treatment. I felt nothing but disgust for that fat, sweaty man who had been whining and pleading at the feet of his mistress. What kind of man did that? That went beyond my understanding. Killing the man really wouldn’t be a loss to this world. Not that I would have felt any sense of remorse otherwise. I had no feelings! That's why I got my name: Ice! I was cold! Emotionless! There was no cruelty or s******c need in me. I didn’t enjoy killing my victims. No! But I just wasn’t capable of feeling any pity for the people I had to terminate. When I had an assignment, I fulfilled it. It was that simple. I had been trained for this. From an early age my body had been trained, my mind drilled. When I did my job, I got my reward. Then X would send a call girl to my room. That was the only moment I felt something. When I lay in the arms of a woman. Nevertheless, X never sent the same woman twice. He said that I would otherwise get emotionally attached. X didn’t want that. My gaze fell on a woman approaching the entrance to the McArthur Building. She had reddish brown curls that fell in gentle waves over her shoulders. She was small, but she had an aura of strength around her. Her gait was determined. Self-confident. The knee-length skirt revealed slim but well shaped legs. She wore black high heels and to my surprise I felt my c**k twitch. This was unusual because normally the call girls needed a while to get me in the mood. Nonetheless, something about the woman who was talking to the doorman of the McArthur Building caught my interest. I shoved my sunglasses up to see her better. The doorman smiled at her and for some reason I didn’t like it. I felt something in my gut that was unfamiliar to me. I slipped the sunglasses back into place and shook my head. What was wrong with me today? X would punish me if he found out about my unwanted emotions. Of course I wouldn’t tell him, but sometimes he asked me and if that was the case, then I was doomed. Before each of these interviews I was given a remedy that prevented me from lying. Whether I wished to or not, I had to tell everything. I had not been interviewed for a long time, and I hoped that it would stay that way for a while. At my last punishment, I had been tortured for four days. It takes a long time for me to feel pain, but when I did, it was unbearable. The last time nearly stole my sanity. It took me two weeks to recover, even though they had given me drugs that would speed up my healing. The girl with the reddish brown hair disappeared inside the building and I wondered, what was her business there. I rose from my observation post and strolled towards the entrance. "What can I help you with, sir?" The doorman asked. His expression seemed professionally impenetrable, but I saw the fear in his eyes. I was used to the fact that my unusual sight caused fear among the humans. Even now, with dark sunglasses hiding my eyes. Apart from my white skin and the fact that I didn’t have any hair on my body, my eyes were the things that repelled people the most. The iris was pale blue, red at the outer rim and my pupils were also red. They were the eyes of an albino. "The young woman," I began calmly. "Is she working here?" "Unfortunately, I can not give you any information," the doorman replied nervously. I pushed my sunglasses up and looked directly at the man. His eyes widened with horror and the professional mask fell, giving way to a startled expression. "I do not like being violent if it can be avoided, but I have no problem with it. Is that clear?" The man nodded hastily. "Good! Let me ask again. Is the woman working here?" "N-no. She ... she has an appointment here." "With whom?" "M-mister Ro-Romanov." That was interesting, indeed. I would just have to keep an eye on her. Miriam My interview with Romanov did not really get me any further. He was very careful and clever. A few times I'd secretly tried to steer the subject in the right direction without revealing what I suspected and what I knew, but he seemed to guess what I was really talking about and he always avoided answering me. I could tell from his little gray eyes that he mistrusted me and made calculations as to whether I could be dangerous to him. Romanov was clearly not a man to have as an enemy. I had to be more careful in the future with my questions. It was time to ask a good friend of mine for a small favor. I stepped out of the building and smiled at the friendly doorman. Strangely enough, he didn’t return my smile this time, but quickly looked away. He seemed nervous to me. I wondered what or who was responsible for the sudden change. Yes, clearly something happened here. My instincts never betrayed me. When people started getting nervous, then I was on to something. Ignoring the doorman, I crossed the forecourt. My eyes fell on a man who stood casually leaning against a wall and looked over at me. Something about the man disturbed me and it was not his unusual appearance alone. It was obvious he was watching me for a reason. Was he the killer? Or was he in contact with the killer? He wasn’t one of the four possible victims. Maybe he was just one of Romanov’s bloodhounds. I refused to show fear and stared boldly at the man's pale face. His features were harshly cut. He had a sensual mouth, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. Dark glasses unfortunately covered the eyes. His head was bald and he had several scars on the sides that went to the back of his head and probably went on there. He was built like a wrestling star. I estimated him at least six feet ten. He had a thick neck, broad shoulders, massive arms, and also the rest of his body seemed to be just muscle upon muscle. From his looks, I would guess him to be Romanov's bloodhound. Apart from the fact that he seemed to be an albino, he was quite the typical thug. I was notorious for acting without thinking, and today I made no exception. I walked straight up to the man who could kill me with one hand while lightening a cigarette with the other, and stood in front of him. I had to put my head back to look up at him. He was actually more than intimidating. Nevertheless, I had already gone too far and would not back down now. His emotionless mask seemed a little shaken by my boldness, and a touch of astonishment showed on his features. Obviously he had not expected me to be so stupid as to approach him. "Tell Romanov, I'm not so easily intimidated!" I said and turned on my heel to walk over to the parking lot. My legs trembled slightly, but I made my way to my Fiat without tripping. The whole time I felt the eyes of the sinister albino man in my back. Only when I was behind the wheel of my car, did I allow myself to tremble. My heart was racing madly. Had I really just challenged this giant? I must have totally lost my mind. At some point, my impulsiveness would get me killed. ICE Confused, I looked after the woman until she disappeared from my view. Something like that had never happened to me. This little woman had guts, I had to give her that. How she had stood in front of me, talking to me so boldly, like she gave a damn that she only went up to my chest and three of her could hide behind my back. The most amazing thing was, that I had been so paralyzed by her that I just stood there like an i***t, staring at her damn kissable lips. Who was she? What was her business with Romanov? Was she his lover? I didn’t like that idea. Instead, I imagined what it would be like to peel off her clothes and explore every inch of her delectable body with my hands and lips. An uncomfortable tight feeling in my pants reminded me that I had actually gotten hard. Damn it! This little woman had a strange effect on me. Something seemed to be wrong with me. I was created and trained to feel nothing. I was a tool. X had told me when I was still a kid that I wasn’t human. I was created to help eliminate the evil of this world. Guys like Romanov. They were sentenced to die and I was the executioner. Emotions were a hindrance in this important job. They were out of place. I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head hastily. s**t! Romanov's limousine drove out of the garage and I almost missed it because I had fantasized over this little woman. That was enough proof of how damaging feelings were for my work. Slowly, I opened the box of the alarm system. With a steady hand I set about disabling the mechanism. I was very familiar with this particular design and could turn off the alarm without the guards on the monitors noticing anything. For them everything looked normal, as if the alarm was still active. After I had done that, I left the room and went to the elevator. I had manipulated some of the cameras to show old footage in a loop instead of revealing my presence. I had only left this one camera in the parking garage untouched, which I just dodged, as it was focused on a clock and the guards would notice if the clock would suddenly show something other than the current time. I pushed the button next to the elevator and waited patiently. When the doors opened, I stepped inside and pushed the button for the penthouse where Romanov lived. I knew that two guards would be standing close to the elevator, and I was prepared to take them out immediately.