After a very awkward car ride with a complete stranger, who never told me his name; I walk into the courthouse where I work. If I was vigilant and in my right mind, maybe I would have noticed the hundreds of news vans and press cars. However, I've had an interesting morning, and my thoughts were on a certain mysterious van owner. So, I definitely didn't expect to be bombarded by cameras and microphones, no one giving any information as to why they were there. The only thing I was able to notice, was that the tide of flashing lights were gravitating toward my boss's office. I couldn't even clock in until someone helped me through the mass.


After sliding through a crowd of people that seriously needed some deodorant; I walked into my boss' office to see a very angry Mr. Doranti.


"Ms. Horan," he begins quietly, silently swimming in his own anger, "I don't even want to know why you are two hours late to work, and don't you dare say car trouble because you have no idea how often I've heard that."


"Sir, you have no idea-" I try to begin my rehearsed speech about my morning from hell, but he cuts me off.


"I said I didn't want to hear it. We have another murder," this pulls me right out of my thoughts. Another one already? S***. "do you know who this is Rielle?"


He hands me a picture of a curly-haired, green-eyed, man who doesn't look very happy about posing for a mugshot. The file behind his initial picture is filled with DUI's, speeding tickets, among other things, none relating to any murder. The only thing worth reading about was an assault charge when he was eighteen, shortly after he disappeared into a life in the shadows.


"I honestly have no idea who this, Harry Styles, character is."


"Well you've been assigned to this case, so you better get to know him backwards, forwards, and sideways. We have a clue but its vague. You're the only person that might have a chance of figuring out what it's about."


"Thank you sir," I begin, it's been a while since I've had a worthwhile case.


"Don't thank me. this man is very dangerous and we're putting you in the line of fire. We think he has followers. Some sort of gang or cult like atmosphere. It's up to you to you to stop them from another mass killing spree. Rielle," he sighs, and I know this case is going to be a hard one to figure out, and worse, I might become attached to the victims. that's why he chose me, I tend to be distant when it comes to work; I have to be. "Rielle, they're killing children, and taking them hostage at times. there's been fourteen killings this weekend. Each week another mass killing erupts. You got to stop this Rielle."



"I will sir," with that I was out of his office and into the twinkling lights of the cameras. I honestly had no where to begin as this was a difficult case and the criminals were obviously professionals. Fourteen victims in two nights? That was unheard of, even for serial killers such as these.


It was a three minute walk from the main office building to the autopsy floor, since I opted for the stairs. (the elevators were blocked from the masses of news reporters that Mr. Doranti was trying to lead in the wrong direction.) There were some, however, that were smarter than they let on and followed me down the stairs until they got some sort of explanation for all the deaths; like I had any information to give. I lost them though, finally, by letting them believe that I was just getting my boss coffee. Of course they believed me, that was one of the reasons I became a law enforcement officer, I have one of those faces people believe.

After the longest three minute walk of my life, I finally reach room 231 which had all the victims in it. Once I walk in, tears threaten to overflow. They were all women or children, whoever did this was a ruthless killer, whose cause is obsolete. All the women and children, the children being 15 to 17, are very fit. Obviously beautiful without a second glance, none of them had husbands.


At first glance, the injuries seem completely different, some gunshots, some beating, some raping, some suffocation. The killers seemed to enjoy all the different possibilities of killing. Although i did notice something, all children were shot in the head, quick and killed instantly. In a twisted way, the killers showed some form of grace with the children; a painless death. If you were going to be merciful with them, why kill them at all? That was one of the questions that I had to answer.


Another question was the initials in the bruising. All in different places, of course, but a visible N, Z, or L were present on different women. The children were unclaimed, no one wanted to be the killer of them, I guess. Thats sick, I think. Before I can investigate further, i get a phone call from none other than Mr. Doranti.


"We have a lead," he exclaims.


"Really? What is it?"


"Styles was spotted near here, about two blocks away. We need you to investigate." already spotted, I didn't take Styles to be an idiot, there's got to be a catch.


"On my way sir." it didn't occur to me until after I hung up that i don't have a car. Guess I'm walking.


I start out the door, grateful for the little sprinkles of rain. I don't know why, but i love when it rains, like any second now I can spot a rainbow. I guess I live by that logic, live through the rain so you can reach the rainbow.


About two blocks into my walk it starts to downpour and I move under the overhang so I don't get drenched. Shortly after the downpour begins, I spot the alleyway where Styles was spotted last. I turn the corner with my hand on the trigger of my gun, but before I can take in my surroundings there is a gag shoved down my throat and I am hit in the head with... Something.

The world comes to a spinning halt just before it fades to black.

Harry's POV


Fourteen kills this weekend and last, and I am currently on a roll. It didn't start out that way, the fourteen kill streak, but I just can't stop. There's something about the heat in their blood, the way their voice cracks when they scream that makes me want to feel that power. The power to consume, the power to destroy.


I wasn't always a 'bad' person. Got average grades, talked to average people, and had average relationships. until I realized one day that I didn't want to be average anymore, I wanted to do something extraordinary. So I stole a sandwich from the deli I was working at one day. However, i knew that stealing goods from a deli wasn't extraordinary. So, that sandwich turned into cash, the cash turned into gold, then the gold turned into alcohol; and other illegal substances.


I was doing fine till seventeen, when I was arrested for a DUI. A DUI of all things. And as I spent a year in jail for all my smaller crimes, I realized that if I'm going to be caught, I'm going to go out with a bang.


It was easy to gain a silent following, a hidden understanding that bonded best mates for life, or at least until death. Finding followers wasn't the issue, some were like me, quiet and mysterious with countless enemies that had to be taught a lesson. Some were harder to convince, had to be shown that what I was planning, wasn't really a crime, but a revolution. A revolution of the extraordinary. One had to be downright blackmailed; but, in the end my four best mates were in this with me. And together we made the government's worst nightmare, One Direction.


The name wasn't that hard either, if there is life after death its pretty obvious that we're all going down. Down straight to hell. So get it? One direction? We're already going to the same place anyway so why not proclaim it. Of course, no one knows the name but us, and our victims.


Our latest doesn't know anything at all though, at least, not yet. Kind of a shame really, I was hoping they would bring someone stronger, the more they fight the more I'm interested. But of course they wouldn't do that. They would send the 'innocent' one, well not for long anyway. Liam, Zayn and I were just finishing a kill when she walked in. so naturally, we gagged her. For some reason we mutually understood that we didn't want to kill her, yet. It was just to rich to have law enforcement right at our fingertips. Right where we want them. She didn't fall into our hands so easily though, Liam failed to knock her gun away from her before she shot Zayn in the leg. That made her more interesting though, more willing to keep her around for a while; see how she screams.


I hit her in the head before she could see us, we're very good at hiding in the shadows. The hard part was getting her into our van. Sure there was space, but no body wanted to carry her. I stared in amazement at all of their horror-filled faces, "what," I asked, "haven't you ever seen a passed out government official before, now come on." I gesture to Liam but he stays put, as if gravity is keeping him glued to that specific spot, "Zayn?" I ask, but he shakes his head because he can't carry her with a shot leg. So that leaves me, as always, picking up the pieces, being the leader of a group that suddenly grew a conscious. Hopefully the others back at Base don't have the same problem. We get in the van, finally, and drive away; not before dismantling her phone, wouldn't want to be tracked back home.


The whole ride home is silent and awkward, which is weird because usually after an outing like this we turn into normal teenage boys, singing with the radio and dancing to the beat. When we finally reach the Base, which is about five minutes in the sticks, I immediately begin to carry the girl inside. Liam is to busy having guilt or whatever the hell is wrong with him at this point, Zayn is limping and using Liam as a shield. So that left me to deal with Niall's misplaced wrath. Even though he's as terrifying to me as a baby penguin.


"What the hell happened Harry," his Irish accent becoming stronger with every word. He tends to do that whenever he's drunk, or just upset to the core. I expect to see his eyes glazed a dilated but nope, he's completely sober. His anger makes no sense to me since I haven't eaten any of his food. trust me, even if your a gang leader, you never make that mistake twice. I still have scars.


"What does it look like? The hit was accomplished and she got in our way. You should thank me for not killing her on the spot."


"I would never thank you for this," he spat in my face. As much as that would boil me any other day, I'm just to tired to deal with a crazy leprechaun. I give him the girl, who doesn't have a drop of blood on her, and say, "Well, she's your problem now Ni. You deal with her then." He spits in my face one more time before turning on his heals and walking away with the girl, hanging bridal style in his arms.

Rielle's POV

I wake to a shack of a room with dim lighting. The walls smell of cedar but the room smells like sweat and metal, with only one window to bring in real light. The thick, makeshift shades are drawn so nothing outside can peer in; or viseversa. It is only now that I realize that I am untied and unbound. The same minute I realize, the five guns and the men behind them. They are all talking amongst themselves but I don't dare try to run. The curly-haired man I understand to be Harry, is pacing around the back of the large main room; mumbling underneath his breath something inccoherantly dirty. I only know his mumbles to be a dirty joke by the way his mate next to him reacts. His dark hair is quiffed to perfection, something unexpected by a gangmember. His chocolate eyes shine with Harry's words as he leans over to his fellow member beside him with blonde hair, I assume to tell the same joke. However, I can't see the blonde's reaction; because his face is so far to the ground that you would think it was a pot of gold, and he has a hat leaned towards his face just in case he happens to look up. I take a second to wonder what would drive a person to be so secretive about their appearance, but only a second, I'm ripped out of my thoughts by a gunshot. Right next to my head.

I reach for my holster, preparing to aim right for his skull, or his heart beneath his chest; only to find that the holster is gone and the gun is no where in sight. There are many curse words that come to mind that fit this situation perfectly, but none escape my lips. I will not let the bastard have the satisfaction of my fear or even discomfort, I will act like nothing's wrong, just another day as Rielle Horan. Instead of cursing or jumping from the chair and clawing his face, which wouldn't be that hard considering im not tied to anything; I simply state, "well hello to you too." Instead of a chuckle or another gunshot, he replies, "shut up," exactly like I expected him to. These criminals are all alike, both in their feeling and their actions.

"Your the one that brought me here," I say with a shrug, "you should've just killed me. Why didn't you? Planning something," I ask. If he answers this the way I think he will, I might be getting somewhere. Before I can evaluate Harry's reaction, a mumbled voice from inside the group says, "No, he shouldn't have," or at least thats what I think was said.

All heads turn towards the blonde in the back by the dark quiffed lad. The blonde puts his head down and begins staring at the floor again before i can register his voice. It definitely sounds familiar, but in a distant way; as if i've only heard it a couple times in my life, or on the tele. The men in the room stare at the blonde openly. if looks could kill, he'd certainly be dead already.

Soon their attention is once again on me, which is more comfortable than sitting on a broken chair with five known killers arguing with each other. Harry begins pacing around the room again, occasionally looking my way. As if proving to himself that I'm actually there, and although I'm free to move about, I don't. It frazzles him, a weakness I'm proud to detect.

I decide that if he isn't going to talk, than i will. "why did you bring me here? You need a new punching bag," I ask. Although its not actually a question, just an excuse for him to talk.

"listen, shut the f*** up b**** before I make you!" he exclaims. If I could, I would do a happy dance, because this is exactly where I wanted the conversation to go. I already had a reply, "Make me!" Suddenly my cheek is burning and I can't help but smile at the chaos that unfolds. Harry is being forced out of the room by the others and the blonde practically charged him; I still haven't gotten a good view of his face yet, but minute after minute, he seems to get more relaxed around me.

It took me a second to realize that my plan actually worked, all the men are out of the room, and I have time to search for clues. Silently, I leave the rickety old chair behind me and start at the desk at the back of the room. Harry always seemed to be guarding it before he slapped me. Before I can look through all the papers on the desk; a door slam kicks me back into reality. I back up before realizing I'm cornered and three angry men are leaning over me menacingly.

I only have a millisecond to wonder, where is the blonde?

Rielle's POV


I only have a millisecond to wonder, where is the blonde; before large fingers take a tough grip of my hair. I silently thank the lord almighty that my hair is so short, otherwise this would've hurt one thousand times worse than it already does. It doesn't seem to hinder him though, because soon my side is rammed into the damn chair.


Suddenly I am lifted up by a different pair of hands, and I look around to find the man with the buzz cut forcing me into the chair. Another pair of hands join the group, I assume them to be dark quiff's. They are holding me down tightly, keeping me from escaping. All the while, Harry is wrapping duct tape around me. Smiling menacingly while doing so. I try not to resist, wouldn't want to give him the time of day; but when a thick peace of duct tape covers my mouth, then another, and another. I begin to panic until my arms are pulled by the tape.


I try to scream but it comes out muffled. I scream again to be rewarded by a hard slap on the face from the Dark Quiff. I look at buzz cut, eyes pleading for help; he freezes. My right arm becomes of use to me and I shake violently, trying to free myself from Dark Quiff's grip.


"What the hell Liam?" Harry hisses, "Grab her," he screams.


"I just can't be a part of this," he starts toward the door, leaving me to struggle with Dark Quiff. Harry huffs and pulls out his handgun. I didn't even realize he had it until now. He aims it between my eyes, and I know I'm dead.
Suddenly the world becomes silent, stuck in motion. Harry with his gun pointed at me, a smirk playing on his not-so-innocent face. Dark Quiff practically laying on me, desperately trying to calm me down. The man with the buzz cut who I know now is Liam, is walking towards the door. Everything is silent; everything is frozen.


All my training suggests that I should fight for consciousness, but why should I? Just to witness the bullets flying? Just to live another second in complete pain?


No. I refuse to live through that, to let Harry and Dark Quiff win. So, with that as my final thought; I drift into a restless sleep.


They say that in the moments before it ends, your life flashes before your eyes. Well, its not really a flash per say. More of a replay, like I'm reliving all my most prized, and most grieved, moments of my life.
All I can see is my family the way it was in Mullingar, Ireland. Before my parents disappeared without a trace, leaving an eighteen year old and her kid brother to wrestle out life by themselves. Back when we were by the fireplace playing checkers; when my fifteen year old brother dreamed. He dreamed of singing and dancing; living a life that he deserved.


Before he killed himself two years later. Before my life turned to s***. I stopped the replay the day before he killed himself, not wanting to relive my worst days.


You see, if I had fought for consciousness, if I had been stronger; I would've seen hinges fly. I would've heard explosions and crashes, and most of all... I would've seen my brother rise from the dead.

Harry's POV


I seriously can't take anymore of this b****. Her attitude towards me is completely uncalled for. I mean, I told her to shut up, it's her fault If she didn't listen and needed to be taught a lesson. Besides, I've been nice! I didn't kill her when I had the chance; and when I could've tied her to the chair, I didn't. I even allowed Niall to take care of her when we first came back to the base; and this is how she repays me?


No. I can't allow that. If I allow her to question my leadership, others will follow. So, sorry boys; I should've killed her when I had the chance. Now I have another one.


My vision becomes clear as day; as it usually does in situations like these. A twisted sense of pride washes over me as I see a woman cowering I fear below me. She is trapped in a corner, no escape that she can see, and this fuels my fire. Her cheek is enflamed, my hands feel as though they are on fire. The force of the slap is evident among those around us, but no one says anything. She deserved it anyway.


I nod to Zayn, a silent conversation between our eyes beginning. He nods in return and her death is sealed. I take her by the hair and drag her across the room, throwing her in the chair. Zayn, who hobbled over to where our makeshift prison is with eyes full of revenge, pulls her into a sitting position. Liam is quick to follow suit.


She barely resists as I duct tape her still, only fighting when I reach her mouth. Ha. Finally silenced, b****. Well, that's what I thought before she screamed, loud. "Shut the f*** up, now." I hiss, pulling out my favorite gun, Darcy. I see the panic begin to swarm in her eyes; starting to writhe around in Zayn and Liam's arms. She is screaming despite the duct tape, coming out a muffle, I can still hear the heart-wrenching intensity of it; and I can't help but smile.


I start to pull the trigger back, agonizingly slow. She continues to writhe in their arms, and I notice Liam freezing up. Ripping free of his grasp, Zayn works double time to keep her in the chair. I look to Liam, "What the hell? Grab her Liam!" I demand. My smile disappears when he replies.



"I-I just can't be a part of this," and starts toward the door. The woman is squirming under Zayn's grip, desperate to be free. My smile is back, if Liam decides that he's on his own, then that's what will happen. Who the hell am I to stop him? Oh yeah, the fucking leader. The thought turns my smile into a menacing grin.


I am still holding the gun aimed at her head, when a curious thing happens. Suddenly I am on the ground fighting for my life. I don't even know who I'm fighting! I look around, desperately trying to get a punch in; to no avail. Finally, my fist connects with flesh and a curse rings through my ears.
Irish?
Irish.
Irish...
That little fucker.. That's when I realized the only way to get out of this situation alive: pretend.


My eyes flutter closed and the blonde leaves me on the ground. I sit there for a few moments, wondering when to get up; when I hear a voice.


"It's okay," Irish. "You're okay."


"My foot, oh my God, my foot!" Terror and pain seep through a woman's voice. It's only then that I remember Darcy's gunshot flying through the air the moment that Irish fucker knocked me over.


I can't even say his name.


He made me miss my target: miss! I've never missed in my entire life! What the hell happened to respect? I'm the fucking leader of fucking One Direction. What does that mean exactly, I implemented five rules here.


1) My word is law. (That has been broken at least three times today.)


2) Don't get shot. Don't get caught. (Zayn.)


3) Don't freeze, get the job done. (What the hell Liam!)


4) No Hostages. Ever. (I swear I'm going to kill that leprechaun.)


5) If absent, I will assume you're dead. (Where the hell is Louis?)


"You're okay," Irish speaks again. "Let me help you." By now, it should be okay to peek, I think as I open my eyes a crack.


The scene around makes me want to look away and throw up. All the boys are crowded around the woman, who happens to be out cold... like I should be right now. I close my eyes just as Liam looks my way, "He's still out cold," he says to Niall and the rest.


"Good," Irish states harshly. It takes everything in me to bite back exactly what Zayn replies. "How could you say that," he hisses at Irish and Liam, "He runs this joint, do you think you're going to get away with this now?" The last phrase is more of a whisper, as if realization is finally hitting them.


"We will," a new voice enters the group, and I don't have to reopen my eyes to know the sound of Louis' voice.


"Where the hell have you been Lou? I haven't seen you since this morning,"


"Hey, I'm glad I wasn't here for all this. What the hell happened," he asked, obviously avoiding Ireland's question. He laughs, hard. I sneak a peak at the room around me and see that he has wrapped her bullet wound, and she is still out cold. Irish's face is contorted in laughter as he says, "Tell you later mate. That is, if I'm alive later."


"You will be,"


"What makes you so sure Lou," Liam adds to the conversation.


"That's for me to know and for you to find out." then I do something really stupid; my foot slips, causing the hardwood floor to make a deafening squeak. All eyes turn to me, and its time to wake up. After arguing with myself for what seems like forever; but was probably only a couple of seconds, I decide to keep my acting face on. They don't need to know that I remember.


Two hands restrain mine behind my back as Louis helps me up. I really want to know where he was, but if I want my plan to work, I'm going to have to let that go. "What happened," I say tiredly, "Get your hands off me." I say more forcefully, more of my character.


Niall plays along with me, as he should. If he didn't he would be dead by now. "Just an accident," he lies to my face, "She shot herself in the foot. Not a good shooter, I guess," he says with a shrug.


It takes all of my pride to muster a lazy smile, "Could've guessed that, mate." He looks confused for a second, then quickly brushes it away as I walk out of the room, "I'm going to bed," reply to his expression. No one bothers to object. I'm not a threat anymore.


Shows how much they know... .












..And how much they don't...