Chronicles of Isodore

Who is this Isodore who writes her name on the walls, using the blood of her victims? Let me introduce you to Isodore.

*Isodore is one of my many OC's, as well as one of my personas.*

I'd like to improve this story before I publish, please help me with comments, ratings, and any advice on what you'd like more of! ~The Anarchist

Chapter 3

Justice for Riley

Hastily she got dressed, doing as much as possible to make herself invisible to the criminal justice system. Before getting dressed she brushed her hair and then brushed it again, pulling any loose hairs so that they wouldn't fall. She wore skin tight under-armor beneath her already form fitting clothes, you never knew where evidence would come from. She took out her earrings too, a lost earring might tip the scale. She washed her face an extra time to prevent loss of any eyelashes at the scene. She ended by strapping on her knife holster to the outside of her right leg for easy access, put on her gloves, and then a long gray coat. She looked herself over in the mirror before pinning her hair back into a sleek looking bun and dusting herself off once more.

That had taken 3.5 minutes. She always timed herself on speed and neatness to maximize advantage. The quarterback would most likely be at the football field right now, the lockers later, and then home. Where to do it, she wondered as she floated out the door. She'd take the first opportunity she got none the less.

She tromped down the apartment building stairs and out a fire exit to the street. The school was roughly ten blocks from her place, but taking the alleys as usual, she'd get there about 4 minutes faster.

She took off down her usual path, trying to be fast without exerting herself, she didn't want to have to catch her breath later. She put her sunglasses on to help mask herself without looking like she had something to hide, though her outfit called more attention than anything. She knew this, and it almost brought her joy to know she had her own way, her own style of killing people. She was above the normal killers of the world, she had a greater cause, she helped people, she prevented more harm. After all, few must be sacrificed at times to save many, she thought to herself.

Doing this made her proud, doing this made her strong, doing this somehow made her feel that she could transcend into someone, something, bolder, stronger, better. She could see the school now, and felt her heart start pounding a little harder. This would be easy. She never really knew if she thought it was fun to kill people or not, it brought her relief and joy, sure. But was it fun? Did it matter? She was going to do it anyway. Riley had said in her note that one of the doors was actually left unlocked a few hours after school because teachers would be there, as would band kids and sports players. She slipped around to the back, looking for this door. It was cleverly made to blend in, being behind another wall.

She turned the handle gently and slowly, feeling the tumblers inside move around. Just as planned, the door was unlocked. She slowly walked into the dark, empty auditorium, and sighed of relief seeing there was no theater practice for her to intrude upon. The door closed with an unsettling clank... then a quieter click after. She inched her way along the farthest wall even though it was dark and empty. The room had an eerie feel to it, and it was just slightly too cold to be comfortable. She reached the back doors that lead to the main entryway and peered through the glass in the door. Empty, and no cameras. The secretaries must have gone home already. Being as quick as possible, she slipped into the hallway and made her way to the gymnasium, where the boy's locker room was.

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