Beneath the cool, moonlit Texas sky, Aiden’s skin was slick with sweat. Spring nights were fresh and calm, but he couldn’t enjoy them tonight. He had other things on his mind; not the green leaves, flower buds, or the upcoming Easter resurrection. Aiden’s tongue dragged across his lips, tasting salt and something darker. The hum of distant cars, the bark of a faraway dog, and the crunch of twigs under his shoes all seemed amplified. The velvet sky pressed in around him; alive, heavy, and aware.

In the shadows of the rustling trees, Aiden hid, as he watched and waited for someone in the church parking lot. It was nearly empty. One man lingered by his car, oblivious to the dangers nearby. Careless man. Foolish. Aiden laughed at the thought. Tonight promised to be simple.

As was his habit, Aiden removed his shoes, tied them together, and threw them over his shoulder. He liked to keep the object of surprise in its basic form. He proceeded forward. In the dark, he crept across the concrete grid. Although parts of the tarmac were lit by two show box lights, Aiden was careful to slither within the umbra.

He hovered behind the man, unnoticed. Piece of cake. He took a moment to appreciate the simplicity of the evening’s game. Then, Aiden pounced on him. With his forearm wrapped around the man’s throat, Aiden pulled the man backward into the dark. The man let out a gruff cry as he wriggled against his attacker. As Aiden tried to get his special corkscrew ready to stab his victim’s head, the man hit him hard in the ribs with his elbow. The action knocked the air out of Aiden’s lungs, and before he could inhale, the man threw his head back into Aiden’s chin. Aiden released the man and clapped his hands over his face in pain.

He was used to his victims retaliating, but this wasn’t a frightened, uncoordinated rebuttal as usual. He prepared and executed it masterfully. It disoriented Aiden long enough for the man to point his own weapon at him. A corkscrew with a golden handle. Aiden shifted his weight, tried to steady himself, looked firm, and prepared to fight. The man mirrored the pose, crouching to counter. They both studied each other. Aiden was close enough to glance over the contents of the man’s trunk. Inside, the man neatly arranged rope, zip ties, trash bags, and several knives.

Aiden’s eyes focused on the man. He was shorter, of average weight, with dark eyes, and dressed in all black. Aiden felt the color drain from his face.

“You hunt people, too?” he inquired of the man.

The man’s eyes snapped wide, a flicker of shock crossed his face as he recoiled.

“Yes,” he croaked.

“Oh my God,” Aiden blurted.

“Oh, my God,” the man echoed. “Are you… Pikachew22425?”

Aiden squinted, jaw clenched. “Personallyvictimzedbyreginageorge789?”

The man ran a hand through his thinning hair and shifted his weight. “How does this happen?” he grumbled.

Aiden groaned, shoulders rising in frustration. “I don’t know! Anyway, this is my turf, man.”

The tension mingled with something almost ridiculous. Even as the absurdity of their usernames hovered in the air, the danger between them coiled.

“What do you mean, turf? What difference does it make where you do it, dude?” the man countered.

“The difference is I wasn’t looking for a washed-up, balding, middle-aged man on Hinge,” Aiden growled.

“I’m not balding, I’m just trying a new style,” the man argued.

“You said you had hair,” Aiden cried.

“You should have noticed before you attacked me, creep,” the man spat.

“Ugh! I can’t believe this,” Aiden rubbed his temples.

The men, having dropped their weapons, paced frantically, their rhythms mismatched.

For nearly five years, Aiden performed this task flawlessly. He prowled, he preyed, he attacked, and moseyed along. It was a terrible itch he needed to scratch, and when he did, life seemed to get better for him. Not that the blood on his hands gave him confidence. If anything, he wore it like a grim little badge for his “contribution” to the overpopulation problem. At least, that’s what he told himself when he lay awake at night remembering all of those horrible, terror-filled faces he buried.

Meeting his own kind complicated his routine. Even worse, it felt as though he was exposed. His secret known left him defenseless. Of course, he could just follow through with killing the guy. He had spent all that time on the dating app to lure him out and succeeded. Yet, within similar professions, a tacit “no killing” rule exists openly.

“You’re debating on taking me out, huh?” the man said.

Aiden rolled his eyes.

“My name is Marc, by the way,” the man offered, introducing himself. “With a C.”

Aiden huffed, “Marc with a C? Oh my God, as if ruining my night wasn’t bad enough.”

“Well, I’m not stoked about you,” Marc snapped. “You were supposed to be a woman.”

“Are you that easy to trick?” Aiden scoffed.

“Not that easy,” Marc returned.

“Oh, please,” Aiden laughed. “That cheap rope does nothing, and those dollar store trash bags are easy to tear. At the very least, fund yourself once in a while,” Aiden judged.

“Hey, I do my best,” Marc argued. “Back off.”

Aiden raised a brow—something about the guy didn’t sit right, almost goofy. He let it go. Silence settled. His gaze flicked to the corkscrew in Marc’s hand, curiosity slipped from his guard for a beat.

“So,” Aiden cleared his throat. “Your corkscrew. Tool store?”

“Grocery. You?” Marc asked.

“Liquor store,” Aiden replied.

“Oh, nice,” Marc noted.

That was a mistake. The air between them changed. It felt natural and uncomplicated. Like a magician spilling tricks: bad karma. Aiden didn’t want to linger. He wasn’t looking for allies.

“Alright, well, bye,” Aiden turned on his heel.

Marc only blinked and studied him as he left.

“Okay, see ya,” Marc waved.

“Hope not!” Aiden replied as he retreated across the parking lot and back into the shadows.

Once they parted, Aiden switched up his usual turf, keeping a low profile and a bruised ego. But two weeks later, he sauntered along an abandoned downtown sidewalk. A blonde-haired woman had caught his eye, and he followed her down the lonely road. It was a classic move. Aiden enjoyed following in the footsteps of history’s worst, sometimes. The woman slipped into a dark, narrow alley between two small shops. Perfect. Aiden would rush her, giving her no chance to scream and make the kill even faster. As he pulled at her hair, it slipped off, revealing a balding head. Shocked, Aiden allowed the victim to break free. Their eyes met beneath a single ray of security light.

“Marc?” Aiden cried.

“Watha-what are you stalking me?” Marc scoffed.

“Why are you wearing a wig?” Aiden threw the fake mop down in fury.

“None of your business!” Marc crossed his arms.

“Of all locations, you chose this one as well?” Aiden argued.

“I’m making a turf,” Marc confessed.

“Ugh. You are so aggravating,” Aiden groaned. “My month has never started this poorly, thanks to you!”

“Well, I’ve only gotten two this year,” Marc argued.

“Only two?” Aiden scoffed. “What are you, some kind of noob?”

Marc paused, silent, like a scolded child caught red-handed.

“Yes,” Marc confessed.

Aiden was baffled. Of course, that’s why they kept running into one another. The guy was an amateur, and a dimwitted one.

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Aiden turned on his heel.

“Hey, we might end up getting each other one of these days,” Marc called after him.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Aiden sneered.

A rookie outplayed him. A glance back revealed Marc’s smirk, full of quiet amusement.

“I’ll get you first for sure,” Marc grinned.

Aiden scowled, “We’ll see.”

Slipping into his regular hideout, Aiden waited for his next opening.

After that, it was either fate or bad luck that had them on a permanent collision course. As April bloomed, they found each other instead of their marks. Each encounter lasted longer than the one before. Twice at the city park, both moved on separate trails, each prepared to strike. Recognition came slamming in just short of violence, which left Aiden simmering in anger and Marc bemused. Third contact made at a retail plaza parking lot only increased the chaos. Doors slammed, footsteps rushed, and for a split second there was no hesitation at all until realization hit. The suspense lingered, sharp and volatile.

Although the police station didn’t serve as an intentional show the fourth time. Seasoned serial killers routinely passed through interrogation, cleared as non-suspects. Marc occupied a chair by the wall as Aiden emerged from an interrogation room that morning. They made eye contact in passing. Marc smirked and mouthed, “I’ll get you.” Aiden bit back the urge to lunge, his usual finesse tripped up by Marc’s interference.

Of course, another hit went sideways. Tires screeched and horns blared as both cars converged on the same victim down a dark, empty road. The victim made their escape as engines snarled in confused sync. Smoke drifted as the assassins remained amongst their ruined scene. True to form, rookie Marc’s luck struck: a flat tire. With a bitter sigh, he muttered, “A ride?” and settled into Aiden’s passenger seat. After all their involuntary meetups, saying no felt pointless to Aiden. They drove in silence as they crossed a causeway.

“Hey, check this out,” Marc said.

Aiden’s gaze drifted from the road to the glint of a golden corkscrew.

“Got it at that new shopping center in town,” Marc gloated. “Forty percent off sale.”

Aiden let out a sigh. “Sales are nice.”

As much as he hated to admit it, being with Marc was… natural. It got harder to hate their weird synchronicity. In fact, Aiden couldn’t deny that they had the same itch and scratched it in the same way. It provided a twisted comfort.

“Wanna see it?” Marc asked.

Aiden consented, though he wasn’t keen on it. The corkscrew missed Aiden’s fingertips and landed at his feet.

“Oh, shoot, I got it,” Marc said.

“Wait, no, don’t,” Aiden warned.

By then, Marc was leaning over the console. He shoved Aiden’s legs aside as he reached for it. The car shuddered with each movement.

Aiden’s grip tightened on the wheel as he tried to push Marc back. One wrong move, and the car could lurch into the guardrails. His foot hovered over the gas pedal.

“There! Nearly got it,” Marc said, stretching as far as possible.

“Hold on. It’s under the gas pedal,” Aiden cried.

As he struggled to keep the car steady, he reached for it.

Both lunged for the corkscrew. Hands slammed together. Fingers tangled, knuckles scraping as it slid deeper into the foot-well. In that moment, Aiden’s foot slipped off the accelerator.

The car swerved. Tires screeched against the asphalt. Exhaust and burnt rubber filled the air. Aiden clawed at the wheel, fighting to control it, while Marc slammed back into his seat and braced himself. The world tilted too fast.

Metal screamed and glass shattered as the front end slammed into the barrier. The rest forced its way over the bridge’s side.

Screams tore out as the ocean surged into view beneath their feet.

Time stalled after the crash. Water surged in. Trapped under airbags, Aiden’s eye bled, Marc spat blood, and their battered bodies left them nothing but a shared, pained glance.

“Hey,” Marc panted.

“What?” Aiden replied through gritted teeth.

“I got you first,” Marc smirked.

Aiden’s nose wrinkled, and his lips curled in a grimace of pure disgust.

“Oh, my God!” he groaned, choking as the icy water surged up to his throat.

They slipped beneath the dark water together, one final encore on a spring night.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero