Nightingale (2012)
Genre: Mystery, Epic Tragedy, AU
Rating: pg-13 for accusations, cursing, stalkers(?) and weird occurrences
Word Count: ~3,800+
Summary: Bomi Evans, (A.K.A. ‘Bea’), is a troublemaker in high school (or so they call her); however, the authorities have finally convinced her legal guardian, Aunt Karen, to send her to Bast Academy--a notorious as well as unknown private school in the middle of nowhere--all because of a false claim.

A/N: To clear up any confusion, this chapter goes off into what was occurring in the Prelude +plus beginning of the previous chapter.

About the poster: I had a scary image for the clown, but my friend is coulrophobic and I figured that perhaps some of my readers may have a fear of circus clowns also. So, The Nightmare Before Christmas outruled psycho clown. Yay. Cookies to those that catch the L (DeathNote) reference and popular song lyrics/titles. Ironically, an Infinite member makes an appearance also (not Myungsoo/L! ) You all can thank @kekeIfarted(AFF) for that^^;;;

 Chapter II

Preparing for a long walk on the coldest day of December thus far--which still doesn’t accumulate any snow--she hooked her thumbs on her pockets. It’s about time to scratch three teenage girls off her hit list. They have been on there long enough and she isn’t about to write a new list any time soon if it becomes too long.

Gameon.

Bea propped her hood as she walked, anticipating the plot forming in her head. The person beside her had to power-walk in order to keep up and to no extent did that make him happy--nor her for his presence--but it’s too late to back out now. He was doing this as a favour to Suzy after all. Yes, Suzy [of all people] had connections to the homes of the -squad. She knew one of the seniors babysat for her friends’ younger brother, (‘He’s just my friend.’ Suzy defended with a flush, then threatened not to give him a call if Bea didn’t stop picking on her).

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope.” She chirped, smiling stupidly at people in thick coats.

 The December air is chilly and crisp, she picked an especially windy night. Frosty wind is a good coverup for people who don’t want to go out in their pajamas, not even dogs can stand squatting for bowel movements. Gross. Bea side-looked her partner in crime, Sungjong--who, when they met earlier, she had to look twice at ‘cause of his much-too-thin and androgynous frame. She wouldn’t be surprised if he crossdressed as a student at their school--he wore a thick sandy scarf covering half his face with a matching beanie; puffs of air floated out of the woven fabric.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can go on my own.” She excused him for the third time in the past half hour.

He shook his head, eyes squinting against the wind. “They annoy me too. Always pinching my cheeks and calling me cute just because they’re old.”

A year difference is hardly old, she wanted to say but thought better of it as she herself is a year younger than him. He probably thought of her as a child. “So, you know them?”

“Not by choice. But yeah, long story. My mum always makes me to walk them home, so yeah. I could walk to their houses blindfolded.”

“Good to know.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Soo Ji,” Of course he would use Suzy’s real name. Yeah, there’s something going on between them. She can sense it. “She said they’ve been terrorizing your school. We go left here.” They crossed the street, Sungjong stopped at the corner. “Third house.”

Bea nodded. “Be right back.”

Thanks to his leading directions--he insisted on showing her rather than just writing them down--she nearly skipped down the block with the spraycan tucked away in her sweatshirt. She didn’t, skip that is. That would ruin the tough exterior she built.

First target is the noob.

First floor and window open. Tsk, tsk.

Sungjong didn’t ask what she did, a promising attribute for future favours.

They headed off to the next house in the opposite direction where soldier number two lived, the babysitter. This one roomed on the second floor, but the obvious escape trellis under her window proved to be useful--and well underused. She found the window unlock and the veteran washing up for bed. She wasted no more than two minutes there.

“Jealously.” Bea said when she returned.

“Huh?”

“They’re intimidated. Like in the animal kingdom, alpha males chase out competitors. They like control.”

“Oh.”

Best for last, the Leader, A.K.A. No.1 . Now that’s a promising nickname.

“Here it is. I’m not sure what apartment, but she’s invited me to the third floor plenty of times.”

“It’s cool. Thanks a lot. I’ll put in a good for you with Suzy.”

“T-thanks. Goodbye and good luck.” The top of Sungjong’s cheeks went redder than what they were already with the cold and they parted there.

“Don’t need it.” Bea held back till his figure was out of sight.

It would have never occurred to her for the head warden to board in a compact hostel in the less-than-pretty side of town. Goes to show how far stereotyping and first impressions go. With Sungjong safely out of the way she began her search. If anyone were to ask why she was climbing up the fire-steps at the side of the building, the excuse would be pretending to be a locked-out tenant. She quickly peeked into windows of the third floor, almost groaning at how oblivious people could be.

A thin fabric covers the window with a small gap at pane. Through it she saw the oblivious leader wearing obnoxious star-graphic headphones and was somehow bobbing her head while painting her toenails. Bea shifted away from the gap, pulled a daunting mask over her face from under her hood and hauntingly tapped on the window. It took longer than she wanted, and extra loud knocking for the girl to investigate the noise and pulled aside her curtain. She screamed like a banshee and Bea darted faster than anyone could catch her, ridding herself of evident proof in a restaurants ally trash (it’ll be gone by morning. Predictable waste collectors on schedules and all).

She started to flow only when everything became a blur. Citizens she dashed by made surprised sounds of annoyance, horns honked--she might have run across an intersection at the wrong time--and the sound of her breathing filled her ears like she was underwater. Everything just...vanished. Something kept telling her to move, to run until her life was a marathon. It’s a wonderful feeling, running with the wind. It makes a person feel nearly invincible.

So Bea ran. And ran with a smile stretched across her face so wide that it resembled an amused clown.

She ran till her surroundings were no longer unfamiliar and the GS25 landmarked her neighbourhood. She stopped under the dim lamppost in front of the convenience store, a hand to her chest and breathing heavily, her body pumping blood to match the rate of her heart. Bea looked behind her to the automatic doors, water would be a lovely supplement at the moment but she opted for her body to hold out longer, though this is the first time she’s ran such a distance without directions. GoogleMaps has nothing on her internal GPS and vivid memory.

Pleased with herself she began to walk again, this time keeping a slow pace till it turned normal, (Karen might think something is off if she’s all flustered; not that her aunt was even awake at this hour but as a precaution just in case). She ginned stupidly thinking about what she did and letting her feet walk on autopilot. Her senses wandered; greasy late-night fast food, a group of thugs huddled, the pebble she just stepped on, an echo--her hype turned short lived.

A pattern of footsteps matching hers ricocheted in her ears. It’s not paranoia, Bea doesn’t get scared, and someone is following her. The steps are light, too quiet to be Sungjong or anyone else she knew. The person behind her possessed a stealthy walk that almost matched hers, like they practiced the way she walked and mimicked the timing just about perfectly. But she could hear it, the slight millisecond that their feet hit the ground after hers. Their legs must be longer or they were doing this on wing.

She stopped at the crosswalk and listened. The steps behind her ceased then resumed when she walked across the street and sped up when she started to jog. Agitation grew inside her gut.

Instead of avidly avoiding a stalker by going into a crowded area, she came to an abrupt halt and whipped around, narrowing her eyes on the tall figure standing near the wooden telephone pole. He was obviously pretending to be interested in the ‘Lost Dog’ poster.

“Quit following me.”

He leaned into the poster as if a missing black and tan dapple dachshund was so out of the ordinary that he needed to feel for himself that it was real. She tried again, this time changing her statement into a question. The stranger peaks curiosity from her impulsive nature.

“Are you following me?”

It took a moment for his response to come, though it was barely audible. “…Yes.”

“Got a good reason stalker-man?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what it is.” It’s not a request. She analysed what she could. His steps had been well-balanced, a suited man would make more sense, not a young man with rubio hair sticking out of a Bowler hat.

Shadows contoured most of his face as he viewed her from his profile, eye flashing brilliant aqua. “You are one that I must keep an eye on.”

“Yeah? Keep both eyes on me. Watch this.”

A retro pickup truck made a wide turn at the corner. Without hesitation she darted toward it, daringly jumped on the bumper and let herself fold into the confines of the open