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Keyboard Killer (Chapter Six)

An interactive/reality game of life or death.


 Chapter six


(Present day.)


Tom logged out and closed the lid of his laptop, just as his girlfriend walked through the door.

"Did you get my 3 D prints, the structural planning is tomorrow," said Jane as she put down her bag and car keys, dashing straight upstairs. Jane an architect for west tech construction, was working on the structural design of a new shopping complex to be built in Stanford city.

Tom had been in relations for the last year now. He met her at an art exhibition, a piece of work she liked at the gallery, he paid for as a gift, leading to a coffee, the rest was history.

He had explained to Jane, that he had won a considerably large amount on the state 'Whiz ball lottery.' But in reality he was just an old school hacker and it was C.F.L. that was funding his lavish lifestyle.

"Yeah, They're in your study, How was your day," he shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

"Stressful," replied Jane, with emphasis on her locution.

"Okay, then," said Tom sarcastically, his attempt to make conversation was thwarted.

It was Jane's blueprint presentation in an hour, so she had to change. His, conversation was put on the back burner.


"ON." Said Tom. 

The holographic T.V. above the fireplace illuminated into view.  Local news streamed on channel 30. 

Setting up two mugs in the kitchen, he prepared coffee for himself and Jane.

'Still no leads on the recent spate of  the High Tech murders, in and around Stanford city.   'Frederick Stevens 46',  is the latest victim to fall foul of what people are calling, organized killings. 

The images you are about to see are graphic, please be advised.'


The T.V. showed pictures of an alleyway, a body lay against a construction skip. A burnt skull showed tell tale signs of a pulse sword strike. He stopped stirring the coffee and stared at the T.V.  He knew right away from the other half of his skull that still remained, that it was receiver 22.

"Off," said Tom, the T.V. vanished.

"Could you zip this for me babe," Jane came bouncing down the stairs, her hands fiddling with the clasp on her earrings.

"Sure," said Tom, as he slowly pulled together the back of her dress and pulled up the zipper.

"Are you sure you don't want to come," questioned Jane.

"No I'm Fine, baby, I got a little writing to catch up on and besides, I won't fit in with all the big wigs at the show. I'll be with you tomorrow, giving my full support with the presentation of your prints," replied Tom as he reached the top of the dress. 

He turned Jane around and kissed her lips gently. They looked into each others eyes for a second, before Jane dashed off again.

"Could you make that coffee to go Babe," she said, as she slipped on her shoes at the front door.

"Sure," he smiled, Jane's lust for life, always intrigued him.

He passed her the coffee in a thermos, she slipped on a jacket from the coat rack next to the door, over her black dress.

"I should be back in a couple of hours, wish me luck," said Jane as she took the thermos from Tom, she kissed him on the cheek and headed back to her car.

"You don't need it," he replied, watching her from the door.

Jane smiled and started up the Ferrari.


Tom Watched as she left Barbeck Cresent, a quiet suburb, where they lived.

He closed the front door and returned to his laptop. He needed to keep up to date with the emails from C.F.L. According to them, the Henson family were off on a European camping holiday for a couple of months, a little break after the elimination of receiver 27.


27 had turned the car around back to the beach house and cleaned the murder evidence, he was little unnerved to find only two bodies there and was unsure why Kelly had not told C.F.L. of her parents double murder. Tom had to be on his guard from now on.

He would take a quick look at the C.F.L. receiver and giver software logs, before driving over to Blake's flat for a visit.

He typed in the password 'HENSON C.F.L.'

Accessing the C.F.L database. He waited as the information was loaded. He stared out of the window at the black Lamborghini parked in the driveway.

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