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Phil wasn’t where it all started, maybe at birth when his mother abandoned him and left for dead in a ditch. Maybe when another foster kid tried to hurt him, and he killed them in return. Maybe it was when Phil was drafted into the war and was praised for killing other men. Whatever the reason was, this was his life now, and he loved it. Phil loved the power high from holding the life of another in his hand. He loved the rush of adrenaline when he hid the evidence and when he watched the TV reports about his murders. He loved the look of fear and trepidation that painted the faces of those who heard his name.
Phil took a sip from his coffee, reading the newspaper as he did. The Angel of Death has struck again. B. B. Halo-26 male-died in his home Monday night, bringing the deaths under The Angel of Death up to 187. The serial killer has avoided the officials for ten years now, managing to keep his identity hidden. How much longer must this continue before he is finally stopped?
Phil scoffed. He has killed more than 187. Granted, he has only claimed 187. A black feather marked those victims, a sort of theatrics that amused him. Many had assumed the feather was symbolizing his beliefs and his values. They said he killed for God, as black feathers represented angelic or divine protection. Hence the name Angel of Death. In reality, he just found it exhilarating to kill.
Phil looked at his watch. He needed to go run some errands. After finishing his coffee, Phil left the shop. First, he needed to stop by the bookstore. He was trying to learn how to cook and needed a cookbook. However, he didn’t know what to look for. He pulled one from the shelf and stared at the cover.
“That one’s no good,” a woman said next to him. “The recipes are horrible.”
Phil looked down to the book in his hand and chuckled, “I’m gonna be honest, I have no clue what I’m looking for in a cookbook.”
“That’s alright, I can help you,” the woman laughed softly and smiled radiantly, and Phil was sure she could compete with the sun.
“That would be great!” Phil said, returning a soft smile.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you looking for a cookbook?” She asked, tilting her head.
Phil looked aside a little sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, “I’ve been living alone for some time now, and I just can’t figure out how to cook.”
“I know just the thing,” She immediately handed him a book and said that it had good, basic recipes. He followed her as she took him to another part of the aisle.
She handed him another book, “This one has the most amazing desserts. You have to try them.”
“I’ll trust your word,” Phil flipped through a few of the pages.
“Those would be my first two suggestions. Do you want anymore?” She asked sweetly.
“Oh, no,” Phil said with a slight shake of his head. “This is perfect. Thank you so much!”
“Of course, here I’ll give you one more recipe that’s my favorite,” She pulled out a notebook and scribbled on it before handing it to Phil. “Tell me if you like it!”
“I will!” Phil said, taking the note. When he looked down, Phil was shocked not to see a recipe but a phone number above the name Kristin. His heart leaped out of his chest when he realized what had happened. He looked back up to talk to the woman, Kristin, but she was gone. He looked around the store for a minute yet it seemed she had left the store. With a sigh, he bought the books and headed home.
Along the way, he tried to message Kristin. However, every message he typed up seemed awkward and weird. Phil decided he would ask Puffy what he should do.
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Puffy did not help him. She just laughed hysterically, “You are a world known serial killer but you can’t even text a girl?”
“Oh shut up,” Phil scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s hard asking someone out.”
“I literally have a girlfriend,” she deadpanned. “I know exactly how hard it is.”
“Well, teach me how to do it!” Phil exclaimed.
Puffy rolled her eyes, “Alright, alright, you said you met at the bookstore and she gave you her number?”
Phil nodded. He pulled out the paper and showed her.
Say something like, ‘Hi, this is Phil. We met at the bookstore, and you helped me find some cookbooks.’ It’s as easy as that. She leaned back on her couch and started sipping her tea.
Phil only looked more worried, “What am I supposed to say after that?”
“You can’t-” Puffy was honestly baffled. “-You can’t plan the whole conversation. You just have to go with the flow.”
Puffy was useless, Phil decided as he groaned into his hands. Yet, the next day he found himself doing precisely as Puffy suggested.
Hey! This is Phil, we met at the bookstore, and you helped me find a cookbook.
As soon as it was sent, Phil anxiously waited for a response. When he got a notification, he felt like his heart was going to explode.
Hi! I’m happy you contacted me. How have you been?
Just like Puffy said the conversation flowed after that. They didn’t talk long. Kristin asked if they could meet up for coffee and how could Phil say no. They met at the same place Phil always got coffee. Instead of reading the boring newspaper, he talked with Kristin. In the end, Kristin asked if they could go on another date.
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Phils’ latest victim would never be found. He chopped the body with practiced care, preparing it for disposal. First, he would give the meat to a murder of crows that lived in the forest. He would sometimes have to come back the next day if they weren’t done, but he was okay with that. Then, he would turn it into bone meal for his garden when there were only the bones left. The most beautiful flowers bloomed from those buried on bodies after all.
He watched the murder swarm the body. He had tied each body part to the ground so none of the crows could fly off with it. He had soft music playing in the background that slowly dragged him to sleep. He shook his head to wake himself and stood up, bringing his chair with him. As he walked back, he passed a chunk of meat the crows had thrown aside. He kicked it like a rock on the road back to the murder. None of them flinched.
As he walked away, he didn’t worry about leaving any trace behind. He wore a hazmat suit for a reason. Phil could go home and sleep the night away without a single worry. Then, when morning came, he quickly got ready and headed back to the forest. The bones were exactly where he left them, and only a few crows were still around. He gathered them up and left without any delay.
The rest of his day was peaceful. He worked the bones into the fertilizer for the garden. Yet something was missing.
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Phil and Kristin had gone on seven dates before Phil worked up the courage to ask her to become his girlfriend. It was a late night at the park, with the stars shining and the moon illuminating them. Kristin said yes. They had been dating for close to nine months; Kristin had met Puffy, and they both loved to talk to each other. Phil was happy. He even began to slow down killing people, too preoccupied with Kristin. He couldn’t compare anything to just being in the same room as Kristin.
He knew his happiness couldn’t last forever. Phil was getting sloppy around Kristin. He always left his journal out around her and even left his hazmat suit out with her there once. It was only a matter of time before she found out who he was. And one day she did.
Phil walked out of his room to Kristin standing there with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. He felt like a teenager in trouble.
“Phil,” she said shortly. “I have a question for you?”
“Of course, what is it?” he asked, cocking his head, a habit he picked up from the woman.
Then, rather bluntly, she said, “Why did you become a killer?”
The world stopped spinning for the blond and he felt like his life was over, “I-what?”
“Why did you become the Angel of Death?” She repeated.
“I-” Phil wasn’t sure what he could say. “I can explain.”
Kristin suddenly grimaced, “I actually don’t care why. I guess I’m more curious on how ?”
Phil was still too shocked and baffled to respond.
“How have you done it? Avoiding the police and everything?” Kristin asked with sincere interest. “I promise, I won’t tell a soul any of this. I just want to know.”
“Um-” Phil wasn’t sure how to respond other than answer her question. “I always wear gloves and keep my hair in a hair net. Sometimes, if needed, I’ll wear my hazmat suit. But most of the time, as long as I’m careful, I don’t leave a trace behind.” Kristin began to ask question after question. Her eyes shone with interest. At the end of the night, she asked if she could come with him on his subsequent murder. Of course, he said yes.
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Breaking News! The body of Lazar Beam was found. Police refuse to give any pictures at this time as they are very graphic. Lazars’ body was reportedly beheaded and disemboweled. His innards were used to write " All hail Lady Death " Police believe this indicates that the Angel of Death either has a female partner now or believes he is serving Lady Death. A black rose was also found at the scene.
Phil sat alone watching the news of Kristin and his first murder together, a sense of pride blooming in his chest. Kristin would soon be there as well, and she had gone to the store to get some ingredients for tonights’ dinner. While he waited, he imagined other murders they could commit together. Kristin had voiced her desire to drown someone, and she thought it would be amusing to watch someones’ last breath slip away. Phil couldn’t wait to see the look in her eyes say they watched.
Then she said she had heard a rumor that if you decapitate someone, they’re still conscious for a minute, “Can you imagine the look in their eyes? I think it would be fascinating .”
So Phil found himself planning the countless amount of murders with his love, and he couldn’t be happier.
“Phil!” Kristin shouted as she entered the apartment, grocery bags hanging from her arms. Phil helped her put everything away. Are you free tomorrow night?
“Yeah, why?” he asked with a cock to his head.
Kristin started putting some food away while she talked, “I want to kill someone by myself, but I still want you there to see.”
Phil froze, completely shocked by the declaration, “Wha-what?”
“Keep up, honey,” Kristin chuckled and rolled her eyes. “You helped me with the last murder, but I wanted to try one by myself.” She proceeded to explain her plan.
The other week, while she was at the mall, a man wouldn’t stop hitting her. Even when she mentioned she had a boyfriend. Kristin decided he was going to be her first solo murder. She had it all planned out but just needed to find him again. Apparently, she ran into him at the grocery store just now. Kristin threw on her best doe eyes and got his address. Tomorrow night, he would be waiting there alone for her arrival.
Phil had first been angry when he heard someone flirted with her. It quickly got replaced with pride when she explained how she used his ego against him. Kristin talked about her plans while they cooked dinner. She thought it would be fitting to cut out his eyes and his tongue before letting him bleed to death. Phil couldn’t wait to see it.
The next night, Kristin rushed Phil out of the house, almost like a small child would. She had this light in her eyes that made Phil smile. When they got there, Phil waited in the car until Kristin called him in. He was anxious the whole time. He had to hold himself back from running in there.
When he was finally allowed in, he found himself standing in front of a man tied to a chair—blood leaking from his nose and a large bump forming on his forehead. Phil watched with fascination as Kristin dug each eye out, the screams almost mute compared to the soft chuckles coming from his love. She looked over to him with the eyes soaked in red cupped in her gloved hand. Her pupils were dilated and blown wide.
It all felt like a dream watching Kristin cut out someones’ tongue. Her grin was dark and almost demented.
She pointed to Phil, “Do you know who he is? He’s the Angel of Death.” She boasted, and with the same blade that had been used to cut his tongue, she lifted his chin. “And I am his goddess .”
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Their next murder was a young woman named Alyssa. Kristin told Phil of a time in middle school where her classmate almost drowned. She couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to have your lung filled with water. So, when they found out that a young woman named Alyssa often practiced swimming late at night, they took advantage of the situation.
That would always be Kristins’ favorite murder. None of the other victims could compete with it. None of them had such a desperate look in their eyes.
They killed together for three more months. It was a fantastic killing beside his love. He took a daring leap and proposed to Kristin. Phil said he knew how much fun killing was, but he wanted to stop and just spend his life with her. She said yes, and Phil swore he could have conquered the world.
“Do you remember my grandma? The one who just passed?” Kristin interrupted their celebration. “What if we bought her old house and moved out there?”
After that, it all fell into place. The two of them had a small wedding, only with the closest of friends and family. Then they moved to the countryside across the continent. They were happy, just spending their time together. It was going great, they were going to have kids, twins, and Phil couldn’t be more delighted. Little did he know he didn’t have much more time with Kristin.
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Phils’ heart was broken. He felt like his soul had been torn out and shredded. The most important person in his life, his love, was dead. He didn’t even know what he could do anymore. He just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. He was forced from the hospital room when it happened, and as a nurse tried to comfort him, he felt his life fall apart. No comparison could compete with the aching in his heart.
However, at the same time, he had two more people to fill the hole in his heart. Two baby boys were now his own; Technoblade and Wilbur. They were the cutest things ever with their mothers’ hair and eyes. When he first saw them through the nursery window, all he could see was his deceased wife.
Then, the doctor suggested putting them up for adoption, “A single father like yourself will have a hard time raising twins.” Phils’ world crashed down on him again. He was a father of two. He stopped seeing them as mini Kristins but as his sons. He was going to give them the best life he possibly could. He knew if he abandoned these kids as his parents had, Kristin would haunt him for the rest of his life.
After a few months of taking care of his sons, he realized he didn’t just lose the brightest light in his life, but he gained two more at the cost of the original. Wilbur was loud and dramatic from a young age. Crying over the smallest things but smiling as if nothing happened when he got what he wanted. Wil would do these adorable little dances when they listened to music. Phil recorded it every chance he got.
Then there was Technoblade, so similar yet so different from Wilbur. They were twins through and through, always staying by each others’ sides. However, while Wilbur was loud, Techno was silent. He would sneak up on Phil all of the time. He thought the two of them had gone to bed when suddenly a tiny hand was grabbing at his leg. It always made Phil scream while a soft smile stretched across Techs’ face.
When Wilbur got hurt, he would be very vocal about it and make sure Phil knew something was wrong. Wilbur would tell the world whether he felt sad, hungry, or physically hurt. Meanwhile, his twin wouldn’t tell anyone he was hurt. He would hide it. Phil was always worried Tech was hiding something from him. Phil finally had a talk with him about telling either Wilbur or him. He wasn’t a bother to ask for help.
The one and only thing Phil hated about the twins was their stubbornness. If they wanted something, they got it. If Tech wanted a dog, he would get a dog. If Wilbur didn’t want to leave the aquarium, they wouldn’t leave the aquarium. The twins would work together to make Phils’ life a living hell.
As they got a little older, they started to fight, for a few months, it was bad. It got to the point they didn’t even sleep in the same room. Tech would glare at Wil with such hate over breakfast while Wil would sing at the top of his lungs. Phil stopped giving them knives at the table. One day the arguments stopped, and Phil didn’t bother asking how they fixed it; they were back to being the troublesome twins. They would still fight, of course.
Phil would hear Wil yell, “I’m telling Phil if you don’t give it back!” Then the boy would come in with puppy dog eyes and big crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks.
A few weeks later, he heard Tech shout, “I am going to fight you and kick your butt myself if you don’t give it back.” In which Phil immediately ran as fast as he could to their room.
Phils’ proudest moment was when the two of them tippy-toed into his room. They were in their mid-teens and loved to snoop around. Tech held something behind his back, and Wil reached a tentative hand out to Phil.
“Dad,” Wil said intensely. “You were the Angel of Death?” Tech revealed what he was hiding. A book. Phil's old journal.
For a moment he panicked, until Tech said, “Can you teach us how you did it?” He held pure admiration in his eyes, Phil couldn’t say no. He tried to give little to no details, but the twins didn’t like that. They begged for more information. After a few months of telling his sons’ of his adventures, they asked if they could do the same, if they could become serial killers. Phil said once they were older.
That’s how his boys followed in his own footsteps, they grew a name for themselves that would match his own with time. Then it was all interrupted by a boy. Wilbur found him funny and amusing, but soon grew attached enough to call him a little brother, Techno soon followed in calling the boy by a greek nickname. They convinced Phil to adopt the boy named Tommy. He became their youngest. He was brighter than a thousand suns, and finally, the hole that was once held by Kristin was filled again.