Domingo leaned back in his chair, resting his head on his hands. Life was good, all things considered. Scum were dropping like flies thanks to him. Those bitches don't know how lucky they are that Domingo is here.

"I'll drink to that, bitch! Woooo yeah!" Domingo said to himself as he downed a jagerbomb.

Suddenly, his door burst in which startled him so much he dropped his glass to the floor.

"Um, ever heard of knocking, asshole?"

The figure calmly started walking towards him, with knife in hand.

"Ha! You think you can stop Domingo that easily? I've fought fuckers like you before. Come at me bro!" Domingo yelled as he put his fists up.

The killer was unphased and swiftly sliced Domingo's throat. Domingo laid on the floor, miserably gasping for air as blood poured from his neck.

"Don't have much to say now, do ya? ...Bitch." the killer snarled as they left Domingo to bleed out.

On the far side of Balls of Steele, murder would soon strike again.

One man was restless. Truth be told, he hadn't gotten much of any sleep at all since they arrived in Black Creek. While the rest appeared to be sleeping, the man quietly tip toed to the Balls of Steele storage closet.

The man entered the pitch black room and shut the door behind him. He brushed his hand around the wall and flicked the light switch upwards. The light illuminated his face.

It was Paddy.

In front of Paddy was his masterpiece. Earlier, he had torn the Black Creek map straight out of one of the directory stands. He had pinned the map up onto the wall, but that wasn't all.

There were pages and pages of notes, photos of the shoppers, yarn stretched out from store to store, pins, theories, clues, etc. All four walls in the storage wall were completely covered. Paddy had come here each night that he wasn't locked in the Security Room in order to put together his wild theories.

Paddy uncorked a bottle of his Arthur's and took a swig. He set the bottle down and took a step forward towards his masterpiece.

"Begorrah, I'll catch ye yet poisoner. Soon enough, friend. Soon enough."

Paddy reached backwards for his bottle, but it wasn't where he had left it. He turned around curiously and was met with the bottle cracking across his face.

------------------------------

Paddy whistled as he diligently ran a rag across a Guinness glass. The door to Paddy's Pub swung open and a handful of Irish blokes stepped inside.

Paddy threw the rag over his shoulder and set the glass aside.

"Aye! What will it be fellas?" he asked the group.

"Four pints of ye Arthur's!" someone shouted.

Paddy smiled to himself as he went into the back storage room. Business was going well recently. Almost too well, as Paddy just noticed they were out of Arthur's.

"Begorrah!" he gasped out. That's when he saw a wooden crate on the top shelf. He set it down and pried it open. Sure enough, there were some older bottles left over. "Heaven's bless!" he shouted.

Paddy came out and poured four pints for the group. "Enjoy lads!"

Throughout the afternoon, the four friends ordered more and more of Paddy's old Arthur's. Paddy happily served them.

Sometime later, while Paddy was cleaning the back room, the sound of a few glasses shattering alerted him.

Paddy ran out to the bar and saw two of the friends passed out on the floor.

"AYE! THESE BLOKES ARN'T JUST A WEE BIT DRUNK, LOOK!" one friend shouted. He was pointing down at the foam seeping from their mouths.

"Bollocks!" the other shouted. "What did you give us, Paddy! These lads have alcohol poisoning!"

Paddy jumped to action. He hoped over the bar and saw the two young men passed out on the floor, each with a friend kneeling beside them. "Ye've gotta help us Paddy!" yelled one. "Over here Paddy! Please!" yelled the other.

Paddy stood between the two unconscious customers. Their bodies began to shake and their condition quickly worsened.

Paddy stood still, completely frozen in place. The calls for help began to drown out as Paddy wiped the sweat from his brow and beard. The screams turned to nothing but a hum and his vision began to blur. He was having some sort of panic attack.

"HERE PADDY!"

"PADDY OVER HERE, PLEASE!"



"AHH!" Paddy screamed as he shot up from his bed. It was all a dream. Paddy was sweating bullets and looked ill. He wiped his forehead and propped himself against the bed's backboard.

He reached into his drawer and took a swig of his emergency whisky.

"Aye..it was but a dream, Paddy." he said softly to himself as he laid his head back down. "It was but a dream."


------------------------------

The glass bottle shattered as alcohol and blood poured from the side of Paddy's head. He fell onto the ground while shards of glass rained down on top of him.

Paddy held the side of his head in pain. His ear was cut and his hearing was shot. All he could hear was ringing in his ears.

Alcohol and blood filled Paddy's eyes as he took a few swings around the room, hoping to make contact with his attacker.

"WHERE ARE YOU YE COWARD!" Paddy yelled weakly. He swung a few more times before he was shoved backwards.

Paddy fell against his table of maps and notes. His attacker pressed him against the table and held the broken bottle against Paddy's throat.

"Aye, I always knew me' Arthur's would be the death of me, but not this way!" Paddy exclaimed.

With that, the attacker drove the broken bottle deep into the front of Paddy's neck. Paddy gurgled as his throat was torn open. The attacker pulled the bottle back and made one more plunge.

Paddy fell backwards as his throat poured out blood, alcohol, and shards of glass. He laid on his directory map of the Black Creek Mall while blood pooled beneath him and covered his notes. He reached into his jacket pocket, removed his emergency flask of whisky, and weakly held it to his lips.

Paddy managed one final sip before his hand fell to his side and dropped the flask. He was dead.