The First Victim
by Harbinger of Death

The Harbinger of Death observed his kill closely in the industrial science lab. The unsuspecting girl hummed to herself while she picked out the ingredients she needed for the large vat simmering on a huge burner. Actually, the thing was more like a bonfire, it was so big. Obviously this is where they made products in massive volumes for campus use.

“This personal batch of beauty soap will be perfect for my combination skin,” she said to no one in particular, and rubbed her cheek, which looked pretty rough from HoD’s seat.

‘Looks like you need it, babe,’ he thought to himself. ‘But sadly it’s not meant to be.’ HoD went up to the vat and tapped the girl on the shoulder. She turned and looked at the hooded figure with horror, which was the desired response, but something just wasn’t right.

“You look really familiar to me,” said the Harbinger.

“No, no, I’m just a new Deb,” she said, stammering. “In fact, I’m not even worth your time. Buh-bye!” She made a move for the door, but of course wasn’t fast enough. HoD casually grabbed the scruff of her neck with one strong deathly hand, and tapped his temple with the other, deep in thought. “Eeep!” gurgled the girl.

“I’m sure I’ve seen you before. Positive of it. Where have I seen that face...ah! Now I know!” He snapped his fingers and pulled her hair. Right off her head. “You’re that weird transvestite chancellor.”

“It was a matter of survival,” Omar said. “You don’t understand what these women are capable of. I’ve barely escaped with my life!”

“Huh, that is a problem, isn’t it. Well, let me save you the trouble.” With that, Omar was tossed into the vat of bubbling soap just as the sharp mixing blades were coming down from the mechanical arm. He screamed as the metal tore into his flesh and ripped his body apart piece by piece, stirring him and folding him into the mixture until he was pureed like soup in the vat.

“I wonder if they should call this soap Omar of Olay,” the Harbinger chuckled as he went his way. “This is wasting time, though. I’ll have to start doing multiple kills if I’m to get everyone by Halloween. I’ve got a schedule keep.” He whistled a merry tune as he plotted out his next assassination.

Back in the lab, the automated soap machine finished the process of pouring the liquid into molds, cooling it and packaging it. Essence of Omar lay in neat little white bars in neat little white paper. What a pretty sight. And no one would yet suspect a thing.