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Deadly Games To Play

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PostPosted: Mon Mar 17, 2014 9:46 pm    Post subject: Deadly Games To Play  Reply with quote

[ Gero Kureji Seishin ]
-Son To Eiji Seishin-
-Assassin Of The Bloody Talons-
{ Theme: -pending- }

*Broken glass crunched under foot as the male crossed the room. Bloody tread marks of biker boots left in his wake. When he got where he was going, he'd lazily settle onto a torn, blood speckled couch. One leg would cross over the other, as he pulled a blood drenched dagger from the seat beside himself. With that, he'd begin cleaning his nails.. Almost as if this were the most normal thing do.. while surrounded by blood and corpses. His gaze would move from his nails, to look upon his handy work.. One lived still. Alright.. so she barely lived.. Point was, he left her alive. His gaze would then go from there to look at the blood speckled whiskey bottles on a rusted safe beside where he sat.*

"....1920... A good year... I think I'll help myself.."

~The dagger was then jammed into the cushion again, before he'd snatch the bottle from the safe. He'd bite the lid, ripping it off and spitting it out, before taking a long haul off the bottle. His gaze then slid back to the woman.. Soft cries reaching faintly pointed ears.~

"Don't cry, bitch. You're lucky to even be alive. In all honesty, you only live because you've bored me. Now.. Was taking my bike a wise thing, hmm?"

~His free hand would wave lazily, in motion to the four dead men around the battered woman. A sneer spreading over his lips as he moved the whiskey bottle to rest against his lap.~

"I could make you join your friends.. Whimpering whores like you  are pathetic.."

~His legs would straighten out after that, and in one fluid motion he'd be on his feet. The blood stained trench coat he wore moving almost in a cape like motion behind him as he'd move to her. The woman would scream, beggin him not to hurt her. When he got close enough, he'd bring his booted foot down on her wrist. At first, he didn't apply a lot of pressure.. It was more so done to be threatening.. Or perhaps he was doing it just to get his point across... It was hard to really say for sure.~

Woman: P-Please.. Don't hurt me.. I'm sorry..

~Hearing her, a slender brow would lift in mild interest before he'd just sneer in annoyance. The boot would suddenly come down harder than before.. And the pressure only increased till he heard a sickening snap. A sharp shriek of pain escaped the woman as her wrist shattered beneath Gero's boot.~

"Don't hurt you? DON'T HURT YOU?! What about what you did to my bike, you stupid fucking whore?! It'll take two paychecks to repair it and get that horrid paint job you and your fucking asshole friends did to it. Where the fuck are the keys? And don't dick me around.. Or I'm liable to just carve you the fuck up."

~He'd kneel down after that, in a crouch position. Dark pink eyes stared coldly at her. Expectantly awaiting her answer. For a moment, he was met with silence.. Right up till the point, where he pulled a fourth dagger from his coat and pinned it to her throat. The blade pierced her, but only enough for a thin trickle of blood to form.. Nothing life threatening.. Yet..~

"This is the only warning you're going to get. Now where the fuck are the keys to my bike? You fucks had some balls to rip the keys out of my pocket. The only thing that saved your asses up till I found your little fun-house was the night club had been too crowded for me to properly chase you."

~He'd press the blade into her throat slightly. Not enough to kill. No.. He was enjoying toying with this one. The others, he had merely sliced them up.. Not counting the last one he killed.. The last one, he had emptied two clips of bullets into the man. Over kill, sure.. But it got the job done as far as he was concerned. And this one.. This woman.. He had sliced her up.. shot her twice.. But none of the injuries had been aimed at fatel spots.. He needed one alive to question.~

"Keys, and now."

~The whiskey bottle was sat on the floor in front of himself.. His now free hand would reach out, palm up as he waited. The woman would just start to cry. She hadn't been in on this. It had been the guys that hung around the run down little shithole they called home. She was nothing more than the younger sister of one of the dead guys.~

Woman: I-I don't know.

~A frown would take his lips as he'd suddenly pull the dagger away. For a moment, it'd seem he was going to back off.. He'd even sort of hobble backwards. Although in the next instant, the dagger came down, buried into her right hand. Hard enough for the dagger's blade to come out the other side of her hand and bury into the floor. Causing her hand to become stuck to the floor.~

"I do believe you're lying. Stop dicking me around, bitch. Before things get seriouly ugly. Where the fuck are they?"

~The woman would just cry softly. It took her several moments before she was able to find the words. All she could repeat over and over again was behind the safe. Gero would stand in the same fluid motion before moving back to the couch. The dagger would join the other three.. Slammed into the couch before he'd grab the safe and flip it onto it's side. And there they were.. He'd kneel briefly, scooping them up before standing once more. After that, he'd pocket his keys, and go about gathering his daggers. Three put away, one kept out. He'd move back to her.. The whiskey bottle was scooped up after that before he'd turn his focus on her this time.~

"Since I'm certain you and your friends ran the gas out of my bike, is there any fuel around this shit-hole?"

~The woman would respond.. But it was barely above a whisper.~

"In the back.. It's... it's a storage closet."

~He'd nod lightly.. A show that he had heard her. He'd turn and walk out of the room. A few moments later, he'd return with a red gas can. He didn't even pay her passing glance. He'd head outside. Once out, the whiskey bottle was sat on the bike's seat and he'd get the gas cap off his bike. Though he only put in about half what was in the can. Enough for a full tank.. Which left some in the can..

A sick little grin coiled his pale lips as he'd remove a hankerchief from his back pocket. Normally he kept these rags around to clean his hands after a job.. But it wasn't like it mattered.. He had dozens of these things back home. He'd kneel down, once more in a crouch. He'd go to work now.. The rag was half stuffed down the funnel of the can. He'd stand after that, can in his hands. A lighter produced from his pocket, he'd light the rag and chuck the can into the open door of the little run down building. With that, he'd grab the whiskey and grab the handle bars of the bike, and walk it away from the place. When he got far enough, he'd pause, sipping the whiskey and watching the place start to go up in flames.

He did love a bon fire.. And it wasn't like he had promised he'd let the woman in there live. Point was, her friends stole his keys, and then.. his bike. He wasn't about to let them just get away with it. And in his mind, she was just as guilty. As she had tried to fight him along side her friends. As far as he was concerned, they all got what was coming to them.

When the fire started to really get going, only then would he'd toss what was remaining of the whiskey to the side and mount the bike, firing it up. With that, he'd take off, heading for Pierre's garage. The best he could do, was drop the bike off and call someone to pick him up.~

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