Hey I said you're godless and and it seems like you're a soulless friend as thoughtless as you were back then I swear that you are godless
Frost had been stalking this particular priest for about an hour now. A catholic priest, still wearing his cassock and collar. Older man, with thinning gray hair and eyes that were blue colored but looked a little washed out, like the color of blue jeans that had seen their fair share of washings. An hour was a long time to stalk someone in Frost-land. But she liked this one. He liked to bang hookers (he'd already done two tonight), refuse to pay them under threat of telling the police about them, and then - and this was Frost's favorite part - suggest that they come to confession for their sins.
It was dangerous, at best, when Frost liked someone.
Hey, I guess you loved me when I gave or you took something it's stranger than it's ever been I guess it's what you wanted
The priest was screaming through his ball gag. His arms were stretched above his head, tied to a thick and wide chunk of wood so tightly that his hands were turning purple. He looked terrified. Frost smiled brightly at him, showing far to much fang for it to be any sort of friendly or comfortable. Which was okay, because he wasn't meant to be comfortable. Frost pressed a railroad spike to one of his wrists, and picked up a mallet. She started singing.
Hey as for the day my friend to hope that you could ever bend I swear you are, I swear you are I swear that you are godless
He was unconscious, which was unfortunate - Frost wanted to hear the priest scream some more. She picked up the fourth spike and jabbed it into his side. With her strength, it easily passed through soft skin and delicate tissues, puncturing some unimportant artery. Frost pulled it out and tossed it to the other side of the rooftop. She wasn't concerned about fingerprints. She was dead, after all. A dead man can't leave fingerprints behind.
Hey I said you're godless hey and you're a soulless friend hey I said you're heartless and I swear, I swear godless godless you're godless
The ropes would hold the makeshift cross easily. It was heavy, but Frost had laced it up really well. She pushed the wood with the priest that was bleeding to death off the edge of the hotel roof, and it fell fell fell and caught suddenly, jerking. It danced for a second and settled. Frost smiled to herself. Everything was looking up.