|Gabriel Bautista (xochipilli) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-05-31 07:59:00
|Entry tags:||fenrir, freyr, npc, xochipilli|
alas poor yorick
Who: A motley crew of three: Abel, Chad, & Rafael. Then an appearance by Gabe.
What: Abel dispenses with our resident creep in a very unsavory manner.
Where: Rafe's apartment. Poor Rafe.
When: May 31.
Notes: Trigger warning for cutting, staged suicide, and murder.
Abel understood the blessings of opportunity. He was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when it presented itself so readily.
Chad Anderson leaned on the empty concierge desk, clearly waiting for either Stephan or Rafe to wander by so he could have a target for his harassment. Since neither were making themselves available, Abel decided to make it up in their stead. His pocket jingled slightly; he'd found a set of keys in the mailroom. Unbeknownst to him, they had formerly been owned by one Brittany Bernard, who, in the course of distancing herself and her friends from their sudden foray into the lobby storage closet, had dumped them in the garbage can of the concierge's desk.
Stephan had found them. And, under orders, Stephan had placed them just so, exactly for Abel to find and collect them, realizing at once just what they were and what they were for. This had all happened a few days ago, and now here was Chad.
Surely this all couldn't be a coincidence.
"Looking for someone?"
Chad perked up from scrolling through his phone, looking like he was five seconds away from calling someone. He frowned, displeased to be interrupted, but that true expression was quickly painted over like a highway billboard. A wide grin appeared under his strange-looking mustache, and his head bobbed as he slid his phone back into his pocket.
"Hi, yeah, actually; I'm Chad, Chad Anderson, do you know when your concierge will be back?" He stuck out his hand in a friendly manner, his swagger apparent as he lifted off of the desk and walked the few steps toward Abel. Abel had made sure of that; he'd stayed in place, forcing a reaction from Chad, unconscious or otherwise. He smiled in return, a far more tempered expression, and gripped the other man's hand in return. He shook his head.
"No, Stephan has a mind of his own. He does what he wants," Abel said, teasingly. "Maybe I can help?"
Annoyance tinged Chad's eyes, making them narrow just so, but his smile never wavered. It was the practiced smile of someone who was used to making nice with all types, forever looking cheerful even if it mean his eyes were going to start bleeding. "Uh, sure, I mean, you live here, right? I'm looking for Rafe. Rafe Atala?"
"Ah," Abel nodded, the image of Rafe bound with his shirt pulled over his head immediately springing to mind. The thought made him half-hard, but he had enough control to prevent any unwanted bodily social gaffes. "I do. And, actually, I was about to head over there," he ad-libbed, pocketing one hand around the keys that had been so neatly presented to him. "Since you're a friend, do you want to come and just wait with me?"
Where he was going with this was really anyone's guess -- Abel had never been so bold before, had never done something like this outside the comfort of a very controlled environment. He had no idea where Rafe was, only that he was certain the man wasn't home, and no timeline to work with. And yet something like that only made this whole scene even more exciting. His pupils widened, heart picking up a little, but Chad saw none of these would-be obvious signs.
"Well, hell, sure," he replied, his mouth widening as if he were getting ready to swallow Abel down. This rube, that smile said. This idiot. If only everyone were as stupid.
If only you could recognize the wolf eyeing the dog, Abel thought, clasping an arm around Chad's shoulders.
"Then let me lead the way," he said in reply, the two suddenly jovial and well-acquainted as Abel walked the porn producer down the hall to 104. He removed the contact upon arriving at the door, and, with one quick twist of a set of keys, the decision was made.
Abel steered Chad inside the familiar space of Rafe's apartment; even if he hadn't been there before, he would have walked inside with the same swagger, the same ownership. Chad moved out in front of him, eyes immediately moving over the unit possessively, as if knowing each object intimately would give him some sort of power over their owner. Abel hung back, watching this, slowly closing the door behind him.
"You know, I never asked -- How do you know Rafe?"
Chad didn't turn around from his perusal, walking forward to put a fingertip to the mast sail of a little toy boat carving set on Rafe's kitchen counter. "We work together. And I never caught your name?"
Abel shrugged, moving toward the other man on slow, quiet steps. "That's OK -- you don't need to know it."
That brought Chad's attention around; he looked up to find Abel standing suddenly very close. He started, trying to move back, but found himself trapped between Abel's figure and the counter.
"What the fuck, man?"
"Nothing," Abel replied, his hand snatching out whip-fast to grab the back of Chad's lapel, securely holding his neck to slam his face down onto the counter and stunning him. Abel did it again, and again, Chad's hands swinging wildly for either some kind of purchase to pull himself away from his attacker, or for a weapon, or anything. But Abel was fully in control; he pulled a disoriented Chad toward the bedroom and, in passing the bathroom, changed his mind. He pulled Chad inside, shoving him down onto the toilet.
"You know, I really hate to do this," Abel started, watching Chad's reflection in the mirror as the other man tried to make sense of his throbbing head. Abel pulled open the medicine cabinet, eyes widening happily as he noted a razor. He took it out, closing the cabinet, finding Chad exactly where he'd left him. "I have to admire your tenacity; someone says no, you just punch right through it, don't you?"
"What?" Chad blinked, his ears suddenly filled with the sound of running water as Abel turned the bathtub facet on, filling the tub.
"I have to wonder how many others you've got under your thrall, or is it just Rafe?"
"Just...what the fuck are you talking about?" Chad tried to stand, but Abel grabbed him, again, this time by the throat, and slammed his head against the toilet tank cover. Chad was out like a light.
"Wow, that's unfortunate. I really wanted to talk methods, but..." he shook his head, making a tsking sound. "So hard to get people to really listen these days." With careful hands, he lifted and placed Chad, still fully dressed, into the now three-quarters of the way full tub. Removing the razor from the handle, he pressed it delicately to Chad's wrists, cutting lengthwise, unzipping the flesh to reveal large blossoms of red that immediately ran over Chad's pale skin to color the water quickly rising around him. "But I think this'll be fun, don't you?"
He dropped the razor in the water after wiping his fingerprint off with a towel; he carefully saw to the toilet tank lid as well. Pausing inside the room for a few moments, he watched the blood ooze out of Chad with a slow menace not unlike the man himself. Pleased with his work, he left the bathroom door slightly ajar, lingering in the apartment for a few moments longer. Curiosity got the better of him and he wandered around, eventually coming upon a betta fish in a small, square plastic tank. Abel tapped the plastic walls, making the water and everything inside tremble.
The fish gaped at him, as it probably did with everything else; it ran when he reached inside, splashing water around, lowering the level just an inch as he grabbed the thing, holding it by one flopping fin in the air outside of its natural habitat. Lifting it up, he only wished he could see Rafe's reaction to all of this implanted chaos; and then he swallowed Mr. Fishy whole, the slick, oily taste of the fish lingering in his throat for a long moment.
The sound of the bathtub continued; it sounded like Chad had come to, and was trying to scramble out of it. Abel waited, listening, watching the door to see if his latest victim might emerge like some water-logged sailor from a sunken ship, but just as soon as the splashing had started, it stopped. He heard Chad slip back down into the depths, and then there was nothing except the water.
Smiling to himself, Abel showed himself out, careful to clean up any other further messes that might leave incriminating evidence.