Cesare Falcon (highroller) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-04-28 17:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | gambling, horror |
Search for pleasure search for pain; in this world now I am undying
Who: Gambling (highroller) & Horror (dark_soul)
What: Tonight, I think you die.
Where: Las Vegas
When: Wednesday night
Warnings: Violence
Vegas was convulsing and thrashing in pain, in agony, in ecstasy. Giggling, screaming, laughing, crying, begging, she tried to keep it all in, tried with all her might until she ended up vomiting and drowning in her own filth.
Was she being infected by his madness? Or was it her madness that infected him, leaving its marks under his skin?
Gambling tilted his head and studied the black flames licking up his neck. They covered half of his chest and his left arm - another reminder that he had not always been the slick, smooth being he was today. He listened to the wailing of the Five Stars, sneering.
In sickness and in health, sweetheart.
Any second now...
"Daniel O'Shea!"
Ah, there, the dulcet tones of his resurrected dearest, darling wife.
"Hello, darling," Seth replied, downing his drink and strolled away to pour himself another one, knowing she would follow. He didn't have to listen to know what was coming, because he'd heard it a thousand times before. A plethora of 'where were you?', 'you said you would', 'why didn't you?' - why, why, why, WHY?
The pitch of her voice, the whiny tone, they grated on his frazzled nerves. Rubbing and chafing - slow, painful torture. If only she would go away. The bittersweet pleasure of familiarity had turned into familiar pain much too soon.
If only she would be quiet for just one minute. But true to her role, she continued to nag and nag and nag and nag.
Setting the bottle down - wouldn't want to waste that - he turned around and backhanded her across the face. The shocked expression she wore as she looked up to him from the ground, brought a smile to his.
"You know what killed our marriage, Jean?" Gambling asked, as he crouched down and closed a hand around her neck. So tiny, so fragile. "You never knew when to shut up."
A tear rolled down her cheek, mingling with the thin trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth, as she tried to pry his hand away. Manicured fingernails dug into his wrist when he tightened his grip, drawing blood. There were many ways to kill a person and strangling someone was not as easy as the movies liked to make it appear.
It took a lot of strength and you risked getting injured by your thrashing victim. Gambling knew all that but was willing to go through with it, except it was much harder than he'd anticipated.
Something snapped.
"Do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?" Reaching behind him, Gambling grabbed the first thing that was on the table - a lead crystal ashtray - and slammed it into her face.
Her scream rang through the empty penthouse and Vegas screamed back at her.
Her pale hair turned the colour of crimson and warm droplets of blood landed on his face as he continued to beat her relentlessly, mercilessly. He heard bones crack, felt her skull give in but he didn't stop until his fingers, slick with her blood and brain matter, could no longer hold on to the ashtray.
Silence finally descended and Vegas heaved a sigh of relief.
Seth pushed himself to his feet again, fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. Eyes gleaming with satisfaction stared down at the limp, lifeless body on the ground.
She looked not right and not because of her damaged face and the hole in her head. Wedging the tip of his shoe under her cheek, he lifted her head a little and laughed when he saw her real face.
"Nicely played," he muttered, sticking his smoke into the corner of his mouth and bent down to pick Horror's corpse up.
Delivery time.