Victor Creed (ex_sabertoot215) wrote in xemplify, @ 2008-07-25 00:05:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | § independents, › pre-time change, ► pre-revamp: sabertooth |
WHO: Sabretooth - NPCs
WHAT: Murder
NOTES Gore no smut.
A deep growling like purr noise seemed to be coming from the back of the building, it was irritating and was starting to more than annoy the man working behind the bar. He attempted to keep his mind on his job, and he kept on stacking the bottles, getting the place ready to open in a couple of hours, grand opening days, always fun to be part of them, even if this was not the first such one he’d attended and worked at for his current employer. Keith Dempney was thirty three years old, he’d worked for James Dooley now for the last seven years, seen him take over small bars, make them into booming businesses only for the man to sell them again at more than double what he’d paid for them, and here it seemed he was about to do it again. Just two more hours, Keith was thinking as that damn growly purr started up again and he nearly dropped a crate of the bottles he was moving around.
Not sure why he did it, because the noise was too … something or other to be taken for it being merely kids, but he was angry, listening too it constantly for the last hour had given him a headache, so picking up the replica shot gun from behind the bar, one that had no cartridges and even if it did, couldn’t be used as a real gun anyway, he began towards the back door, “ok you little son’s of bitches, I’ve had about enough of this pissy assed game you all think you’re playing!” He shouted out in an angry voice, as he pushed the door wide open, gun being lifted ready to be aimed and to be used merely to scare the little bastards off. The barrel of the shot gun was lifting, Keith was feeling empowered holding that thing, only his eyes did not meet with any scared looking kids, they didn’t meet with anyone or anything, until a huge amount of thick golden hair drooped down in front of him from over the door frame, and a huge burly looking arm seemed to appear from nowhere, as the fingernails … or more like claws, sliced through that metal barrel he’d been feeling oh so brave to be on the other side of, and it fell from the rest of the shot gun. He began to back up, as a face appeared and lips parted flashing off two huge fangs, there may well have been others but the two huge ones were what caught his eyes.
“Boo.” Came from the mouth, the fangs belonged too, and then the head, the hair, and the arm all disappeared, until the rest of the body that belonged to them appeared and one huge looking … man thing walked into the back door.
Keith had been expecting to see teenagers, he’d been expecting to see them run off, now he was backing up, and he could feel his bladder letting go, feel his own urine wandering down his legs dampening the plain black slacks he wore. Leaving a wet trail as he carried on moving.
“Know I’m something special boy, but ain’t no need to be pissin’ yerself in excitement.” Came from Creed’s mouth, as Keith had backed himself up as far as he could go, his back against the bar, the useless shot gun still in clutched pathetically in his hands. Creed didn’t waste his time with any more talking, his arm thrust out quickly and sharp claws that had began to retract back into the tips of his fingers jutted out, and with one swipe of them, Keith’s throat was sliced open, with a punch like move, so the claws dug themselves into what was left of the flesh on Keith’s neck, into the bones of his spine that connected his head to the rest of him and through the flesh on the other side, and Keith was lifted off his feet and positioned on top of the bar. His blood trickling down about him, in beautiful red waves, luckily for Keith his spinal column was broken, there was no more oxygen going to his brain, nor blood due to the initial slash, so what happened to him next wasn’t something he had to suffer through.
One James Dooley owed the wrong people some money. One James Dooley was due to arrive at the bar in two hours with a group of business men. When they did arrive they had a lovely little welcoming scene to enjoy.
Keith’s body had been flayed, his skin had been cut into a lovely polite little message that was artistically placed above the bar and dangled from various broken bottles that had been rammed into the ceiling.