Reveling in Rapacious Revenue

Lounging indolently within one of the thread bare lobby seats Hull idly inspected the fruits of his dilatory labour as he ran a single sterling tipped finger over the faint etchings inscribed into the entire pallid surface of human bone. A series of stick figures locked into a farce of combat, each ones death more inventive and ludicrous than the one before it. Classical art had never been one his strengths, modern art however, well...

After a few moments the sinister slaughterers hand abandoned its listless tracing and trailed back to handle of the quotidian switchblade which had carved the inane inscriptions. A faint coating of alabaster dust obscured the knifes tip and the point itself seemed to have dulled somewhat after its introduction to the osseous matter yet the twisted traveler determined the weapon could still serve some use in the nearby future as he flicked a thumb over the release mechanism and retracted the blade and then engulfed the remaining handle with his hand .

A split second later the Canadian killers hand reopened, revealing a gleaming silver knitting needle, the item was treated to a brief frown before it began to twirl between deft fingers. Then, abruptly, the miniature spike was grasped between thumb and forefinger and driven towards the anarchists ear, seemingly plunging into the depths of the killers skull, an assumption which would only have been supported by the manner in which Hull's head limply fell back and collided with the wall.

The reaction such an action received was not, perhaps, what one might expect. There was no sudden gasp of surprise, no shocked exclamations or curses, or even any attempts to ascertain whether or not the foreign fiend truly had passed on. Instead there only an short intake of breath which swiftly turned into an annoyed sigh from the sanctuary receptionist as a low chuckle escaped Hull's lips and he lifted his head back to its proper position withdrew an now empty hand from the side of his head, treating the woman to a mocking smirk as he did so.

Giving the Canadian killer to a tight smile in return Lisa directed her attention back to the papers before her. Although she rarely ventured beyond Sanctuary's lobby Lisa's position allowed her to keep abreast of all the residents comings and goings, thus she was well aware of Hull's feigned fatality performances. In fact he had pulled that precise act when he'd first been given the paperwork to secure his residence; the moment Lisa had left to fetch one of the residents healers the malevolent murderer had quietly slipped away, though not before taking the opportunity to insert a number of pins in between the keys of her computer keyboard.

Hull?

Shifting his toxic gaze down the expansive corridor leading towards Sanctuary's residential section Hull swiftly caught sight of a girl who was little more than child, older than the precious Katrina certainly, but still far from being a grown woman. The gamine was adorned in what could be best be described as a hodgepodge of miscellaneous uncoordinated attire, yet what truly drew the malevolent murderers attention were the scattered specks of crimson decorating the girls face and chest. Hull had more than enough experience with the human body to recognize blood when he saw it, and if that wasn't a human thigh bone in her left hand he was the next Captain Planet.

This was promising.

Rising from his seat the demented anarchist offered the girl an overly theatrical bow as he prepared himself for an afternoon of over the top eccentric showmanship. Such dissembling tended to annoy most people, which was entertaining. Sometimes it encouraged them to play along, which was also entertaining. Indeed the only time such affectations failed to provide amusement was when his audience attempted to ignore him, such efforts rarely lasted long however.

"Alexander Damien Darling at your service, you may call me Darling."

As he had suspected the girl was indeed the one he had been waiting, though she declined to give to any authentic alias and simply stood by her moniker of "Aura". The origins of such an appellation were readily transparent as the gamine's form was coated with a roseate shaded luminescence which pulsed slightly to some invisible beat. If not for the feminine colour the overall effect could have been quietly intimidating, as it was though the sight was somewhat laughable until one once again considered the flecks of crimson blood.

"I'm guessing you understand this job, can be violent at times?"

A shadow of amusement flickered across the twisted travelers face before his features swiftly resolved themselves into a somber expression. "Oh dear, that is... disappointing." The merest ghost of a grin tugged at his lips. "I do so hate sharing you see."

When one works for any length of time in any combative occupation they eventually encounter characters who would best be described as possessing a flexible sense of morals; people who had never truly placed much stock by such grandiose notions as the sanctity of life. A rather laughable term really, created and espoused only by those who were too weak to defend themselves in the hopes of prolonging their subsistence.

In any case, when one deals with violence on a daily basis they learn to recognize those whose moral compasses no longer hinder their instincts. Some of course are better at disguising themselves than other and so, more often than not it is simply a matter of subconscious intuition, a gut instinct that the fulcrum of an individual's mental equilibrium had been shifted to a more... interesting position.

Aura was one such person.

Admittedly this was no savant worthy leap of deduction, the girl carried humans bones with her and was sprinkled with blood, yet even without those obvious indicators there clues. The adolescents physiognomy was far too bland for a child her age, it was almost mechanical in a way, and it should not need to be said how much store machines put by human life. Then there was the girl's horrendous collection of raiment's, provided the entirety of sanctuary's residents were not colour blind Aura's appearance would have made her key target for mockery, yet the gamines stance was as mechanical as her expression and betrayed no signs of timidity or hesitancy.

Hull lips twitched into a deceptively pleasant grin. The girl, on some level, was just like him; this little errand was becoming quite promising indeed.

"You drive?"[/color]

The morbid murderers affable smile barely shifted, he'd already decided that he would act the role of genial psychotic killer for this particular outing and so he adjusted his verbal response accordingly, maintaining a polite and congenial tone as he feel into step directly behind his new 'partner'. "On occasion, I generally prefer public transport; I find it tends to present more... opportunities."

The malevolent pair made their way past the ostentatious aureate doors which safeguarded sanctuary's entrance and progressed down the pavement at calm pace when a thought seem to strike the young brunette for she paused and voiced her curiosity regarding the Canadian killers mutation, her query was then followed by a crude yet effective demonstration of her own gifts which caused Hull a moments pause as he silently processed the girls display and abruptly arrived at a conclusion which caused his grin to widen by a certain measure.

'I'm working with the lavender lantern.'

Allowing friendly chuckle to escape his throat the sinister slaughterer treated the inquisitive gamine to an amused expression as he stepped forward and calmly extended an empty hand towards the girls ear. "My talents," The hand was swiftly withdrawn, the argent fingers now occupied with deftly twirling the metallic knitting needle from earlier. "revolve around" The silver spike suddenly vanished in a barely discernable flicker of motion which left the hand empty once more. "legerdemain." The foreign fiends other hand abruptly made itself known to the faintly glowing girl as the two short barrels of a sawn of shotgun softly prodded her stomach.

Hull's amiable grin grew slightly for a moment before he then withdrew the weapon and placed it into one of the leg pockets on his cargo shorts which, mysteriously, did not appear any fuller even after the twisted wanderers empty hand withdrew. "Also known as sleight of hand."

"Now, shall we proceed?"

Laughter was not a response Hull received when displaying his talents, and as Aura's amusement echoed down the desolate streets the twisted travelers fingers tightened on the trigger of the shotgun ever so briefly. The moment barely lasted longer than the blink of an eye before the twisted traveler's amiable affectation took hold once more and he vanished the weapon with a certain flourish and began to follow the girl down the street.

The fact that the child had shown no salient fear of her own potential demise spoke of two optimal possibilities, either she believed her 'aura' was capable of acting fast enough to withstand the impetus of such a point blank assault, a somewhat depressing possibility, or the gamine had simply taken his actions to be nothing more than an over dramatized display of his abilities, which in truth, they had been. Still though it would be interesting to see the girl in action and learn precisely what she was able to achieve.

"Can you store people as well?"[/color]

That was a question which deserved a silver dollar, sadly however the wandering menace currently only possessed a roll of vermillion notes. In the place of such a token the Canadian killer instead selected to take his philanthropic facade a step further and cheerfully ruffled the child's hair as he replied. "An excellent question little miss, I can indeed store a human body, generally though when I retrieve them they become rather careless cadavers."


Was he perhaps being a touch too condescending? One never really knows until they finish poking the dragon in the eye with a rusty spoon.

Joy of joys they were going to take a bus, an oversized metallic monstrosity outmatched only by trunks, tanks and other armored military vehicles. The potential for mayhem was pleasantly high if he could somehow manage to get behind the wheel; most people never truly thought about the amount of damage which could be caused by a machine several times the size of an average car. It really was quite impressive, especially if you managed to ignite the fuel tank.

Still, little miss Barbie back at sanctuary had rather frowned upon the concept of wholesale chaos and slaughter. Why this was Hull truly couldn't understand, but in any case she had insisted he apply an element of subtlety to his typical endeavors, this of course begged the question; 'how subtle can one be with an out of control bus?' Quite quandary and verily it was one which demanded an answer.

However, as there was still ten minutes to kill before the aforementioned vehicle even arrived the deranged anarchist would simply have to find other ways to keep himself amused. His emerald eyes alighted on the sleeping hobo, killing hobos was considered subtle wasn't it? after all it wasn't as though anybody cared about them, really he'd be doing the city a favour by thinning their numbers and cutting unemployment.

"Oh dear we can't this, the poor soul could catch his death in this chill."The sinister slaughters benign words and tone paused here to allow his sole audience to appreciate the 90° weather, before he continued. "I shall have to find a way to warm him up, I simply wouldn't feel otherwise."

Roughly eight minutes later the still oblivious hobo was now rather firmly secured to the ancient bench with liberal amounts of alcohol soaked duck tape to the point where the man resembled a surprisingly realistic cocoon form hitherto undiscovered insect. Leading away from the bound mans feet was another solitary strip of the silver substance which crawled around to the back of the bench to form a somewhat counterintuitive fuse, which Hull then proceeded to light once the bus made its appearance

"Will this be enough for bus fare?"[/color]

With a gentle hand on the back of the girls shoulder Hull gently led Aura up the steps to the bus and deftly plucked a single $20 bill from the roll before placing it in the drivers shirt pocket with a reassuring smile and guiding Aura towards the back of the vehicle in order to watch the beginnings of the bonfire as the bus began to pull away.

Dear oh dear, it appeared as though little miss lavender lantern had a number of unresolved issues when it came to the majority of the population at large. While many so called 'doctors' would diagnose the base cause as little more than a severe inferiority complex on the girls part Hull was far less narrow minded and instead simply saw an ill attired tomboy with a healthy dose of aggression which rather reminded the Canadian Killer of his younger days.

Much like his young partner now he'd needed help, someone to give him a sense of direction and purpose, however there'd been no one who had truly understood him and thus he'd been forced to forge his own path and learn how to guide his instinctive aggression towards more productive and amusing ends. It had been a most valuable lesson and clearly one which Aura had not yet embarked upon and as such it would have been remiss of the twisted traveler not to offer what advice he could.

"Everyone has a purpose Miss, even if they're little more than sheep their lives have a meaning of sorts," Most of which revolve around producing an endless supply of victims and providing comical deaths, after all think how dull and empty the world would be without humans. Who would entertain us with futile shows of force or provide us with the very tools we need to prevail against them? No should have to ration their ammunition. They have their place Miss and not all of them will revolve around funeral pyres."Because stacking bodies is too much bloody effort.

Leaning back adroitly in his seat Hull calmly folded his arms and allowed his eyes to close as the bus meandered through the city traffic. He was rather pleased over his performance with the with the Hobo a few minutes ago; few things were quite so satisfying as finding ways to make a set of rules fit your own purposes. It was a more subtle form of corruption than he typically enjoyed but fulfilling nonetheless.

"Why don't you tell me about the, ah, clients we'll be dealing with today? It will help take your mind off things."