The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
Pain is a vastly protean concept, far too often it is merely misconstrued as nothing more than its physical facet; an unpleasant side effect resulting from trauma to the skin. The ignorant masses lack the capacity to truly comprehend the full scope of agony their minds can so readily provide, an accomplished aficionado however is well aware that, in many ways, pain is like ice cream; although only a limited selection is generally offered main stream, a vast aggregation of flavours are available to those who truly know where to look. Anything ranging from the dull vanilla throb of a brute force contusion to the aberrant white hot torment of a gouged eye, yet pain is not limited to purely physical wounds, there are other mediums it can take; fear, grief, shame, rejection, despair… all represent a form of suffering which can, with care, be coaxed from the mind of another and crafted to whichever purpose the manipulator sees fit.
For all its complexity and versatility the derivation of pain is surprisingly abecedarian; stemming from nothing more than the most primal instinct of survival, honed through untold generations, humanity’s persistent subsistence has resulted in a genetic ethos which covets nothing more strongly than arcadian analgesia, and it is because of this inveterate Eros that torture has long been a well utilized tool in the praxis of practical punishment. In spite of all its history however one vital aspect of torture is often overlooked, especially in modern western society where so much emphasis is placed upon the individual instead of the group, yet it should be noted that true torture is never restrained to a single casualty, in the same way a single leaf can cause ripples upon the surface of a lake, so too can the effects of torture extend beyond the boundaries of the initial victim. Humans are, after all, social creatures and though there may be the occasional exception by and large every individual is connected to at least one other and through such connections many things may be shared; affection, amusement, amazement, alarm, anger, anxiety and of course agony.
Illatively it is imaginable that a solitary act of cruelty to a single individual could, in fact disseminate across an entire community, nay an entire society, if only the act in question prove potent enough. A concatenation of events fueled by wrath and revenge as the pain of one inspires the many to seek out that ever so elusive and prejudicant of conceits known as justice. Driven by bovarism and a fallacy of social equity the vengeful would seek to extract their own form of reparation and, in doing so, would step beyond the convoluted constructs of the law, thereby entering an addictive game without rules, where the only limitation was lack of imagination and the grand prize was the chance to play again.
At least, that was the dream.
Although Hull’s customary grip on sanity was tenuous at the best of times the malevolent murderer retained an innate faculty for ratiocination when it came to the crafting of chaos, thus the twisted traveler was able to recognize, if somewhat despondently, that while a fresh horde of vigilantes would certainly make his life far more interesting, more than likely his description would simply be passed onto the local authorities were it would swiftly be filed away out of sight and, ultimately, out of mind. Still, there was no reason the sinister slaughterer couldn’t enjoy his present endeavor, after all, what could be more rewarding than working with impressionable young minds?
… a certain corticated brunette did spring to mind, however the deranged wander swiftly dismissed such thoughts as his argent hands continued to gently stroke the quivering gamines blonde hair. There would be time enough to tease the buxom bonemancer at a later date, for now though he needed to ensure his latest playmate felt appreciated.
“You.”[/color]
Shaken from his insidious machinations the former soldier shifted his venomous viridian gaze, having only just caught the faintest whisper from the trembling ingénues lips. A ghost of a grin danced across the anarchist’s agreeable countenance while his sterling fingers continued to caress the back of the child’s skull, softly tousling the girl’s hair as she gave voice to her thoughts, clearly placing all blame for her misfortune squarely upon the Canadian killers shoulders. It was, admittedly, a logical conclusion and many would have difficulty in arguing against the gamines statement. Hull’s cerebrations however was decidedly dissimilar to the majority of humanity, his photographic memory ensured every experience left its mark and his sadistic tendencies had inspired an almost savant level of corkscrew reasoning.
In short, Hull was not about to allow the girl to find solace in her thoughts.
“hmm, I suppose I could give you partial credit for that.” He mused thoughtfully as his he brought his hand about to the girls face and carefully wiped away the trail of tears marring the marring the petit gamines features, while his other hand swept out of the gamines visual range and twitched for briefest of moments, argent fingers shifting position to a more suitable as the crimson utility knife vanished and was rapidly replaced by a frosted glass bottle emblazoned with the world renowned coca cola logo. The chilled container was then brought into Katrina’s view and the cap deftly unscrewed before the bottle was tilted towards the ingénue’s lips in a silent offering. When they had first met the petulant adolescent had rejected the thallium laced beverage, apparently based on nothing more than morals, now however things were… different to say the least, and it would take no great of imagination for one to suspect the child may have now changed her mind.
In either case once the gamine had made her decision the toxic libation was idly placed beside the girls head atop the same cement construct to which she was bound and the sinister wanderer resumed his lecturer as he gently rested a hand against the child’s face and softly traced a path down the to the adolescents jaw, his fingers then moving to follow the natural curvature of her neck before ghosting along the length of her outstretched arm as he spoke in a kind tone. “It is all too easy to blame ones misfortune on another Katrina, ultimately though it is nothing more than a pitiful excuse to avoid responsibility for one’s own actions. Think for a moment, how did you get here? I didn’t drag you from your bed in the middle of the night, nor did I threaten or intimidate, you followed me of your own accord, why was that?”
By the time he finished speaking Hull’s hand had come encompass the gamines own, argent fingers curled lightly around frail fist in an almost paternal manner while his thumb lightly brushed up and down the back of the ingénues palm. The simple gesture did not last long however, as the twisted anarchist abruptly released his grip and began to trail back down the adolescents arm, upon reach the child’s elbow though he paused and turned to face the girl as best he could from his position. “Well Katrina, do you have an answer?”
The gamine did not respond immediately, whether her silence was an act of refusal or simply a last minute attempt to collect her thoughts was unclear, however Hull would not have cared either way, he had no intention of allowing the girl to drag events out in an effort to avoid his ministrations and so, without any more than sigh to signal his actions the truculent traveler placed the feel of his palm against the gamines elbow wordlessly shot his form forward, tearing the muscles in the child’s limb as he effortlessly ruptured the joint leaving the arm all but useless.
Water and carbon dioxide, perhaps some of the simplest materials in existence, yet from these basic compounds an unimaginable number of combinations are possible which, when correctly contrived, can lead to the phenomenal event known as life, the creation of an entity capable of storing and expending energy for it’s own purposes. Such creations are inevitably small to begin with, however they soon become the foundation of the next corner stone of life; multicellular organisms capable of interpreting their environment and using the information to alter their future. A creature capable of crafting its own destiny… an incredible concept. The story does not end there however, for there is one more step to achieve, the last page in the story thus far; consciousness, the ability to recognize that one is capable of shaping its future and therefore itself. With sentience attained all manner of things are possible, the curse of such awareness however is that every individual is unique, each with their own dreams, desires and drive, and so if no two individuals are the same it becomes inevitable that eventually there shall arise an individual who wishes nothing more than destruction.
A man who simply wants to watch the world burn.
Fortuitously for life in general however such a point has not yet been reached, not entirely at least, for although Hull possessed no reverence for any life beyond his own, the malicious murderer did hold a deep loathing of boredom and if all life were to be extinguished what would be left? A barren wasteland incapable of providing the entertainment the deranged anarchist so thoroughly enjoyed, thus while the foreign fiends actions were typically sadistic and sinister in nature they were never on a global, or even national scale. In Hull’s eyes all of life was a game, a game where nothing mattered because nothing was important, yet in order to fully enjoy a game one needed the appropriate tools, which for Hull was his hands and, by extension, his arms.
And so, as the twisted traveler towered over the defenseless brunette with weapon in hand he found himself strangling his instinctive desire to simply thrust the tazer into the pale girls slender neck, instead indulging the small level of curiosity within his deranged psyche as he listened to the seemingly concussed girl outline her offers and… well, diplomacy was not her strong suit, still the brunettes struggles to free herself were entertaining, even more so when the subtle whisper of tearing cloth caused her to freeze, eliciting a dark chuckle from the malevolent anarchist above her which, needless to say this did nothing to ameliorate the corticated bonemancers mien, yet she managed to refrain from issuing another idle threat, instead actually managing to mention something of interest; a shelter of sorts and though he cared little for the name of the supposed establishment it could have been worse.
Shifting the comatose guard serving as his impromptu seating Hull adjusted his weight to apply an extra measure of pressure to the girls ribs, intending to rob what little air was left in her lungs so as to stop any possible interruptions as he continued to dissemble his nonchalant façade and spoke in an amiable manner.
“A tidy little offer, however I’m rather attached to my limbs so why don’t we go one better? I’ll take care of the little toy on your wrist and, in return, you’ll fix my arm right here, right now.” His eyes momentary traced a path down the visible portions of her bare form and a tenebrous smirk danced across his features before he went on. “…and since I’m feeling generous, if you get my arm working properly I’ll even take care of your little wardrobe malfunction, so what do you say? Do we have a deal?”
’Hi-diddle-dee-dum They tried to stop my fun A set of shackles to halt my glee A pair of guards in case I flee A lovely effort but I’ll soon be free’
The asinine aria flowed silently through the chaotic expanse of the sinister slaughterers deranged mind with little more than a low hum escaping the former soldiers lips as he rested his head against the vibrating metallic wall which comprised his current cell, durable though the vehicle may be it was clear that such resilience had come at the cost of comfort, in this particular instance the apparent lack of any and all suspension, either that or the current driver was taking pains to meet each and every pothole, crack and dead cat littering the road. Whatever the cause the end result left the ill-conceived SWAT vehicle rattling with more force than a tin can over a cobble street making balance something of a trial for all parties.
Despite the distorted equilibrium though the exposed bonemancer somehow succeeded in spitting across the length of van, striking the corner of the twisted travelers lips, venemous emerald eyes narrowed as the demented wanderer raised his bound arms to wipe away, a low hiss of pain escaping his throat as the action aggravated his butchered arm. In spite of the impromptu first aid he had conducted moments before his arrest the anarchists injury was far from copacetic; blood had already soaked through the bandages and was steadily creeping down his arm. He could still control his fingers, however anything above his wrist was, for all intents and purposes, dead meaning he could do little more than swing the wounded limb and hope his hand came in contact with something.
Such thoughts however were better reserved for another time, he needed to focus upon the present, how could he best instill a touch of chaos and turn the current situation to his advantage? One option would be to assault the two SWAT members himself however considering his state it was unlikely things would go in his favour; even if he managed to take down the first one the rocking of the van would leave him in an unfavourable position to deal with the second guard. An alternative would be to somehow goad the corticated brunette into attacking him, the girl had already displayed a rather volatile temper and despite her bonds being somewhat more restrictive than his own the former soldier was confident he could provide the woman with suitable motivation.
There was also a third possibility; he could simply play the role of wounded malfeasant and hope his condition secured him professional medical treatment once the van finally completed its journey, considering their current progress however it could take some time, yet it was by far the simplest choice for it required nothing from the macabre murderer beyond remaining in his seat. There would be no need to further exacerbate his wound, little to no chance of death, all he needed was to… sit still and… stay silent… for an indefinite period of time… it was easy.
Easy, but boring.
"Keep it up and I'll rip your eyes out,"
A pained gasp followed the futile threat as the guard across from Hull rammed his elbow into the brunettes ribs which left the woman doubled over as she panted to regain her breath. Slowly twisting his head to avoid drawing the attention situated upon the corticated female Hull’s viridian eyes shifted to the bare bonemancer, momentarily taking in her rather ragged appearance before following the girls furious gaze and briefly pondering the lewd individual opposite the brunette. It was all too clear what the man had done to attract the woman’s animosity, though to be fair the girl’s current wardrobe malfunction likely would have had her snapping at anyone who dared glance in her direction. In any case the guards licentious behavior provided the Canadian killer with an amusing opportunity, a malevolent grin spread across the former soldiers features as he lowered his arms into his lap and began to hum at a more audible volume which swiftly attracted the notice of both SWAT members and caused them to regard the twisted anarchist with cautious curiosity right until he started singing.
”Hi-diddle-dee-dee I’m certain you’ll agree A pair of chains and lack of clothes A kinky whore no matter the pose”
The crass ditty died after the first verse having achieved its desired effect as both guards made mild sounds of amusement while the disrobed brunette looked almost feral in her anger but sadly made no move to unleash her barely suppressed anger. Such patience and self control would have been admirable… had it lasted more than three seconds, Hull however possessed no desire to complain and simply grinned as the enfettered girl stumbled to her feet and smashed her skull against the lascivious guards nose. The sickening crunch of bone was clearly audible over the vehicles engine and as the brunette fell back to the floor he saw that she had done a rather admirable job of breaking her targets nose, victory however was short lived for even as the one guard reeled in pain the man’s partner swiftly leaped into action and attempted to subdue the irate bonemancer.
Blinking momentarily Hull smirked as his deranged mind took in the newly formed chaos even as his body sprang into action. The moment the second guard occupied himself in wrestling with the disrobed brunette the sinister slaughterer had brushed his argent fingers against the smooth surface of his bonds, immediately banishing the metallic restraints and giving his limbs free reign of motion, or as much as could be allowed with one functioning arm. With his hands free dispatching the guard beside him proved to be all too easy; the man had still been dazed and had both hands covering his broken nose, leaving him in no shape to defend himself when the foreign fiends hand snaked out and buried a hurriedly summoned switchblade into the man’s eye
"A little help would be nice!"[/color]
Hull sneered as he spared a glance down towards the brunettes writhing form, the girl had been none too kind when she’d ripped his bones from his flesh and so he saw little need to rush to her rescue, still he had no real desire to fight the remaining SWAT member by himself when he only possessed one functioning arm. Idly withdrawing his knife from the corpse of the first guard the Canadian killer leaned back, preparing to aim a kick at the remaining officer when his eyes were drawn to an onyx device clipped to the man’s belt and a cruel smirk slipped across the twisted travelers features as he swiftly shifted his position and used his uninjured arm to relieve the struggling SWAT member of his tazer without notice.
“You know, for all the negative press, I’ve heard these really aren’t that bad and that all you get is a slight tingling sensation.”
Deftly closing his fingers around the trigger the device crackled into life as the river of current surged between the two metal prongs with a threatening hum which was audible even over the growling of the vans engine. “Then again, I’ve also heard that Chuck Norris’s tears can cure cancer, so what do I know?” Without further ado the ex-soldiers hand whipped out and ran the tazer prongs into the officers neck, delivering an unhealthy degree of voltage into the guards body which promptly played havoc with the man’s nervous system, causing his limbs to spasm wildly and an agonized scream wrenched itself from the officers throat as Hull gleefully applied the weapon far longer than necessary. When at last the tazer was deactivated the malevolent wanderer unceremoniously sat down upon the unconscious SWAT member, thereby pinning the corticated female beneath him. A false cheeriness entered the anarchists as he leaned over the guards comatose form turned his emerald gaze to the brunettes own hazel orbs.
“The time has come.” The madman said. “To talk of things mundane: of blood, and death, and broken limbs, of revenge, and pain, and why I should even help and whether there is anything to gain”
((OOC: godmodding done with prior approval from Isabel.))
---
Things could, admittedly, be going somewhat smoother than they currently were; parked in the middle of a highway in a stolen NYPD cruiser with a barely dressed berserker bonemancer capable of literally clawing you to death would not meet most people's definition of a good day... well, assuming most people didn't posses some type of kinky fetish. In any case the point, sadly not literally but metaphorically, was that Hull was having a blast, again metaphorically. After all from the demented wanderers perspective it wasn't every day that one was able to acquire an ample supply of toxic material, confront a pseudo maid with a hidden exhibitionist streak, fall from a multi story building with relatively little damage and then fight for one's life against the same pseudo maid. Today was turning out to be anything but dull and considering the relatively minor injuries, bullet wound not withstanding, he had acquired thus far the Canadian anarchist was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Then things changed.
It was quite an impressive leap if one stopped to think about it; by the time the brunette bonemancer had noticed that she was attached to the steering wheel Hull had managed to crawl/maneuver most of his body into the passenger seat, by the time the disrobed girl had succeeded in removing the glass from the door on her side the malicious murderer had arranged himself into a sitting positioned and kicked open the jammed passenger door. The twisted traveler had been less than a second from diving too freedom but the stripped brunette had been swifter still; lunging through the broken of the drivers door the bloodied bonemancer managed to leverage her entire upper half into vehicle, leaving her legs dangling over the outer side of the door just as her questing fingers found purchase in the foreign killers injured shoulder which brought everything to a sudden, and rather agaonizing halt.
The experience , if it must be described in literal works, would be akin to having a steel pole instantly welded to one's shoulder, any thoughts of escape or temporary freedom became laughable concepts as the wounded woman's hand refused to release its grip, Just as the former soldier was contemplating the removal of the meddlesome limb the pain set in as the multitude of osseous shards began resonating to some unknown signal, burrowing deeper into blood and flesh, tearing muscle with indiscriminate ease until an agonizing grating sensation racked the killers body as a portion of the shards tunneled into his shoulder blade while the rest sunk further into the anarchists flesh. This was then followed by the sensation of fire racing across the ex-soldiers shoulder as the brunettes hand began to follow the path of the shards worming their way through wounded tissue until fingers brushed against the top of the scapula and the burning agony was replaced with a torrent of grinding pain as the bone began to shrink under the bonemancers touch and rapidly dissipated as it was absorbed.
It should, perhaps be mentioned, that Hull was far from silent during these proceedings, on the contrary he was rather vocal, issuing every expletive he heard from birth in addition to a few he simply made up on the spot. Psychological studies have found that swearing is actually therapeutic and can in some cases reduce pain, this was not one of those times, still pain was not an alien concept to the Canadian killer, his previous occupation had almost made it a requirement and so he'd been taught how to deal with it thus the foreign fiend had experienced no hesitation in summoning a knife and driving it into the brunettes offending hand... only for it to strike a glancing blow as it skirted off a plate of bone lodged just underneath the skin. Repeated attempts yielded no further success and so the deranged bomber swiftly changed tactics as he replaced the knife with a second pair of handcuffs and wasted no time in wrapping one end around the girl's wrist and the other to joint between the chair main body and headrest thereby preventing the brunette from digging her hand any deeper into his flesh.
This turned out to be a rather ill conceived idea as the restrained bonemancer than endeavored to utilize her osseous shards to drag the anarchists humerous up through his arm. The experience was, to put it mildly, excruciating beyond belief and only the neighboring wail of sirens drowned out the former soldier cry of pain. Still though, Hull had no intention of conceding and so rapidly attempted to put a halt to painful proceedings by swiftly inserting his own into his wound, thereby managing to sever whatever connection the woman had possessed over his flesh and finally allowing him to tumble out of the wrecked vehicle, onto the asphalt... and under the barrel of a gun.
"Hands over your head pal."[/color]
Weary viridian eyes struggled to glance upwards at the owner of the gun, however there was no real reason to glance past the knees, all the NYPD uniforms were essentially the same after all, even down to the shoes. Still though eye contact was always important for a look can sometime communicate more than words ever could, and so it was that Hull glanced up at the officer standing over him and sent the man a look full of weariness, disbelief and no small amount of pain. "Yeah sure, pull the other it's got bells on, what the hell took you f*ckers so long? She nearly killed me!" The last part of the killers retort was injected with additional venom which caused the other man to startle slightly and his gun to drop a fraction as his eyes flickered towards the drivers side of the car where the chained bonemancer, dressed only in a rather ragged and revealing shirt, was vainly struggling against her bonds.
'How the hell did he not see her first? I don't care if he parked on my side he can still through a damn window.'
"Jesus Christ."[/color] the words were barely audible as the astonished officer took a step back and hurriedly withdrew his from its place on his shoulder while switching his aim to the bound brunette.
"Hey Sarge, you gotta see this." The voice echoed from the other side of the stolen police cruiser, from his position on the floor Hull could just make out the feet of the other officer and was momentarily tempted to fire a pair of rounds into the oblivious mans ankles, however considering his current condition he quickly rethought the idea despite its appeal.
"Corporal Wedge get the hell away from her! She's a damn mutie and she's killed more officers than you have years."[/color] The commands were forced out in a barely authoritative yell as the sergeant quickly began murmuring into his radio for some type of support even as he kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the girls face... for about ten seconds, then the man's gaze dropped significantly lower.
"But sarge, she's all tied up, she aint going anywhere"[/color] The response was issued in a questioning and dimwitted tone which whilst carrying the cadence one would attribute to life on a farm. despite this though his words were logical and judging by the stance of his feet the corporal had his weapon drawn and ready for action. "If she was going to get loose she would've done something by now."[/color]
The discussion went back and forth for a few moments, with the sergeant attempting to impose authority he clearly didn't have while the corporal repeatedly asserting that the bonemancer was largely harmless in her current state and if she were going to "kill them all", she would have done so by now. Hull, for his part was largely left alone, mainly due to his disabled arm and the lack of resistance he put up when the sergeant handcuffed him to a car door in order to walk over to his partner and get a new perspective on things. The former solider had no qualms with this as it allowed him a few minutes with which to dismiss the handcuffs and treat injured arm; extracting what shards he could before than applying a light bandage. Just as he as completing the dressing though a new engine heralded the approach of another vehicle and the former soldier swiftly summon the handcuffs and lashed himself to car door once again just a SWAT van rounded the corner.
A quartet of armed and armored officers emerged from the back and swiftly spilt up, two heading for the passenger side of the car while the other two went to drivers side. Again Hull was largely ignored after his apparent restraints were acknowledged though a brief reprimanded was directed towards the sergeant for failing to indicate the presence of two suspects. In either case the former soldier was free to observe as the leading SWAT member unhooked a metallic collar from the back of his belt and, with little to warning surged forward to slap the device on the girl's wrist.
The application of the strange collar seemed to be a signal to relax as all the armed officers took a collective breath and then gradually set about releasing the bleeding brunette from her bindings. The moment the woman had been extracted from the car however her arms were swiftly wrestled behind her back and locked in place with an obsidian pair of restrains, her feet were likewise enfettered with a rather durable looking pair of manacles which prevented the girl from taking anything but short strides. She was then all but frog marched into the back of the van.
During this time Hull was questioned by the initial two officers on the scene and, despite his portests that he'd simply found the stolen NYPD vehicle in the possession of the disrobed brunette the sadistic slaughter was also marched into the van and placed under the watchful guard of two armed SWAT members.
An overly despondent sigh escaped the malicious murderers lips as the trembling child beneath his hands answered his honest inquiry with a single statement laced in overwhelming ignorance. It was, admittedly, the expected response but still, routine was ever so dull, a little creativity wouldn't have hurt girl... well, relatively speaking. She may have lost a finger or perhaps a piece of her ear but it would have been something different; a taste of variety to add a touch of spice to both their lives and ward off the ever impending sense of taedium. However the shivering adolescent had made no such effort and thus it was left to the Canadian killer to take control as he always did and introduce a pinch of piquancy to the proceedings and, verily, what could be more exquisite than the terror and despair of another?
"I'm disappointed puppet, I had hoped you to be a bright girl, clearly that is not the case."
The torturers tone held all the comforting cadence of a crestfallen father yet it still retained the subtle nuances of the sadistic anarchists twisted persona which left the words coated in indistinct iniquity which was brought into sudden clarity as the foreign travelers wrist slowly shifted, causing the cold metal within his grasp to gradually gouge a scarlet streak though the child's otherwise unmarred flesh. Blood swiftly rose to the surface of the imppiteous wound and began to pool, forming an incarnadine illustration as the noxious nihilist's steady hand deftly directed the aciculate device and sliced an incomplete incision in the shape of a three sided square a into the girls right shoulder blade. Crimson fluid flowed freely at this point, streaming in relucent ruby rivulets down the child's side and the track of her spine, a few wayward droplets even made their way into the tenebrous sewage surging below as the adolescent writhed under the taste of the knife and quivering cries escaped her lips.
"I'm sorry, what was that? I'm afraid I tend to get quite lost in my work, you'll have to speak up in afraid."
shifting away from his current area of operations the sadistic former soldier craned his neck downwards until he caught sight of Katrina's face and in spite of the shadow he himself was casting it was all too easy to distinguish the damp trail of tears which crept down her features from the edges of her ashen eyes. A thoughtful hum escaped the deranged wanderer as he crouched down once more and placed left arm atop the quivering adolescents skull, locking it in place whilst his hand crept across her tear filled physiognomy until his fingers positioned themselves on either side of the girls right eye, prying the eyelid open and forcing her to meet the virulent viridian gaze of her captor as he calmly drew the utility knife towards her slate shaded iris, bringing the crimson stained blade to within a millimeter of contact before it paused, remaining perfectly quiescent for innumerable seconds before rapidly darting to the inner corner of the child's eye and catching a newly released tear just as it formed.
There was no cut, no scratch, the cardinal blade never touched the adolescents eye, though it had come within a hairs breadth of doing so. Yet now that the weapon had fulfilled its purpose and collected it's due so to speak it was quickly withdraw and smoothly brought upwards to the sinister slaughters own emerald orbs for closer inspection. At length however the foreign killer spoke in a soft, almost detached tone which hinted at the barest of compassion, yet it was nothing more than an affectation. "I suppose you must think me rather harsh, however it cannot be helped, you brought this upon yourself and the punishment cannot be avoided. Still... education is part of the process. if you recognize why you're here then perhaps we can move on."
Finally releasing the pressure on the trembling child's head Hull leant back to give the girl some space as he lowered the utility knife out of sight in order to craft some misconception of safety while he ran his free hand rested gently at the back of her head. "Well Katrina, can you tell me why you're here?"
Incoherent mutters escaped the malicious murderer’s lips as viridian orbs tracked his troublesome passenger through the rear view mirror, taking note of the fresh array of wounds decorating her the right side of her face and the crimson blood flowing over her skin, gradually trailing down her neck to the white collar of her shirt which was quickly stained pink and then scarlet. Due to the large amount of oxygen required by the brain the skull is surrounded by an intricate weave of blood vessels and due to this head wounds have a rather nasty habit of bleeding quite profusely if left to their own devices. Still the brunette hardly seemed to notice the her injuries as she stared open mouthed at the back of the Canadian travelers head, apparently the girl was having second thoughts about her request once her situation had been redefined for her.
“I ain’t got all day girly, either get out or shut up, I have better things to do then deal with you.”
A sudden revving of an engine behind the parked police cruiser along with a series of hostile horn honks signified that other commuters were less than satisfied with the current state of affair as traffic rapidly began to back up behind the stolen vehicle. Still the impatient actions seemed to penetrate the bonemancers shell-shocked state as she finally began moving under her own power as she positioned herself to face the door and an ivory spike slipped forth from the palm of her hand, a maneuver which caused the bombers eyes to narrow as his eyes failed to spot any blood trail accompanying the action. The brunette was clearly proficient with her mutation, if nothing else that increased her potential threat level, still though provided he himself stayed within the confines of the driver’s seat there would be relatively little danger. After all the vehicle had been designed to withstand gunfire, surely it would be able to endure the efforts of a half dressed brunette?
As the back window shattered in a rather impressive shower of glass Hull swiftly revised his estimate of the car’s worth as he twisted his head in order to catch a glance of the girl shimmying herself out of the broken window, presumably in order to crawl out onto the asphalt of the surrounding road. That assumption however was rapidly dispersed the moment a petite palm slammed against the deranged bombers own window, a jagged spike colliding against the reinforced glass with sufficient force to weaken the overall structure and create a twisted pattern of cracks which weaved to together, forming an almost bizarre resemblance to a spiders web. The foreign fiend was given almost no time to appreciate such a comparison though as a second strike rapidly followed and burst through the fractured glass causing miniscule razor fragments to rain down upon the sinister killer even as he threw his upper half into the passenger seat.
With one arm covering his head and the other still partially gripping the steering wheel the former soldier was unaware of the splinters of bone emerging from the brunettes hand until they imbedded themselves in his upper shoulder and a string of expletives escape his throat as his free hand swiftly slammed down upon the command the short array of buttons wedged on the side of the door which immediately caused the shattered window to roll down, effectively trapping the bonemancers hand in place long enough for a shiny pair of handcuffs to be slapped across the petit wrist and then the steering wheel in quick succession. In most cases such a measure would be more than enough to immobilize an individual, however considering the girl’s mutation Hull was unwilling to take many chances and so he hurriedly crawled over into the passenger seat in a bid to exit the car.
Despite his grinning visage and artificially cheerful demeanor the malicious murderer was not entirely satisfied for a number of reasons, one of which was the fact that he although he recognized and acknowledged how his current means of transportation had transpired he possessed very little recollection relating to the precise series of events responsible for him driving down the middle of a highway halfway through the afternoon. There was also the additional matter of his current passenger aka captive who, in spite of offering a rather attractive view, was rather lacking in terms of a bedside manner. She was also, apparently, a rather sore loser; and though at times such a trait can be entertaining the anarchists current situation only served to make such behavior incredibly irritating as the metallic cage behind his head rattled obstreperously with a piercing pitch which resonated to the centre of the sinister killers skull.
However, as any parent or deranged anarchist knows the last thing you do is pay attention to a child in the middle of a tantrum, thus to counter the twisted traveler counted the brunettes juvenile outburst by reaching out an argent tipped hand towards the cars main console, a few brief seconds were spent testing the various functions as switches were flipped, buttons pressed and dials adjusted. The cumulative result of such tinkering was an interesting and thankfully distracting display of electronics as headlight flashed, sirens wailed, computer screens flashed and then, finally, the radio activated and something resembling music filled the car, drowning out the majority of the bonemancers shrieks and threats as Hull himself began to hum and dance along with the song whilst taking full advantage of the view the girl was presenting as she repeatedly lifted her legs to kick against the cage partition.
Things were not going precisely as planned, however as the malicious murderer rarely bothered with such things as forward thinking this was perhaps to be expected. The demented wandered needed an hour or so to himself to process the aberrant repository of recollections remaining within his mindscape. They felt almost entirely alien and conveyed a sense of unease that, although not debilitating was enough to corrode the former soldiers customarily optimistic outlook on existence. Add to the situation the homicidal eye candy in the backseat and matters grew complicated; from what he had seen of the brunets mutation earlier she was able to manipulate her bones, however the ability seemed somewhat limited as she had yet to craft any attire or sizeable weapons, possibly the bonemancer had depleted her natural energy reserves, however she still possessed the capability to shred a tire and thus Hull was reluctant to release her.
Just as the twisted anarchist was debating the probability of success in persuading the corticated brunette to exit the car whilst at full speed an alien material swiftly snaked around his throat and the through the caged partition, effectively forming a garrote which proceeded to constrict and shut down the sinister travelers airways, cutting off his melodies contribution mid song as a strangle gasp escaped his lips and one hand immediately released the steering wheel to force its way between the unnatural wire and his throat with only minimal success. The consequence of this abrupt asphyxiation was that the police swerved wildly out of control, momentarily sliding into the opposing lane of traffic, lightly clipping a passing van and generating a shower of sparks as metal met metal, then the vehicles passed each other and the stolen police car swerved back to its appropriate lane.
The human body can survive a full three minutes without oxygen, however that is only under ideal conditions and excessive training. Hull, in comparison had roughly 30 seconds at best and it would only require 5 to send the vehicle hurtling into a concrete barrier, neither option was preferable and thus the former soldier settled for a third alternative; rapid deceleration by means of braking. Harshly. The car careened yet again, this time however its path led to a slightly safer destination as it came to halt along the right shoulder. Almost instantly the pressure surrounding his throat abated and the malicious murderer was able to fit his left hand between the noose and his neck while his right shifted swiftly to the steering wheel as he reapplied the gas in an effort to get the machine moving; his only true advantage currently was his control of the car and that only lasted for as long as the vehicle possessed momentum.
“If you want to die just say so, I’ll be glad to help, however I’m rather partial to breathing so leave me out of it.” As he spoke the sadistic wanderers left hand traversed the length of the cord about his neck, locating both its beginning and ending point on his side of the cage. The moment he ceased speaking his right hand abandoned the steering the wheel for a few precious seconds, thereby permitting him to simultaneously grip both ends with argent tipped fingers. The moment the slaughterers silver skin came into contact with the noose section at both ends vanished, effectively allowing the former soldier to rip the offending item from his neck and throw it to his feet as he inhaled deeply before a new thought struck him and he brought the car to yet another screeching halt
“You want out? Fine! Go on get! I’m sure some lonely truck driver would love a little company, hell I’m sure the school kids would enjoy the show too, it’s about the time for them to be heading home. Well? Are you getting out or not?”
There are numerous advantages in operating a vehicle specifically designed to pursue and essentially drive other car off the road in a manner akin to a cheetah chasing down its prey; one was a noticeably heavier reinforced frame which lent the machine much needed weight and allowed to plow through various obstacles, policemen for example, with little to no trouble. Another benefit was the V8 engine located under the hood which allowed the vehicle to accelerate at a rate which surpassed all but the top tier of privately owned automobiles, still being able to evolve from a stationary start to 60mph in under 9 seconds was rather useful, even more so because it meant one could go from 0 – 45 in about 5 seconds which, for a twisting back alley was more than enough. Perhaps the greatest advantage of possessing an appropriated NYPD cruiser though was the built in radio and computer, complete with GPS which allowed the driver to listen and track the movements of any pursuers.
There was however a rather vital flaw to such a machine and that was in its basic design, whoever had first crafted the vehicles specification clearly had no knowledge of how cars were meant to operate for they had foolishly included an automatic transmission in the design plans. It took away all the fun it really did, it forced the driver to rely entirely upon the judgment of a minute piece of circuitry for a shift in gear. Such a limitation drastically reduced the drivers ability to operate the machine and use the engines full potential. Such an oversight would, under more mundane circumstances, have caused Hull no small amount of vexation and likely would have led to him making a brief sojourn to the nearest manufacturing facility so that his dissatisfaction could be communicated in a memorable manner.
Today however was far from mundane, what had initially started as a cursory scouting and supply expedition had rapidly revolved into something far more intricate and entertaining, indeed the former soldier was currently being to relive the events of the past few hours as his mind attempted to re-assimilate the information which had somehow been temporarily removed from his memory. As the human mind is only designed to interpret events as they happen on a moment by moment basis the sudden inundation of new data required significant mental processing power and as such the twisted anarchist was only barely aware of his present situation as his body functioned on autopilot; haphazardly directing the speeding police cruiser out of the back alley and onto the multilane road which served as the primary transportation into and out of the city’s industrial district, managing to avoid lethal collisions only by luck and fortune.
Survival instincts are powerful things though and in the case of the Canadian killer acted as form of emergency subroutine which immediately pulled the sinister wanderers thoughts back to the present the moment a pair of spiked hands curled softly about his neck and a light but tempestuous feminine voice imperiously stated its desire to leave. Now in such a situation the majority of individuals would likely be inclined to acquiesce to the request, Hull however was not most people and thus his reaction was somewhat… unorthodox; a short cackle of laughter issued forth from the confines of his throat as toxic emerald eyes glanced up into the rear view mirror and took note of the scantily clad brunette, immediately recognizing her and sending the malevolent foreigner into a burst of laughter just as his right foot collided with the gas pedal sending a surge of fuel into the engine which resulted in the vehicle accelerating with sufficient force that his impetuous assailant was taken by surprise and thrown backwards into her seat.
Undoubtedly such was perhaps not the most prudent course of action, however the demented anarchist had always had a problem with authority. It was an issue which had surfaced early in his military career but one which had been subdued by his benefits he received, there were very few occupations which legalized mass murder after all. In this instance however there was no such perk and as such the former solider had seen no reason to abide by the bonemancers command. Admittedly the sinister traveler’s efforts had left him with a series of aggravating gouges in his neck, however none of them were life threatening and thus were inconsequential compared to the advantage he’d just gained, which was the ability to reach back and slam shut the sliding caged partition separating the front and back sections of the police cruiser.
“Sorry about that, I panicked for a moment and forgot who was in control.” The sentence was delivered in a tone of false cheerfulness as the pernicious anarchist glanced into the rear view mirror once again and idly reached up a hand to adjust its angle. “Hey, do you think you could spread your spread your legs a little?” He swerved violently around another car, “Much appreciated.”
Confusion was not a sensation Hull was accustomed to feeling, the malicious anarchist had long since ceased his attempts to make sense of the things which occurred in the world around him, after all when someone is capable of fusing with a bulldozer or summoning gale force winds explanations begin to defy a normal persons perception of reality, thus the Canadian killer had simply stooped caring and merely accepted events as they occurred it tended to make life far simpler when all decisions boiled down to the basic equation of: X and Y have become Z, how can Z be turned into profit? With profit translating into a variety of things from entertainment to basic survival. It was a formula which had served the twisted anarchist well for years and caused him to become adept at adapting to new and unexpected situations.
In spite of this however the malevolent traveler could not dismiss or even suppress the sudden tumult raging across his mindscape because, for the first time in his life the insidious wanderers memory had failed him. The former soldier was utterly unable to recall where he was or what he had been doing, for one blessed with a photographic memory from birth such an experience was, unsettling, to say the least. The last thing the sadistic slaughterer could recall with any certainty was his initial approach on the facility and the inhumation of a dimwitted guard, there were other additional images within his mind; a hazed sequence of events which involved decapitated heads and some type of poison however these lacked the natural clarity of his typical memories and thus the malicious bomber was reluctant to trust them to any significant degree for as the seconds passed the images became even more distinct as they faded into obscurity.
‘What the hell is happening to me?’
The thought surfaced to the top of the swirling pandemonium which was the sinister travelers thoughts as perplexed viridian eyes glanced left and right in order to scan his surroundings and perhaps discern his predicament from the context of events occurring before him. The first item which caught the bewildered wanderer’s attention was the blatant retort of gunfire echoing across the open expanse of land which looked to be some sort of loading area or parking lot. Conveniently however none of the firearms had directed themselves towards the former soldiers location thereby allowing him the luxury of slipping into the role of observer without concern for his own immediate safety.
Wanton violence and destruction however, while intrinsically satisfying failed to answer any of the sadistic foreigners questions and so his attention shifted to items which were somewhat closer to home, in particular the exposed brunette currently being castigated by another individual clearly in some position of authority if the gun and badge on his belt were any indication. The mans attention appeared to be solely focused on the curled naked female and although typically Hull would have made use of such a distraction to place a knife in the unknown officers ribs, in this instance however the anarchists emerald eyes paused on the brunettes scarlet features; she seemed familiar somehow yet he couldn’t for the life of him recall where he might have seen her. It was a most aggravating experience which was only compounded when the ex-soldier found himself unable to recall any item within his internal inventory.
“Izzy! Stay down!" [/color]
The exclamation carried clearly despite the constant gunfire and other general destructive mayhem occurring in the background of the chaotic battlefield and Hull found mirroring the anonymous officer as he twisted his form to glance at the source of the cry, only to have his eyes fly open in shock as an unconscious SWAT member sailed towards him at a decidedly uncomfortable velocity. Instinct took over as the malicious murderers ingrained reflexes kicked his entire body tensed as muscles contracted and then released as he dived to the right just as a blurred form barreled past him and collided with the ivory barbed wall which encircled the rapidly deteriorating KP facility. There was a cringe worthy thud as the sound of impaled flesh resulted from the unnatural collision and Hull spared only a moment to glance back at the strange mutant who had originally launched the unfortunate human before scrambling over to the fresh corpse and swiftly worked to relieve the cadaver of its weapons and other items. Irritatingly however his mutation refused to heed his call and thus the former soldier was forced to remove each item by hand, unhooking the MP5 from the cord which attached to the deceased SWAT members belt and rapidly relieving the carcass of its excess ammunition.
With his acquisition completed the sadistic wanderer hurriedly darted back to the cover provided by the comatose goliath and swiftly set about reloading his new weapon. The odds, admittedly, did not look good; his own mutation appeared to have shut down yet there was a full on brawl occurring between mutants and other armed forced no more than a few feet away. An escape route would have been ideal at this moment, a chance to withdraw and regroup, sadly though that didn’t appear to be an option; the only visible exit was the centerpiece of the battlefield and thus not a desirable stepping stone on his way to freedom. This was the industrial district however and what passed for common sense in this day and age required that most facilities have more than one entrance/exit simply for purposes of logistics, perhaps if he traveled round back he could find…
"Look, I know you don't like me and what I can do, but right now I don't care! Just get yourself clear and get your friend out of here!"[/color]
Hull’s head whipped round as he gave the strange officer a dumbfounded look; friend? Clearly this man knew not who he was addressing, however there was little point in spending time correcting the situation especially with the cacophony of chaos currently playing behind them. Besides the uniformed man had unwittingly proposed a solution to the twisted traveler’s body armor dilemma and one should never look a gift horse in the mouth, in the flank perhaps for that was where the best meat was found but never in the mouth.
“Excellent idea, We’ll just be off then.”
Without waiting for a response from either the disrobed brunette or her apparent acquaintance the insidious Canadian initiated a huddled run as he all but tackled the unsuspecting female and, with a practiced air, gathered her curled form into his arms before then tossing her up and over his shoulder in an impromptu fireman’s carry which left the bonemancers lightly covered chest to rest against the soldiers back and her bare legs to fall against his chest where they were quickly pinned in place by means of an arm wrapping across the back of the knees.
All in all it was a rather well executed maneuver, for it had allowed the deranged foreigner to continue his trajectory without having to slow his pace, the one possible downside however was the fact that the girl had been somewhat lighter than the wanderer had anticipated which had resulted in him tossing the brunette with slightly more force than was necessary, the result of this was that the decorticated bonemancer spent a brief moment inverted and, due to the effects of gravity, the slightly stained shirt she had managed to acquire a few seconds ago rode down to the middle of her back thereby exposing her from below the waist and granting a rather… intriguing view to anyone who happened to be facing the appropriate direction.
Such a development was not lost on Hull, however considering his current situation and short term amnesia he was not truly in any position to either appreciate or correct the view the girl was giving. In fact for all intents and purposes this outcome was beneficial for now the brunette not only functioned as an impromptu form of shielding from stray bullets or other projectiles, she also fulfilled the role of distraction; for anyone intending to halt the sinister killers progress would, at some point, have to get in front of him and upon doing so they would be met with a sight which, at the very least, could be termed diverting.
Moving right along however the former soldier lost no time in swiftly making a rapid retreat as he sprinted around the back of the facility in search of an alternative t. Admittedly if the police were present than it was likely that his escape route would be blocked or at least under heavy inspection, however there were ways around such things, providing one had the appropriate tools of course. All he needed was some form of vehicle, a truck, a tanker, anything which could-
The Canadians footsteps faltered as he at last escaped the adapted’s nullifying field, events from the past few hours immediately came surging back to him as his mutation reactivated itself and his memory’s restored themselves in the blink of an eye. The end result was a momentary neurological overload which wiped the twisted travelers mind for a split second, the sensation passed as rapidly as it arrived though the insidious anarchist was able to maintain his balance on his next step as his autonomous functions rapidly reapplied themselves. The murderers thoughts however were not so easily dealt with for as his body worked on automatic the killers mind was a raging torrent desperately seeking to disperse itself, nothing like this had ever occurred before and as such the foreigners synapses were working overtime to make sense of the new influx of information.
The end result of this was that when the malicious bomber finally arrived at his intended exit he paid hardly any thought to the police swarming around the chain link gate as he stretched one had out before and reflexively withdrew the one vehicle in his inventory. There was no flash of light, no burst of sound or generation of heat; one moment the ex-soldiers open palm had faced thin air and the next it had been resting against the cool metal of an NYPD squad car. The officers guarding the chain gate then had several precious seconds to react as Hull prepared the car, barely even thinking about what he was doing the sinister wanderer yanked open the back door and drivers side and carelessly tossed his ungracious guest into the back. The still overloaded bomber then threw himself behind the steering wheel as his fingers deftly worked on the cars wiring and brought the engine to life before then slamming a foot down on the accelerator and directing the stolen police cruiser through the gate.
It truly was amazing what a little rudimentary DIY knowledge could achieve in today’s world; technology could achieve wonders that would not even have been imagined half a century ago. Infrastructure alone had come leaps and bounds compared to what it was a mere decade ago, in spite of this though some things never change; politicians were still corrupt, famine continued to plague the world issue and sewers remained desolate walkways, traversed only by the downtrodden and the amoral. A fact which caused the anarchistic traveler no small amount of satisfaction as his venomous gaze traversed the filth stained walls revealed by the fractured beams of light emanating from the discarded torch atop the concrete bridge. A single glance told the malevolent murderer all he needed, the various grime and fauna adorning the concave walls only reached chest height; a dangerous level to be sure and one that indicated the city’s sewer system was beginning to strain under the sheer size of the population. Still such an issue wasn’t the poisoner’s problem, it would require a significant level of rainfall for the turpid tunnel to reach anything near capacity and the forecast had called for clear skies.
“Well now, what’s this?”
The twisted wanderers cadence conveyed a clear undercurrent of cheerfulness as his argent fingers summoned another illumination device and adroitly directed the new beam of light towards what could, at a stretch, be deemed the right corner of the tunnel. A moderately thick length of wiring appeared to run the entire length of the channel, at this particular section however a retarded rodent was doing its best to chew through the protective obsidian casing around the line, indeed the vulgar vermin was so set in its task that it took no heed of the light cast upon it, nor the malevolent slaughter as he silently approached with an expression of mild interest dancing across his sinister visage as he waited for the inevitable conclusion…
“Shocking.”
The datum was uttered in a tone of quotidian ennui which was completely at odds with the very meaning of the lexeme, indeed the very air which surrounded the malicious wanderer conveyed a sense of floccinaucinihilipilification directed towards the asinine rodent which now lay twitching upon the cool cement of the tunnel floor. The creature, upon closer inspection was also sporting what could, at length, be termed a bad hair day mixed with an aroma of charred flesh which was just barely distinguishable from the odious stench which permeated the sewer system which caused the deranged traveler to shake his head wearily as silver tipped fingers reached out.
“The Brain you are not, still there may be some use to you yet Pinky.”
…
As was previously mentioned a basic knowledge of DIY skills can do wonders for the intrinsic appeal of a location; electrical engineering in particular can do wonders in the correct setting, why with the right tools one can transform even a dilapidated sewer tunnel into a far more practical abode. Hull proceeded to do precisely that; working with nimble hands as he donned a pair of rubber gloves and carefully divided the copper wire into strands which were then haphazardly spliced into the wiring of an ashen power strip. Admittedly it was a somewhat perfunctory effort but the former soldier wasn’t seeking a standing ovation for his efforts, that could come later though, for now all the demented poisoner desired was access to an electrical outlet in order to utilize his more modern equipment.
The moment the cannibalized power strip indicated a power reading the inauspicious wanderer set to work conjuring items from his internal inventory in the manner of a macabre Mary Poppins; a soldering iron, carving pen and automatic drill were just a handful of the objects summoned and placed atop a stained metallic tray beside a slightly disfigured yet malleable floor lamp which was soon twisted and arced until its rays rained downed upon the restrained female form on the impromptu operating table. Shadows danced for a brief moment as light battled against shadows and threw into sudden clarity the pale yellow of the adolescent’s sundress which reached down to just below her knees and blended almost seamlessly with the child’s blonde locks which fell to the middle of her back. Apart from that single item of apparel the girl was completely bare, the alabaster sandals which had previously encased the gamines feet had been removed and discarded when the vindictive traveler had first bound his victims limbs.
“Nhn?”[/color]
Hull’s head snapped upwards and twisted to glance over his shoulder as the mumbled moan reached his keen ears; it seemed his plaything was finally beginning to stir. The former soldier remained hunched over his tools a moment longer, absently rearranging the devices into a more convenient order and placed the metallic tray at the edge of the walkway before abruptly leaping feet first into the flowing current of raw sewage, an act which likely would have left an uninformed audience wondering about the man’s sanity, Hull however had no such concerns; he’d long since ceased any attempts to describe his thought processes by so called “conventional” means and additionally it had been over ten years since he’d last suffered from any kind of illness and thus, rightly or wrongly, the twisted traveler had arrived at the conclusion that his mutation somehow made him immune to such ailments.
“Ah, welcome back, did you enjoy your nap? I would have woken you sooner but I didn’t want to leave you waiting as I got everything ready. Don’t worry though, the fun shall begin shortly.”
The statement was issued in the all too friendly tone of one who is about to significantly enjoy themselves at another’s expense, normally such a cadence would be a clear tocsin to any within earshot of the issuers ill intent, however in Hull’s case the words were not a warning but a promise, a statement of fact which only served to supplement the sinister ambience of the sewer system turned torture chamber.
Standing up to his shins in raw sewage the malicious anarchist was pleasantly surprised to find that the concrete bridge and impromptu table came to just below his ribcage, allowing him a greater freedom of movement that he had originally anticipated as he bent over the supine child and gave her bonds a cursory tug to assure himself of their effectiveness, the former soldier may have been twisted and sadistic but he was rarely careless when it came to activities such as these. He’d already had to chase the child down once after all and he was in no mood to do so again anytime soon. There was, coincidentally, an ulterior motive to such an action; for as the truculent traveler leaned over to test the adolescents restraints his lips came within close proximity of the girls ear allowing him to whisper forth an introduction in a soft intimate tone which had absolutely no place in such a setting.
“Now then my dear, before we begin I’d like to get your name. My own is not important but for…posterity’s sake, it would be, helpful, to have yours… do you understand?”
When the trembling child failed to respond immediately the slaughter’s demeanor instantly shifted; the polite visage abandoned for one of implacable impatience as he drew his viridian eyes down to stare into the girls own ashen orbs with a sinister sneer on his features even as his right hand stretched out towards the metallic off to the side and deftly retrieved the tan soldering iron from its spiral sheath and firmly brought the device down upon the gamines bound hand, leaving it there for a count of five, utterly unmoved by the child’s futile protests as she vainly attempted to withdraw her limb. When at last the soldering iron was replaced the malevolent torturer drew in a breath and produced a handkerchief from thin air and deftly wiped away the adolescents tears with the softest of strokes before continuing.
“I hadn’t intended to use that quite so soon, but I’m afraid you forced my hand, tsk tsk, not getting off to a very good start are we? Let’s try that again shall we puppet? What is your name?”
This time the response was delivered promptly, or what could pass for promptly in between the shuddering breaths which rocked the child’s fragile frame and Hull grinned viciously for they’d barely even started, still there was a part to be played and he couldn’t have the girl abandon all hope just yet, so instead the sadistic wanderer knelt back down into the adolescents view and offered her a simple grin. “A very charming name, I shall do my best to remember it. Now though, it’s time to begin.”
Straightening up once again the former soldier took his time selecting a tool from the tray on his right, argent fingers trailed delicately along across handles and along blades as the sinister anarchist ensured that each item rattled audibly within the confines of cave, for although the child could not see the implements he was about to use she could most certainly hear and often times a child’s imagination could work to craft a terror even he would be hard pressed to match. At length though the twisted traveler selected a utility knife from the collection before leaning back over shivering girl and sweeping a hand lightly up her back, gently parting her blonde hair so that it fell on either side of shoulder instead of covering them. The sight which met the murderers emerald gaze however was not what he had expected for a scarlet trail of partially dried blood extended down from somewhere on the back of the adolescents head to her shoulder blades.
“Oh no, this won’t do, I won’t be able to see what I’m doing, ah well least said soonest mended.”
And with that remorseless remark the Canadian killer swept up the entirety of the gamines golden locks in one hand and roughly pulled the girls hair as high as her neck would allow while his other hand meanwhile extended the length of the utility knife and haphazardly slicing through the aureate strands in a short choppy motion which left the child with less than two inches at the back of her head and a rather significant collection of locks in the former soldiers left hand which were idly released and allowed to drift down and join the rest of city sewage flowing below.
A wet cloth was then applied to the back of the adolescents neck and swept smoothly up to the base of her head and then down to her shoulder blades where it paused briefly, allowing water to pool slightly and trail down the length of the child’s spine. Then there was a barely audible click as the utility knife was retracted to a more suitable length and an instant later cold steel scratched ever so slightly against the soft skin of the girl’s back a hairs breadth above the sundress where it swiftly danced left and then right; easily severing the straps on each shoulder before then returning to the middle of the girls back and swept southwards, effortlessly slicing through the lightweight material as the blade trailed down to the base of the adolescents back.
The meddlesome material was then brushed to either side and the child’s upper under garment dismissed in a similar manner so that nothing was left between the skin on the girls back and the blade in the slaughterers hand except for open air, and even that did not last long as the former soldier brought his knife to bear against the gamines pale skin directly above her right shoulder blade, piercing the skin ever so slightly as a trickle of blood welled up from the wound where the blade was poised.
The slant eyed irritant was fast, the demented anarchist would admit that much; he hadn’t even heard the delusional Asian approach, though that wasn’t saying much considering the amount of chaos currently waging in the background. It really leant a most delightful ambience to the overall scene, punctuated only by the rather abrupt sensation of pain as a fist caromed off the former soldier jaw with sufficient impetus to dislodge the sinister bombers centre of balance, causing him to perform a half pirouette as he stumbled backwards and into the dumpster which currently held what by now should have been a rather lethargic lizard, still there was no harm in adding a little extra weight to the lid, which the malicious murderer promptly did as he planted his hands atop the metallic shell in an effort to cease the spinning within his skull. When such efforts proved unsuccessful however the Canadian killer decided to change tact and whirled around to face his annoying assailant, verily there had to be a limit as to how encumbering one could be and the youth before him was rapidly reaching his quota.
It was quite the dilemma to be sure, should he maim the aggravating Asian leaving the boy to endure the rest of his life as a cripple and curse his inability to act, or should he simply terminate the source of his annoyance and return to wreaking havoc on the city at large? The former would certainly be more amusing however the latter would be the safer bet, after all the kids mutation was somewhat more troubling than most and the former soldier truly did despise it when others butted in on his fun, still though, mocking a crippled Asian cursed with caped crusader syndrome did sound rather appealing… hmm, what to do?
‘Screw it, he doesn’t deserve this much thought; I’ll let lady luck decide.’
Stepping away from the dumpster Hull slowly began to circle his so called opponent, an amused glint entering his toxic viridian eyes even as blood trailed from the corner as mouth when the boy began to mirror his movements which were continued until the ex-soldiers back faced the mouth of the alleyway, at which point the slant eyed foreigner began a rather hypocritical diatribe as he failed to react when the sinister slaughters hands disappeared into their sleeves, only to return a split second later, one holding a quotidian crimson lighter whilst the other clutched an open alcoholic beverage with a strip of cloth wedged down neck like some demented scarf.
The latter object, for the uneducated among us unable to recognize it, was an was an oh so handy Molotov cocktail, otherwise known as the beggars bomb; a name Hull had always found severely misleading for he’d yet to encounter a beggar who’d willingly sacrifice a bottle. Still that was neither here nor there, all the reader need concern themselves with is the fact that a Molotov cocktail is convenient explosive for those looking to cause some chaos in a hurry, indeed quite a few of these impromptu bombs had been used on the street behind the malicious murder by the angry mob he’d whipped up a short while ago… it truly was fascinating how easily people could be led; they really were nothing more than sheep.
Bringing the lighter to the makeshift fuse of his homemade explosive the sinister slaughter was able to enjoy the expression of utter shock and alarm which passed across his adversary’s features as the boy finally comprehended the situation. It was most entertaining to be sure; observing the Asian’s countenance rapidly shift from smug hubris to eye widening fear as the alcohol soaked rag caught fire and the bottle was thrown through air on a trajectory which would see it collide cleanly with the corner of the dumpster to the boys right. Ideally the bottle would shatter against the edge of the dumpster and spill its flaming contents across the alleyway leaving little to no room to dodge. Sadly however the malicious wanderer did not remain to monitor the results of his efforts for an outside stimulus had caught his attention, specifically the sound of sirens unrelated to that of ambulances or fire engines, no the precise screech currently scorching the air was restricted primarily to police vehicles and such vehicles typically possessed many unexpected and useful items.
Thus it was without further ado the sinister bomber dived out of the alley and into the main street the moment the explosive had left his hands. Normally such an unusual entrance/exit would catch the attention of anyone who happened to walking the streets, fortuitously however the mass of chaos and carnage littering the roads was more than sufficient to distract the addle minded denizens of the urban jungle and as such none noticed when the malevolent murder rolled to his feet with surprising alacrity and rapidly dodged through the crowd and approached the blinking azure and crimson lights. The boys in blue were just departing their vehicles when Hull finally came within reach at the front of the crowd, viridian eyes swiftly scanned the scene before him, no less than half dozen pristine NYPD vehicles sat before him, completely unsupervised and, hopefully, full of gas.
Striding forward with an air of purpose and confidence the Canadian killer broke away from the senseless crowd, calmly approaching the collects of cars and sliding a hand into the recesses of his coat and withdrawing a slim metallic object which, from a distance could pass as a key but in actuality was nothing more than a prop to disguise the anarchists actions as he moved to place his argent fingers against the doors locking mechanism…
“The hell do you think you’re doing?”[/color]
A thick hand landed on the ex-soldiers shoulder and forced him against the car as another grabbed his free hand and twisted it around his back effectively pinning him against the car. Hull for his part was more than a little put out, his performance hadn’t been that poor had it? No, there must be something else to it, briefly he tested his captor’s hold and found the man’s grip to be somewhat stronger than he was used to, he could possibly break free but such an act would instigate a struggle and only lead to greater confrontation which wasn’t something the demented killer wanted at this precise moment. Glancing back over his shoulder emerald eyes took in the appearance of the individual behind him.
The man was white and heavyset, some might be tempted to call it fat but if the mans grip were any indication there was at least muscle wrapped around the large frame. Receding brown hair covered the man’s skull and green eyes far duller than the anarchists own sat atop a rather elongated nose which simply begged to be broken in one if not two places. Completing the somewhat unappealing physiognomy was a crooked scar running from the left the man’s left cheek to his chin in a manner which suggested a shaving accident or possibly a lack of fine motor skills when it came to utilizing a knife and fork. In either case the overall image was of a man who’d had to deal with too much in his life already and was being forced to deal with yet more.
“I could ask you the same damn thing asshole! The fuck is your problem, I need to get out an APB on this crazy bitch of a mutant who started a fire, now would you let me get into my car?!”
The only response Hull received was a rather forceful shove against the car’s frame as his head was slammed against the vehicles roof, a maneuver which was meant to momentarily stun but was rather ineffective when the target knew the move was coming and could twist his head accordingly. Still the malicious traveler permitted his body to lose its tension and fall slack thereby allowing the disgruntled officer behind to wrap both arms behind his back and lock them in place with what felt like plastic handcuffs.
“First mistake asshole, know who you’re talking to, if you were actually in the force you’d know that as commissioner I’ve got the right to beat you back and forth until you forget which way is down. But hey, you know what, I’m a nice guy, you want in the car that badly fine.”[/color]
In less time than it likely took the man to devour a bigmac the Canadian killer found himself being bent over and all but thrown into the backseat of the police cruiser with his hands still firmly cuffed behind his back. The door was swiftly locked behind and the sinister bomber was left to glare spitefully at the man who’d placed him in his current position… right up until said man turned his back and began to walk away. At that points Hull’s expression rapidly evolved into one of self satisfied glee as his silver tipped fingers arced down and deftly vanished the polymer crafted restraints from his wrists and uncurled the fingers of his other hand which revealed a rather hefty set of keys one of which was unmistakably a car key.
Thus it was that 30 seconds later the demented ex-soldier managed to remove the screen separating the front and back sections of the vehicle and crawl forward into the driver’s seat where he then took a moment to situate himself and observe proper safety protocol; seatbelt, seat, steering wheel, mirrors all were checked with due efficiency and altered accordingly. The ignition was then activated and the horn honked liberally to garner the attention of the so called police commissioner who received a benevolent wave and genial smile to accompany his flabbergasted expression before finally bestowing a liberal amount of gas to the engine and rapidly accelerating down the road.
When was the last time he’d laughed so hard? Had it been when he’d released that pack of half starved dogs into the elementary school? No, not quite; maybe it had been when he’d flooded his high school science room with oxygen mere minutes ahead of the professors demonstration, the man had always complained about not possessing a tan you see. Then there was the time he’d trapped his CO at the bottom of a well during the rainy season, the asinine little man had asked for a rope yet failed to specify what it should be attached to... it had been immensely amusing to listen to his officers cries when the man had closed the grate of the well on top of himself as the water level steadily rose. And of course not to be forgotten was the time he’d managed to create his own version of Greek fire in a hospital just as they finished renovating their sprinkler system… heh, good times but still none had quite the same elements as this particular episode; he’d barely touched the brat but her reaction had been priceless, he’d have to get her to do it again.
Blinking silently in the utter darkness of the sewer the merciless murderers hand stretched outwards slightly, only to find that the spot the child had occupied a moment ago had been replaced with all too empty air. Needless to say this raised a few issues; primarily how had the kid managed to sneak off without making a sound? She’d been all but scared out of her wits less than ten seconds ago and now she was tiptoeing blindly down a sewer? An aggravated sigh left the sinister slaughters lips as his thumb hovered over the switch on his torch. ‘What happened to the good old days where little girls were nothing more than damsels in distress entirely incapable of independent thought or action? Guess I’ll just have to teach the brat a new meaning to women’s suffrage.’
With a flick of his thumb the cavernous depths of the onyx tunnel were once again illuminated throwing everything into sudden clarity as the light reflected off the filth encrusted walls and spilled over the obsidian currents below, inexplicably however the torches rays failed to reveal the blonde haired child who’d been thrown into the sewers depths mere minutes ago. Indeed the tunnel seemed utterly absent of life and viridian eyes blinked once again as the former soldier processed this unexpected conundrum. The brat was here somewhere, this much the anarchist was certain of, he’d held her not 30 seconds ago and the next nearest manhole was just over a mile away; there was no conceivable way the girl could have slipped without alerting him therefore rationality dictated that she’d simply run off beyond the lights reach. It was a most interesting reaction to be sure for it implied that the child had somehow managed to discern the wanderer’s malevolent nature and immediately attempted to flee.
Still there was no real cause for worry just yet, the Canadian killer had traversed these tunnels before, the path was fairly linear for some distance yet and filled with a myriad of obstacles which would no doubt slow the girl down and sap her energy, and when that ran out… well, the fun could begin in earnest, until then though there was a hunt to be had; he’d allow the child to run for now, exhaust herself building up some distance, grant her the illusion of hope just so he could have the pleasure of tearing it away. However, first things first, there appeared to be specks of crimson dotting the otherwise smoke coloured cement. Hull’s brow rose as he crouched down and swept his fingers through the scarlet streaks momentarily testing their consistency before a low, menacing chuckle ripped through his throat.
‘She even left me a trail to follow, looks like we’ll have a proper game of hare and hounds.’
Straightening up to his full height once more the former soldier shone his light directly down the length of the tunnel while his free hand summoned a somewhat worn yet razor sharp switchblade which slipped out of the handle with a highly metallic and audible *Schnick* as the malicious poisoner began to move forward at a pace which was faster than a walk but far from a run.
“The bleeding little girly tried to run away, Ran-”
The murderer’s inane jingle came to end before it ever truly started as the rather solid sound of flesh colliding with concrete echoed dimly over the noise of the current below and female figure abruptly appeared out of thin air bent at the waist over one of the concrete pillars which stretched horizontally across the tunnel. For a split second Hull simply stared at the sight before him, his deranged mind not quite comprehending what had just occurred, a moment later however a pained groan from the girl before brought the sadistic slaughter back to the present, causing him to race forward and plant his forearm across the child’s back effectively pinning her down even as he brought his arm across the adolescents shaking neck and deftly cut off the girl’s air supply, remaining unyielding as gamines struggles momentarily grew in intensity before inevitably ceasing as darkness once again took hold of her.
Having already lost the brat once Hull possessed no desire to chase after her again, there were only so many hours in a day after all and he did have other things to do, thus the moment the child passed into unconsciousness the former soldier worked swiftly, moving with a practiced air as he deftly flipped the girl onto her stomach and shifted her comatose form so that she lay lengthwise across the concrete column. Precious seconds were then spent withdrawing and uncoiling bungee cords which were then used to secure the senseless child’s lower limps, hips and finally her arms which were locked above her head. Only once the adolescent had been firmly fastened to the makeshift table did the malevolent anarchists actions begin to slow down as he stepped away and examined his handiwork, momentarily testing the slack in the cords and reassuring himself that they were beyond the girls meager strength before then turning his attention to the lines of wires and pipes which ran across the roof of the tunnel.
‘Have you ever experienced one of those episodes where the stress gradually overrides your sensibilities and then one day you simply snap and everything blacks out, only for you to awake at some indeterminate interval later and discover that your hands are stained scarlet and a veritable array of cadavers decorate the surroundings whilst their innards are strung from one wall to the next in some perverse mimicry of Christmas tinsel spelling out a macabre message which leaves you to question the very core of your being? One which truly makes you wonder what type of insane and sinister evil can exist in the heart of man for such a massacre to come to pass?
‘No? Me neither, I’m always awake when it happens, still though I attain a substantial amount of amusement from picturing the best and brightest minds within the NYPD endlessly puzzling over and attempting to derive some sense of significance from the words “Pantsless McGee” smeared against the wall of a rural bar on the outskirts of the city. I can only imagine what type of crackpot conclusions will occur in their cramped craniums. Sadly though such thoughts are for another time, one that is hopefully not too far in the future for I would dearly love to craft a canvas with such a colourful reptilian skin. I’m certain it would create quite the striking image and, if managed carefully, could possibly garner more media attention than my current volatile ventures.’
Such were the thoughts of the Canadian killer as he leaned adroitly against the opened dumpster at his back, viridian eyes indolently shifting back and forth as he surveyed his asinine audience barely even listening as the interfering Asian delivered his dreary denouncement, really people these days were far too quick in jumping to conclusions, whatever happened to imagination? Of hearing both perspectives and coming to an unbiased decision? Really now, the lad could have had some sort of vermin on his shoulder and been none the wiser, but no instead of attempting to be understanding the boy swiftly segued to a sequitur. It was quite depressing for it showed a rather severe lack of creativity and that made things boring, which simply would not do.
It was at precisely this point, just as the former soldier was contemplating the pros and cons of introducing a previously acquired firearm to the ennui inducing environment that the lillupitan lizard crouched besides the mortally wounded waif abruptly and literally leapt into action; swiftly scaling the brick wall behind the sinister slaughterer before rapidly changing direction and launching its immature assault. The merciless marauder was caught almost completely off guard, the scrape of cloth against the brick the only warning he received before a reptilian set of arms and legs locked around his upper torso with unnatural strength, trapping one arm by his side whilst the one supporting the cigarette in his mouth remained partially free.
The momentum from attack caused twisted traveler to stagger forward a few feet, his upper body leaning forward perilously as his lower limbs rushed to keep up, fortuitously, or otherwise depending on your perspective, the sadistic wanderer was able to maintain his balance and quickly drew himself back to his full height as an amused chuckle escaped his lips without losing the cancer stick still clenched between his teeth. “Affectionate little thing aren’t ya? Not too bright though.” The malicious anarchist then set about trying to release himself from the unwanted embrace, much to his surprise however the reptilian youth proved to be far stronger than he appeared and the ex-soldiers efforts were largely useless.
“…well, this is embarrassing. I don’t suppose you’d let go if I offered you snack? I helped you pale friend over there lose a little weight earlier and I was wondering what to do with the- gah!”
Apparently the serpentine youth wasn’t all that hungry, either that or he was vegetarian of some sort for the adolescent mutant suddenly started to constrict all of his limbs with surprising force which was more than sufficient to gradually crush the air from Hull’s lungs and cause the malicious murderer to react with more vigilance than he previously demonstrated; violently twisting from side to side as he attempted to disorient and detach his unwanted passenger.
When such measures failed to provide immediate results though the former solider swiftly embarked upon a more efficient means of untangling himself as he abruptly turned his back on the slant eyed conjurer and hunched over. With his hands thus hidden from view the Canadan killer withdrew yet another knife from his unnatural armory and swiftly sliced the blade through one of the reptilians youth arms. Cold steel deftly severed the constricting muscles in the offending limb and if the cry of pain was any indication the strike had no doubt caused a good deal of pain to the arms juvenile owner for the pressure around Hull’s ribs suddenly abated as the adolescent mutant quickly released his hold and attempted to extract himself.
“Someone needs a time out.” The words were little more than a gasp as the former soldier rapidly worked to regain lost oxygen. He’d come dangerously close to blacking out and such a fact did not sit well with him, however the deranged anarchist retained enough presence of mind to accept that there was another adversary left to contend with whom had already demonstrated a penchant for interrupting his fun. Therefore a compromise needed to be reached between the macabre marauders wish for retribution and the logical understanding that there was not currently time for such. This concession was rapidly concluded and acted upon as the malicious traveler deftly vanished the crimson knife in his argent grasp and straightened back to his full height before shooting his free hand outwards and seizing the prepubescent lizard by his kaleidoscopic head of hair in order to viciously toss the aggravating child into the upturned lid of the rusting dumpster which yielded a satisfying clanging sound as flesh met metal and again as the bleeding boy fell into said dumpster and the cover slammed forcefully into place.
A satiate sigh emerged from the demented wanderers marauders mouth as he stared darkly at the now closed dumpster in front of him before taking in a calming breath turning to annoying Asian with mock grin once plastered across his face. “Now then,” he stated genially, “where were we?”
--
((OOC: As usual, if anyone has any issues let me know.))
Entering the sewer had actually proven to be somewhat more difficult than the former soldier had initially anticipated, it hadn’t been due to any lack of skill or strength on the anarchists part but rather the fact tha a manhole is built for just that; a man, a single individual, not one attempting to carry a comatose child over his shoulder. Still the issue had been solved easily enough when the guileless girl had slipped from her precarious perch on the sinister traveler and fallen the eight or so feet down the length of the shaft into the sewer system beneath. The landing had not sounded particularly graceful but malicious couldn’t have cared less really as he deftly placed the manhole cover back in its proper place and climbed down into the pitch black tunnel.
Many people these days do not truly comprehend what pitch black means, all too often they think of the night sky or possibly some trite media production where the main character stumbles around awkwardly in a cave yet is perfectly illuminated for the sake of the viewer. Neither of these perceptions is at all accurate for both include some form of luminescence, either natural or synthetic which permits one some degree of visibility. If a setting is truly pitch black though then it is akin to being blind, you would be unable to see anything other than inky obsidian, even your very hand would remain invisible no matter how close you brought it. Therefore whenever one wishes to tour a sewer system it is imperative that they bring one of the following: some form of torch or, alternatively, night vision goggles. Fortuitously, due to his own natural talents Hull possessed both items as well as a good deal more.
Upon reaching the somewhat soiled floor of the desolate tunnel the Canadian killer nonchalantly flexed his argent fingers and a mere split second later they were wrapped around an ashen coloured torch which immediately spilled light down the length of the passageway, revealing a rather intriguing design which featured a horizontal beam approximately two feet wide running across the width of the tunnel at roughly waist height. The walkways on either side of the tunnel were of course elevated and a cursory glance at the water stained channel in the centre of the adit divulged that the sewage level was somewhat lower than usual. A host of pipes and wires also ran across the upper section of the concave ceiling and deranged poisoner was pleased to note that at least one of the wires possessed electrical insulation which immediately opened up an entire host of new possibilities for his diminutive toy.
Speaking of which where had the brat gotten to? She’d been unconscious when she’d fallen and it was unlikely the impact had done anything to change that. A brief assessment of his surroundings revealed that the child had somehow managed to roll a short distance after landing and had actually come to a rest behind him, another brief moment was spent examining senseless gamine; deftly placing a hand against her throat and then lifting the lids of her eyes with surgical precision to test the reaction of pupils under the harsh light of the torch. A sadistic smile swiftly swept across the slaughters features as he confirmed that the contemptuous child had avoiding any form of serious brain damage and thus she would be completely responsive when she finally returned to the land of the living.
It was no fun playing with human vegetables after all.
A groggy moan abruptly escaped the injured ingénues lips and Hull swiftly cut off the power to the torch. The deranged wanderer was uncertain how the girl would react to his presence or whether she would possess the presence of mind to implicate him for her current predicament, the last thing he wanted at this stage was for the girl to run; for although he had memorized the layout of the sewer system it would still be all too easy to lose graceless gamine in the dark should she escape his visual range, thus he waited in silence and di his best to gauge the child’s response with his other senses.
Sound was really all he had to work with and as the former soldier focused upon his hearing he was gradually able to distinguish minute sounds of movement above the ambient melody of flowing of water. It wasn’t much, the faint noise of cloth scraping against stone, or the sharp gasps of breath as immature lungs repeatedly filled and emptied, yet it was more than enough to cause the sinister anarchist to grin malevolently. The child was scared, not yet panicked no, but the fear was there; the slight sense of terror which comes whenever one faces something unknown, add that to an instinctual fear of darkness that nearly all humans possessed and it was clear that the little slip of a girl was anything but calm.
“Who is there? Where am I?”[/color] The words were whispered softly, hesitantly and it was all Hull could do not to chuckle at the trembling tone in her voice. He’d originally hoped the brat would remain comatose for a while longer until he could properly secure her but toying with her in this state could still be fun, besides it would require less effort on his part if the child was able to follow him instead of having to carrying her. She would, he thought with amusement, become the proverbial lamb walking to her own slaughter
Barely a foot away from the arrogant adolescent the continuous flow of running water allowed Hull to utterly mask his approach as he cautiously crept closer and reached out a hand for where he believed the girl to be and silently arced it around so that his hand would face the back of her shoulder, he paused for a fraction of a second; listening for any clue that the girl was aware of her presence before he swiftly poked her shoulder and snaked his arm away just as a terror filled shriek reverberated within the desolate confines of the tunnel and the gamine all but jumped a foot into the air eliciting a muffled laugh from the malicious murderer which was more than covered by the girls ongoing scream.
“Hey kid! Kid calm down!”
Infusing a note concern and authority into his own voice to override his humour the former soldier nearly shouted his words as the terrified gamine practically ran into him. Reflexively bracing himself against the side of the wall Hull placed a foot behind him in order to steady himself as his other hand tried to get a grip on the panicked child. “God dammit stop screaming! You fell down an open manhole and we’re in the sewers, now I need you to calm down so we can get outta here ok?”
