Author Topic: bloodstripes ii.  (Read 252 times)

Offline Cubs

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Re: bloodstripes ii.
« Reply #15 on: August 16, 2019, 07:39:07 AM »
we all love Dad sm :’) ty ty

khejs bee u better get back here w him
we ALL need a healthy father figure not jus u isjwkwk
down by home, i've seen this road before. i don't know if your soul can pay the toll. no crushing, no houses send flowers. syre cried a floral river into the valley where the sun set for hours. ⋆

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Offline hunny

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Re: bloodstripes ii.
« Reply #16 on: August 16, 2019, 11:47:12 AM »
nope i’m snatching him bye
tell me you love me, but you treat me like i'm never there. ★
[ aka bee / sixteen / discord: hunny#1416 / any pronouns. ]

Offline AUREATE™

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Re: bloodstripes ii.
« Reply #17 on: August 16, 2019, 12:44:35 PM »
very small track!

Offline finny.

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Re: bloodstripes ii.
« Reply #18 on: August 16, 2019, 10:57:12 PM »
late track
you don't get thick skin
without getting burntHUB


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Re: bloodstripes ii.
« Reply #19 on: August 21, 2019, 11:26:45 PM »
THE STARVING WOLFtw: gore, mentions of death/kidnapping

The streets howl in the chilly autumn night, a breeze sweeping through the rotting cityscape. It’s pure darkness since the blackout hit, and the only sounds to be heard are of the distant screams of strangers in the streets. Violence in the cities have peaked with the riot, most of them abandoned, leaving only scavengers and troublemakers in the wake. The streets are filthy and clogged with abandoned vehicles, and the buildings empty and ransacked. It’s a quiet night for the city- at least, until Faustus enters it.

Quick footsteps echo through the narrow alleyway as a large man sprints through the corridors. His breaths are short and rhythmic, and he maintains a swift pace. The figure moves throughout the city quickly and quietly, darting through alleys and remaining in the shadows. He does not wish to be seen; does not wish to become prey to his own.

It’s been just over a year since the blackout. It’s been two since he lost his family. Two years since he told his husband and daughter that he loved them for the last time. Two years since he came home from work one day to find them both missing. Blood stains left on the living room floor, splatters on their couch, and the back door busted. It didn’t take him long to figure out who had taken his family, but finding and pursuing them was a different story.

He pushes the door open to the towering glass building, rifle in his roughened hands. His steps are quiet and slow as he enters the building, careful to avoid being heard. Faustus knows he’s here- knows he’s a sitting duck. Knows that by entering this building, he has sealed his fate in the likely possibility of his own death. But it doesn’t matter if he can or can’t survive this- it’s a matter of having to. This was bigger than him- bigger than the man he was about to kill. Faustus had to have answers. Had to know where Kofi and Wren were. Had to be able to piece it all together finally.

It had been almost a decade since Faustus had joined that godforsaken gang. Since he had fucked with people who should not have been fucked with. Since Faustus had become a branded man with a target upon his head. Now, he paid the price. His family was to be some form of bait for the man, but the breadtrail back to their captors was muddled and stale since the blackout hit. Now, they had every reason to forget Faustus and kill his family, unless they already had.

He ascends the third flight of stairs at a slow pace, eyes narrowed and focused, every muscle in his body tense. He knows where his prey is, knows he’s waiting for him. It’s only a matter of time now, and Faustus has been waiting for two years. The wolf is starved and angry. His actions are deliberate and cautious. There will be no mistakes tonight; he is well aware only one of them will walk away by the end of the night. It has to be him.

They visit him in dreams. Kofi’s head of curls and bright eyes, his hearty laugh filling the room and his smile radiating. He is the sun, and Faustus thrives in his light. His skin is warm to the touch and soft, and Faustus knows every inch of it. They spent nights together in bed or with Wren. Her messy freckles and her striped leggings, toothy smile often stained red by her favorite strawberry popsicles. She calls for Faustus to push her on the swing, or begs him to read another bed time story with Kofi. All he gets now are snippets of this, blurry and fading as time wears on.

Now, his crosshairs land on the man’s head. Steady and accurate, he can take the shot now and kill him. But that’s not good enough- that’s not enough. The scope lowers to the man’s kneecap, and without further hesitation, Faustus pulls the trigger. Always the sharpshooter; the man falls abruptly to the hardwood floor, a scream bounces off the walls, pistol clattering to the ground, and he clutches his leg, breath uneven and sharp. Faustus rises from his kneeling stance, and approaches his victim; the wolf stands over his prey.

”I’ve been waiting for this moment for two years,” His rough voice begins as he sets the rifle upon the glass conference room table. He takes his time to remove his ballcap and the pollution mask from his face. ”Two years of tracking you and your associates down,” He rolls his neck, easing the tense muscles in his shoulders. Suddenly, he chuckles. ”You’re a hard man to find.”

He turns to the fallen man, shaking and wheezing, pitiful and fading. Faustus smiles. He takes hold of a chair at the table and slowly drags it across the floor behind him as he approaches his prey, twirling the chair around and sitting upon it. He exhales loudly before analyzing the other. ”You’re the man who kidnapped my husband and nine year old daughter,” Faustus states, gaze flickering over the wheezing man. The other shakes his head violently, parting his wet lips, ”I was just taking or-“ ”Shut up,” Faustus thunders suddenly, stomping his boot upon the floor beside the man’s injured knee. ”Don’t fucking speak unless I ask you to.” His gaze is hard, and his words harder.

”You don’t think I know you’re just a pawn?” His lips slowly curl into a grin as he cocks his head ominously. ”Look at yourself... wheezing, drooling on the floor, begging for mercy. I sure as Hell hope you’re not the man who made those orders.” He spat. ”You’re no big boss. You’re not shit.” He spits upon the man, reiterating his point. Faustus is silent a moment before he stands from his chair, moving back to the glass table. He begins to extract his hand knives from his tactical belt, setting them one by one on the table.

The fallen man seizes his chance, reaching for the handgun he had dropped earlier, just out of reach. But his fate is already sealed. Faustus’ boot comes slamming down upon the man’s wrist, and a gruesome cracking erupts from the injury. The man howls in pain again as Faustus kneels to pick up the pistol, tutting condescendingly. ”Oh, little hare, why do you continue to fight?” He murmurs thoughtfully, holstering the man’s weapon. ”You’re making me angry.” He holds a knife in his other hand, and slowly kneels beside the man.

”We’re going to play a game.” The blade glimmers in the moonlight. ”I ask you a question, you answer...“ His gaze flickers to meet the man’s, ”Truthfully.” He lifts the knife to the man’s chest, trailing the tip of the blade across his torso lazily. ”You don’t follow the rules, and I kill you,” He suddenly digs the knife into the man’s chest, just enough to break the skin. ”Understand?” The man nods quickly, wincing under the weapon.

The building is dead quiet, and the moonlight illuminates the room just enough. The city has gone quiet, except for the wolf and his prey. ”Where are they?” He pries, tracing the blade over the man’s stomach. ”St. Johns- Georgia.” The knife presses into his gut. ”In a warehouse! In a warehouse! I don’t know which one- I only work here, I swear!” Faustus eases the pressure off the man’s stomach, satisfied. ”Who gave the orders?” ”Collins. Richard Collins.” Faustus seems pleased. ”Good boy.” He smiles eerily.

”Last one...” He pauses, gaze flickering between both of the man’s eyes. ”Did you drag her out of bed? Did you cover her mouth so she wouldn’t scream? Did you carve her skin to make your point?”

The man suddenly freezes up, and he shakes his head slowly. ”I-I was just tak-“ ”Taking orders?” Faustus finishes for him, brows knitting together at the repetition of the man’s words. ”Wrong answer.” He suddenly digs the knife into the man’s stomach, pushing past flesh and muscle, deep into the man’s body, holding the knife steady as the man chokes and writhes under him. He shoves the handle further up, ripping his skin further upwards, dragging the blade through his abdomen. The man gurgles, blood spilling from his lips. Faustus slowly twists the knife in his hands, the sound of ripping flesh and snapping strings in tune with the man’s screams. He extracts the knife slowly, staring at the man’s face as he coughs up more blood, too weak to move. But Faustus isn’t done. The man moves to continue his carving, turning his attention to his face instead.

The man’s screams can be heard throughout the city as Faustus exacts his revenge, echoing through the empty streets and alleyways. The night is no longer quiet, and the streets now howl with a different source.

The wolf is pleased, for he will eat tonight.
Can I still improve? I got no time, I got shit to do / I got things to lose / I got life to choose. Let's be honest, Am I really screwed- Am I still a fool- If I keep it cool? ⋆
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