Clink clank. The sound of metal clashing. A body sliced clean open. The blood flowing on the dirty, worn cement. This was the life of the underground. The smell of rotting bodies in a nearby dumpster. What made this body on the ground stand out was how fresh it was. How messy of a sight it was. This was not done by a calculating, cold gangster. This was not the victim of the local fight club. This was a murder of a much more violent nature. The cuts were uneven and sloppily done. The intestines of the man oozed out of his stomach. His heart and throat was impaled by a different weapon.
Yet it was all done by a little girl. A little girl that saw nothing but red.
Her lab gown was painted crimson as she silenced another adult. What cruel words the woman said to her. A freak of nature? Stay away? Why were all adults so mean? Groans and cries escaped the zombie's mouth as she pried the shuriken out of the dead prostitute. The mask muffled her cries. She couldn't stand having it on her face. She didn't like any of the add-ons that was sloppily forced onto her body. She could feel the crushing weight of the weapons as she stumbled back onto her feet.
It was cold too. November weather brought a chill to her spine. The twelve-year-old patted her face and felt the mask that suffocated her. The nails were bothering her. She wanted to scratch at them but she couldn't. She shuffled slowly down the street. O.A.D.U. paid no mind to the bloody trail of dead bodies she left. Why would she? She was a killer by design but not at heart.
At heart she just wanted to be normal.
@"Maximum_Fatalis"
Yet it was all done by a little girl. A little girl that saw nothing but red.
Her lab gown was painted crimson as she silenced another adult. What cruel words the woman said to her. A freak of nature? Stay away? Why were all adults so mean? Groans and cries escaped the zombie's mouth as she pried the shuriken out of the dead prostitute. The mask muffled her cries. She couldn't stand having it on her face. She didn't like any of the add-ons that was sloppily forced onto her body. She could feel the crushing weight of the weapons as she stumbled back onto her feet.
It was cold too. November weather brought a chill to her spine. The twelve-year-old patted her face and felt the mask that suffocated her. The nails were bothering her. She wanted to scratch at them but she couldn't. She shuffled slowly down the street. O.A.D.U. paid no mind to the bloody trail of dead bodies she left. Why would she? She was a killer by design but not at heart.
At heart she just wanted to be normal.
@"Maximum_Fatalis"