Spurs rang out inside the quiet bar, the looming calm drawing out their sound with nearly thunderous symphony. He was careful not to step on any of the bodies, cognizant not to bother the dead, as their internal rest was important to him. If they were going to get where they needed to go, they?d need to do it without interruption.
God?s Pisser. The heavy barreled handgun was firmly held in his large right hand, a small wisp of smoke still trailing off its mouth. It had done good work, dropping most of the twenty-two passengers to the underworld with only one bark. Some were stubborn and required two, though the pistol was happy to oblige.
He followed the groan that floated across the room to the one that was still alive, his lethal thoroughness in regards to the others relaying that this one?s survival was far from accidental. Boreas moved to the crumpled man and with his left hand picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him onto the bar.
The man cried out in agony as he cradled the hole in his stomach, just off center. It had to hurt, but it wasn?t fatal.
Well, it wasn?t quickly fatal.
?Who?who are you?? The man weakly asked.
?Death.? Boreas said with a nod. ?Howdy. Now, what you?re goin? through, that ain?t death. That?s pain. I can make all that end but you?re gonna have to do your part, compendia??
"I...I can pay you." The man said with a quivering voice, gasping as blood poured down his side and dripped off the bar.
Borease growled out a small laugh as he shook his head. "You ain't got the type of payment that I'm looking for."
"Sure I do." The man pleaded..."I've got tons of money, come on! You're a smart man."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You're a smart man."Tasha said, cradled between his masculine thighs. Her cheek was soft against his naked flesh, and her lips moist and hungry in regards to other aspects of his anatomy. "What do you think I'm doing?"
Boreas couldn't help the debased smirk that bent his mouth as he looked down, one hand curled behind his head, the other lacing fingers in her beautiful black hair. "Aren't you worn out yet/"
Her laugh rumbled against his thigh as she dipped her head and devoured him, a response that easily protested any question of weariness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"....so if you do, I can."
Boreas blinked hard and narrowed his eyes, a quick look around revealing that he was still inside the bar full of bodies, talking to the man on the counter. He wasn't sure where the memory popped up from but it had come out of nowhere. It wasn't like him to get that sort of distracted.
"What's...what's wrong?" The man asked.
Boreas glanced to the man's fingers and took note of the claret ichors spewing through. He was bleeding out and would do so quickly. How much time had passed? He needed answers.
"You know the cleaning crew for the Plaza de Troyes, right?" He asked as he placed the barrel of the gun against the hand covering the bullet hole, pushing inward. "I'm gonna need a name."
The man roared with pain and tried to turn away, but the weight of Boreas' arm kept him pinned between the handgun and the counter. "I...I don't know..."
"Sure you do." The North Wind assured him. "Give me a name."
"Please!" He cried out. "Make it stop!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Make it stop!" She moaned as her body jerked back and forth, recoiling between the thrust of his hips and the sturdiness of the table. "Give me what I need and make the craving stop!"
Late night and the Inn was empty. After conquering inhibition armed with only a bottle of topshelf whiskey the North Wind gave chase to the Star Gazer down the stairs and into the main room. She teased and tormented his senses before he caught her, kissed her, and made her his. Bending her over the table and unveiling the world locked beneath her pencil skirt, he became the master of her body.
"I'm begging you." She cried into the table, her cheek flush against it. With one hand on the edge of the tabletop and the other reaching back to blanket the massive mitt that guided her hips, she undulated against his brutal insurgence, loving every violent moment of it. "Make it stop!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He bit his lip, the trickle of blood tearing him from the vision. A bit dazed, the details of the massacre-ridden bar came back into view, as did the man laying on the counter.
Dead.
"F***."
Spurs sounded as he turned and headed for the door, cursing his luck. When his phone rang he plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open.
"Yea? What? ...No, I didn't....Don't worry, I'll get it. No...I said I'll get it." He snapped the phone shut.
He'd get the name...
...after.
God?s Pisser. The heavy barreled handgun was firmly held in his large right hand, a small wisp of smoke still trailing off its mouth. It had done good work, dropping most of the twenty-two passengers to the underworld with only one bark. Some were stubborn and required two, though the pistol was happy to oblige.
He followed the groan that floated across the room to the one that was still alive, his lethal thoroughness in regards to the others relaying that this one?s survival was far from accidental. Boreas moved to the crumpled man and with his left hand picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him onto the bar.
The man cried out in agony as he cradled the hole in his stomach, just off center. It had to hurt, but it wasn?t fatal.
Well, it wasn?t quickly fatal.
?Who?who are you?? The man weakly asked.
?Death.? Boreas said with a nod. ?Howdy. Now, what you?re goin? through, that ain?t death. That?s pain. I can make all that end but you?re gonna have to do your part, compendia??
"I...I can pay you." The man said with a quivering voice, gasping as blood poured down his side and dripped off the bar.
Borease growled out a small laugh as he shook his head. "You ain't got the type of payment that I'm looking for."
"Sure I do." The man pleaded..."I've got tons of money, come on! You're a smart man."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You're a smart man."Tasha said, cradled between his masculine thighs. Her cheek was soft against his naked flesh, and her lips moist and hungry in regards to other aspects of his anatomy. "What do you think I'm doing?"
Boreas couldn't help the debased smirk that bent his mouth as he looked down, one hand curled behind his head, the other lacing fingers in her beautiful black hair. "Aren't you worn out yet/"
Her laugh rumbled against his thigh as she dipped her head and devoured him, a response that easily protested any question of weariness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"....so if you do, I can."
Boreas blinked hard and narrowed his eyes, a quick look around revealing that he was still inside the bar full of bodies, talking to the man on the counter. He wasn't sure where the memory popped up from but it had come out of nowhere. It wasn't like him to get that sort of distracted.
"What's...what's wrong?" The man asked.
Boreas glanced to the man's fingers and took note of the claret ichors spewing through. He was bleeding out and would do so quickly. How much time had passed? He needed answers.
"You know the cleaning crew for the Plaza de Troyes, right?" He asked as he placed the barrel of the gun against the hand covering the bullet hole, pushing inward. "I'm gonna need a name."
The man roared with pain and tried to turn away, but the weight of Boreas' arm kept him pinned between the handgun and the counter. "I...I don't know..."
"Sure you do." The North Wind assured him. "Give me a name."
"Please!" He cried out. "Make it stop!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Make it stop!" She moaned as her body jerked back and forth, recoiling between the thrust of his hips and the sturdiness of the table. "Give me what I need and make the craving stop!"
Late night and the Inn was empty. After conquering inhibition armed with only a bottle of topshelf whiskey the North Wind gave chase to the Star Gazer down the stairs and into the main room. She teased and tormented his senses before he caught her, kissed her, and made her his. Bending her over the table and unveiling the world locked beneath her pencil skirt, he became the master of her body.
"I'm begging you." She cried into the table, her cheek flush against it. With one hand on the edge of the tabletop and the other reaching back to blanket the massive mitt that guided her hips, she undulated against his brutal insurgence, loving every violent moment of it. "Make it stop!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He bit his lip, the trickle of blood tearing him from the vision. A bit dazed, the details of the massacre-ridden bar came back into view, as did the man laying on the counter.
Dead.
"F***."
Spurs sounded as he turned and headed for the door, cursing his luck. When his phone rang he plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open.
"Yea? What? ...No, I didn't....Don't worry, I'll get it. No...I said I'll get it." He snapped the phone shut.
He'd get the name...
...after.