(Disclaimer: This thread is dark and violent. You will find themes revolving around crime, murder, drug use, and sex. Some will be disturbing.)


Rork Jin removed his coat and gray derby and hung them accordingly on the rack near the dwelling door. It had been so long since he had indulged himself that he wondered for a half-second if his particular skillset would be rusty.

The afternoon was bright and a soothing breeze floated through the streets of RhyDin. It was rare that he chose to trespass during any other time besides afternoon so he figured why break tradition? He hadn't been in the city long but was sure that he'd have no problems carrying out his sinful desires.

He rummaged through the quaint cottage deftly. Each item he moved was replaced exactly as he had found it, though to his dismay, there was nothing of particular interest to him. Rork wasn't after some shiny bauble or gold-laden trinket. It was the most personal, inconspicuous items that caught his fancy.

"Apparently you don't keep much from your life, do you?" he asked the corpse that sat in a chair near the center of the common room.

His icy blue eyes slid to what he assumed was the owner of the residence. He doubted that he would have slipped in only to encounter another intruder had beat him to the spoils.

Blood still oozed from the slice across the woman's neck. Her wrists were raw where she had struggled against the bonds tying her to the chair. She was a lovely creature and had he been a more wholesome man, Rork may have came to court her. But he was what he was.

Then he spied what he was looking for. It was a tiny hairclip, carved from stone with a tiny bow etched on the surface. He plucked it from her hair with his slender digits and brought it close to his face to study.

"Yesssss," he hissed, closing his eyes and inhaling the waif of fragrance that still touched the hairclip.

He stowed the item in the inner breast pocket of his suit the nabbed his jacket and hat. He tipped the gray derby to his hostess and smiled.

"Thank you," he said with an elegant, deep bow, sweeping his arm widely in respect. "I bid you good day."

And with that, Rork Jin disappeared into the afternoon.

?I don?t think it?s an outrageous request,? Rork Jin said while he relaxed in the high-back leather chair.

He vigilantly studied his employer as the burly man sought a reply to his. Over the past few weeks, his employer had seen a substantial increase of revenue because of Rork?s examples. It was amazing how a few wonderfully grotesque murders struck fear into those under his employer?s protection.

And now here he sat, proposing a change to the fees in his contract. He wanted a bonus, a mere three percent of his employer?s income, paid monthly for as long as Rork?s contract remained in effect. To him, the request wasn?t unreasonable, but to his employer, a miserly brigand named Joe, the request was out of the question.

Rork figured that Joe wasn?t his real name and the deception left a bad taste in his mouth. Though he was a murderous thug, Rork considered himself as an artist in pain, he always entered into his transactions openly and honestly. If criminals couldn?t come together with great transparency, relationships could break down and blood would be spilled. But for now he was content with obliging Joe in his masquerade.

?You should have considered it when we first discussed your contract and came to an agreement,? Joe said.

?Yes, maybe I should have,? he replied cooly as he imagined the creativeness he could use to kill this man. ?However, I assumed you to be an honorable hoodlum whom would be open to renegotiation after you saw how effective my strategies were.?

?Honorable?? Joe laughed. ?Certainly you are an idiot.?

Rork rose from his chair and paced the small, dimly lit room they were in. He looked at the d?cor and smiled to himself how funny it was to see the room decorated like a study. Shelves of books lined the walls. A few fancy pieces of furniture were placed errantly about, almost as if Joe were trying to come off as something more than a common criminal. Perhaps it made others regard Joe with a bit more reverence than he should have been afforded but to Rork, it was an attempt of a small man to appear larger than life.

?Do you even have a brain in that thick skull of yours?? Rork asked before he closed the door and twisted the lock. ?Did you realize that your men posted outside of this door were gone? Sent away on an important errand for you??

Joe?s brows furrowed as he tried to mask the concern that slowly crept across his face. No, he hadn?t noticed it and now with the door locked he became more concerned for his own well-being.

?So who would hear you if you screamed?? Rork asked darkly. ?Precisely no one which puts me in a very, very good position to renegotiate the terms of our contract.?

?The hell you are!? Joe growled and shot up from his chair before a bolt hissed across the room and drilled deeply into his chest.

Rork stood there silently, arm stretched out toward the wounded man, with a tiny crossbow folding and retracting into his sleeve. He shook his head and watched Joe sink down into his chair again. Rork removed the auburn derby from his head and placed it on the desk. He tisked Joe and shook his head.

?So, this is how things are going to go down,? Rork said standing behind Joe?s chair. He placed his hands on the man?s shoulders and smiled.

?I?m going to kill you and take over your business, give your men raises to buy their loyalty, then dump your body in an alley,? Rork said.

Several hours later, Joe?s body was left in a dark alley. His eyes had X?s sliced into them. His throat had been slashed, twice, just for good measure. His body was riddled with tiny holes and burn marks and his hands and feet were missing. A dagger was thrust into his chest, pinning a wanted poster to the corpse for the authorities to help identify him.

Rork stood in the shadows to admire his work for a moment before turning to leave. With Joe taken care of, he began his reign of a sizeable chunk of RhyDin?s underground.

Noora waited impatiently for her husband to arrive home. She held the tiny vial of azure in her hand. Magnus had acquired it nearly two weeks ago. When he brought it home and showed it to her, she refused to believe what the liquid was supposed to do. But after some experimentation, it far exceeded their expectations.

She remembered the first time they tried it. She refused to believe that just a few drops from the vial would enhance sexual prowess and increase orgasmic pleasure. But it did. She and Magnus made love for hours. Their sheets were dripping with sweat and they barely broke to catch their breath before they were at it again. It was mind-blowing and she craved her husband every second of every day since, as he did for her.

Unable to handle being without him after he left for work this morning, Noora plucked the vial from its spot beside their bed and squeezed two drops onto her tongue. Her body immediately responded. She started to sweat profusely and it felt like a wildfire raged inside of her. Two hours later, when she was unable to move her arms and legs any more, she collapsed on their bed. She had never pleasured herself before and felt a little guilty afterward. Magnus should have stayed home to be with her. Now, several hours later, it was dark and her husband should be home any moment.

"Noora!" her husband bellowed from the entrance of their home.

Noora lept from their bed and ran around the corner toward him. His lips curled into a smile as his wife charged at him, naked, curves gently glowing from a light sheen of sweat from the balmy evening. She crushed her body into Magnus' and kissed him feverishly. He scooped off her feet and took her to their bed to love her again.

An hour later, Magnus found himself straining to keep up with his wife's pace. They had taken the liquid and now writhed feverishly on the bed, trying to quench their lustful thirst. His chest heaved as he looked up at her. He had taken to lying on his back to allow himself a little bit of respite. Above him, his wife moved like an animal.

Noora's fingers dug into his shoulders. Her hips ground against his and her womanhood squeezed him tightly with each vigorous movement. It was hot, too hot, and Magnus suddenly found himself gasping for air.

He choked and tried to push her off of him. It felt as if someone where holding a pillow over his face, smothering him, stealing every ounce of air he tried to take into his burning lungs. Magnus had to stop, even though his most primal side urged him on, he couldn't take it.

"Stop," he coughed, pawing at her, trying to push her away but she refused.

"Dammit Noora!" he cried. "Stop!"

Her eyes opened and she looked down at him darkly. She growled and dug her nails into his chest, piercing his flesh, making him bleed and steadying herself from his feeble shoving. Noora grit her teeth together and continued to make ravenous love to her husband. She refused to stop, to give into his desire to stop and she began to hate him for even considering stealing away euphoria that had gripped her so tightly.

"Please!" Magnus pleaded before becoming lightheaded.

Finally Noora stopped. She slapped him in the face, leaving tiny smudges of blood from her fingertips, and disappeared around the corner. Magnus rolled onto his side and nearly vomited. His lungs filled with air and his breathing became less labored. He glared at the vial on the little table beside their bed and decided they were done with the concoction.

Noora shivered as she leaned back against the wall around the corner from their bedroom. She couldn't believe the gall of her husband. He was weak and frail and didn't deserve to have her in his bed. Her thighs squeezed together and her hands roamed over her soft, naked body. She was still on fire.

Her slender digits grazed along the curves of her breasts then travelled slowly down her flat stomach. Just as she was about to slide them between her silky thighs she heard a tiny shatter. Noora's eyes flew open and she stormed into the bedroom. Her husband was lying on his back and the tiny vial was in pieces on the floor.

"What did you do!?" she screamed.

She hit the floor, hunching over the vial and slowly evaporating pool of liquid. She clawed at the floorboards, dampening her fingertips with the fluid and sucking them into her mouth. Noora looked like a junky trying to salvage what little drug she could. Magnus watched her, still trying to recover from their intense, sexual episode.

Noora cried and pulled the dagger they kept hidden beneath the bed. She rose to her feet and crawled onto her husband. Magnus was still too weak to defend himself as she stabbed him in the chest. Noora twisted the dagger in his flesh and lowered herself onto his semi-rigid manhood.

She rocked her hips up and down as she stabbed him over and over. Her brain felt as if someone had run a red hot poker through her skull. She didn't know how much of the drug she had scooped up with her fingers, it was well over the prescribed amount. She didn't care. She continued to indulge herself with her husband, watching his horrified eyes blink slowly as the life seeped from his flesh.

Noora arched her back and cried out in pleasure as her orgasm ripped through her body. She took the dagger and stabbed it into her stomach then lifted her arms high into the air. Finally she became still and collapsed on top of her husband.

Rork Jin watched through a grimy window. He had been following Magnus home, curious at how long the self-life of his customers would be. He smiled and tugged on his gray derby before hiking the collar of his well-tailored jacket up around his neck.

"Hmmmm," he mused. "Interesting."

With a flightly whistle on his lips, he headed on his merry way.