{"sf1_id":195736,"sf2_id":"XnrDZJoe","title":"Cult \u0026 Mantis","author":"Wolfy Snackrib","words":5587,"posted_at":"2010-11-20T23:51:00.000Z","tags":["Dark","Demon","M/F","No-Yiff","black humour","cruel","gritty","maneaters","werewolves"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/195736-cult-mantis","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/XnrDZJoe","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=195736\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Proclaimer: Here's the first couple of chapters of a story that I'm writing. For two weeks now I've been writing and probably gotten about 40 pages worth. I might upload more of it depending on what people here thinks of it. Unfortunatly, there's no sex in the beginning, but I have one scene that gets really graphic and nasty way later on.\n\nI hope you guys won't mind that this isn't about furries but rather about demons, werewolves, shapeshifters, vampires, all kinds of super natural beings.\n\nAlso I'm swedish and I wrote most of it late at night so excuse any horrible errors that I might have made. I'm not going to double and triple check this, I just write for fun. Hope that someone out there will enjoy. Warning: It's dark and cruel. It's not about good guys or bad guys, there's just predators and prey. I'm the kind of guy that usually cheers for the bad guy in movies, so I'm not favoring any wimps this story.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n-=Mantis's mouth.  \n  \nCackling laughter ripped the night open, bringing a chill up the spine of every human\n\n\u0026nbsp; unfortunate enough to be up and about that late. Then the sound of frightful footsteps  \n  \nhurrying away from source of the threatening sound can be heard. For a second, I ponder the  \n  \npointless life of those frightened human cattle. 17th century Scaredy superstitious  \n  \nvillagers and modern 21st century city people, what's the differnce? The world changes but  \n  \nman always remains the same. Stupid, prejudiced and so afraid of the dark.  \n  \nJust thinking about what it'd be like to be in the shoes of typical human gives me the  \n  \ngoosebumps. I stand up from my crowlike stance and jog towards the nightly screams that  \n  \nslowly die into the night. Let's see what my friend has got us for dinner. I wouldn't say  \n  \nthat he was standing in triumph over his kill, it's just kind of gloating. Knowing that we  \n  \nare better in every sense of the word than our prey. Faster, stronger, more savage. Where  \n  \nis the wrong in living out survival of the fittest? It's not like we're going to runt out  \n  \nof people to hunt. Some kindred concern themselves with the wellbeing of humans, as if the  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; life of a person is somehow worth more than that of a chicken. Personally, that is not our  \n  \nway. That is not the way of Cult and Mantis.  \n  \nI look up and find myself greeted by the wide demonic grin of my sharp fanged companion. He  \n  \nchuckles lowly and speaks.  \n\"Hungry there, eh Mantis?\"  \nI resume my crowlike stance and poke the fleshy mess beneath my feet.  \n\"As if you would share.\"  \nLifting up a small piece of bone and realising that it is a torn off jaw I raise an eyebrow  \n  \nand look at Cult.  \n\"You really went all the way on this one, didn't you?\", I say and make fists with my foot  \n  \ntalons. I'm kind of glad that no shoes fit me. That way I don't have to worry about wiping  \n  \nthe blood off.  \nCult tilts his head sharply and the side of his mouth twitch, \"Yeah well I already ate so I  \n  \nthought I'd just have some fun and save this meal for you. Oh and try not to choke, I think  \n  \nthere's plenty of tiny bits of bones in there. He's pretty broken apart.\"  \nChoke? Is that supposed to be funny?  \n\"After all these years you are still under the impression that I could choke? Or be bummed  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; out by bones in my food?\"  \nRaising his hands apologetically he speaks, \"No mouth, right, right, got it.\"  \nI bring a small piece of meat to my face without it even touching my skin, absorbing it  \n  \nfrom a short distance through where a mouth would have been located. The meat shrinks away  \n  \nfrom my hands as it fills my stomach.  \n  \nCult jumps up onto the stone wall by the sidewalk, lazily sitting himself down with one arm  \n  \nresting on his knee, his other leg dangling down the edge. \"You do realise that you're the  \n  \none that probably have the most interesting way of feeding? Hell, you'd be a scientific  \n  \ncuriosity.\", he snickers.  \n\"Right, so says the perfect picture of a normal citizen. Obviously scientists would be  \n  \npissing themselves with excitement if they got to get their greedy little hands on  \n  \nsupernatural specimens.\"  \nHe laughs and strokes his hand back through his short hair, the way he always tends to.  \n  \n\"Yeah well, any regular human wouldn't accept it as reality if they faced one of us boogie  \n  \nmen. They are so rational, always has to be a logical explanation for all things. Yet the  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; dumb fuckers cling onto their precious religions.\"  \n  \nI sigh and roll my eyes and try to get back to the topic once more. \"I'm just saying that  \n  \nI'm no more of a scientific curiosity than you would be.\"  \nHe leaps off the wall and stretches. Then he opens up those big jaws of his again to mock  \n  \nme some more. \"For a guy with no mouth you sure talk a lot.\"  \nThrough half closed spiteful eyes I score on the rebound, \"Funny. You talk exactly the  \n  \namount that I'd expect from a guy that has such a big fat mouth. Why don't you wash it out  \n  \nevery once in a while?\"  \n  \nCult, the old freakshow has got the widest damn mouth you've ever seen, nearly stretching  \n  \near to ear. I bet the bastard would give great head, had he ever wanted to. Not that I want  \n  \nto ever imagine such horrors. His bony skull-like face is completed by the lack of a nose.  \n  \nHis nostrils are in handy to get the job done though, he has a sense of smell that  \n  \nliterally is not of this world. It ain't easy but as years pass you eventually do get used  \n  \nto his appearance.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Done eating yet?\", he asks, yawning loudly.  \n\"Getting there\", I reply as I finish absorbing the last clean looking chunk out of the  \n  \nsloppy excuse for a corpse.  \nI perk my long ears, picking up sirens in the distance. I may not have the same keen sense  \n  \nof smell as Cult does but it balances out by my excellent hearing. We won't even have to  \n  \nhurry to get a clean escape, the cops are minutes away and there's no telling if they are  \n  \nheading straight at us yet.  \n\"What's up, Mantis?\"  \nI cock my head to look at him, \"That's our cue.\"  \nHe confusedly looks around and tries to hear what I hear. \"Eh, could you crank the volume  \n  \nup on that cue?\", he so stupidly asks.  \n\"Cops. Let's call it a night and head back.\"  \n  \n---  \n\\\u003c\\\u003e Cult's eyes.  \n  \nI open my eyes after a good half nights and half days sleep and find that little runt  \n  \nMantis hunched down looking straight at me with those big ass bug eyes of his, \"Rise and  \n  \nsplice, sunshade.\", he shouts in my face.  \nAs I jump and flinch at the rude awakening his vicious red eyes changes color to a green  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; glow and he looks rather content with himself. I'll wipe that smug amusement off his  \n  \nmouthless face. Using both my legs to deliver a kick into his chest I make him fly back,  \n  \nover the edge. My turn to be amused. Did I mention that we're on top of a skyscraper? Heh.  \n  \nShaking my head and sighing happily while listening for the distant sound of a splattery  \n  \nimpact against concrete I find myself a little dissapointed when I hear claws tearing at  \n  \nstone. Little fucker's got reflexes. I lean over the edge of the building, half expecting  \n  \ndirty claws tearing me over the edge to send me falling to my temporary doom. But no,  \n  \nMantis is just sitting there on top of the gargoyle statue that he managed to grab onto to  \n  \nsave him from falling.  \n\"You about done?\", he mockingly growls with a low raspy tone of voice. Cocky little jerk.  \nMaking a slight grimase and rolling my eyes back I offer him my hand and help him up the  \n  \nlast bit of the way. A sharp stinging pain washes over me. I look back down to find my hand  \n  \nskewered on his favourite knife. Our eyes meet and I let him know how bored I am. Then with  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; him still holding onto the knife I proceed to lift him back up.  \n  \n\"You shouldn't play with those things, not when you got claws.\", I wisely explain with the  \n  \nclarity that even a new born demon pup would have understood.  \n\"Quit your whining. You only ever complain about my knife when it's lodged in you  \n  \nsomewhere.\", he lightheartedly replies. Then he yanks that piece of metal out of my hand. I  \n  \nlet out a low \"Hurm...\" and take a brief look at the palm of my hand, balling my hand to a  \n  \nfist and shake it, few drops of blood splashing onto the ground. It'll heal up nicely  \n  \nwithin the hour.  \n  \nWell that was fun. Now to think of something to pass the time until night falls on this  \n  \ndelightfully rotten town. Can't very well stroll down the street when you're of a demonic  \n  \nbreed. Especially not the kinds that look like me and Mantis here. There are many general  \n  \nnames for what we are, but there are different definitions among other kindred. I'm what's  \n  \ncalled a ripmouth. It's a subcathegory under demon.  \nAs much as I wish that Mantis would be referred to as a no-mouth, that ain't what his type  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; is called. Nah, he's a fancy little astobatous darkwraith. With all the crossbreeds out  \n  \nthere it can be a bitch to keep up to date with the correct labels.  \n  \n\"I just remembered, you got a birthday coming up.\", Mantis, the considerate little  \n  \nastomatous astobat says with genuine affection.  \n\"Yeah, what of it?\" I reply with an inability to sound suspicious.  \n\"Well, what do you want?\", he grunts in a way that makes me wonder where all that rare  \n  \nendangered friendlyness fled to.  \nCleaving my face in two with one of my award winning razorsharp grins I excitedly exhale a  \n  \nresponse, \"Oo, I want one of those pistols.\"  \n\"You want a pistol?\", he mumbles with one eyebrow raised as he examines his own knife,  \n  \nstained with my blood. He morphs the lower part of his face revealing an opening between  \n  \nstrands of skin and a very long and very nasty tongue slips out and cleans my blood off of  \n  \nhis knife. It almost makes me feel honored. He very rarely ever reveal what is beneath that  \n  \nlifesucking surface that covers his mouth. He digs the anonymity of it all I suppose.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Through his actual lips he speaks, even revealing his dark yellow fangs, \"Okay, what type  \n  \nof pistol?\".  \nThrowing my head back and dragging my claws through my hair I deviously grin and say, \"The  \n  \ntype that go bang really loud\".  \nMantis puts his knife away and morphs his face back and for once idly stands up with a  \n  \nstraight back, \"I'll look into it.\"  \n\"Can you make that two? It looks a whole lot cooler using two pistols at once.\", I blurt  \n  \nout, realising that just maybe I'm pushing my...  \n\"Don't push your luck.\"  \n  \n...yeah, kind of saw that coming. I read you like a book sometimes, Mantis, or maybe you  \n  \njust have a nasty habit of stealing the words right out of my ripped mouth.  \nBut I go on, pushing my luck a little bit further, \"Just make sure they're identical,  \n  \nholding one of each kind just doesn't look right.\"  \n\"Well I couldn't say no to the birthday wish of the closest thing that I have to a brother  \n  \nnow, could I?\", he words so touchingly. I take one step forward and ruffles his hair up a  \n  \nbit. \"You better not.\", I jokingly threaten him with little more than a whisper.  \nI always wanted a brother like him. Someone to teach how to hurt people properly. We may  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; not be of the same blood but both of us regards the other as nothing less than family.  \n  \nAlthough I do happen to have a real brother and he's a real nutcase. He learned killing  \n  \njust fine on his own.  \n  \nAfter enjoying some more bullshitting with one another we decide to have a look around. We  \n  \ncan't very well show ourselves in broad daylight, but living the way we do you tend to pick  \n  \nup some expertise in the art of sculking through the shadows. After leaping off from the  \n  \nbuilding and landing in a dark alley on top of some trash to slightly break the fall, we  \n  \nhead for the park. We stick to the shadows which isn't all that hard because the park can  \n  \nbe dark this time of year even in the daytime.  \nThe hours go by as we pretend to stalk prey, watching many men, women and children pass by.  \n  \nWe keep playing our game of getting as close as we can get without being spotted.  \n  \nEventually the shadows grow long and a full moon rises.  \n  \n---  \n[{ Crowen's heritage  \n  \nI put down the empty glass and decide to call it a night. Jimmy is still shooting pool with  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Burt in the corner of the pub. Gary is still hitting on any women he can find, but tonight  \n  \nthe pickings are slim. All things are as usual. Walking over to the door, Jimmy blocks my  \n  \npath with the pool cue. Promised him I'd play against the winner. Will make it up to him  \n  \nsome other time. After talking my way out of it while putting on my leather jacket it's out  \n  \nthe door and down the road for me.  \nSure it's a crappy place but atleast I got some friends there. Friends that won't give me a  \n  \nhard time for being american indian. They even helped get rid of the last redneck that  \n  \nthought it'd be a fun idea to play cowboys and indians. Even though I frequently get in  \n  \ntrouble about it I am proud of being a native. Only problem is that I'm one step closer to  \n  \nnature than others. That's where the real trouble begin.  \n  \nI feel like sorting my thoughts out. The night is young and the park is a quiet enough  \n  \nplace for me to relax for a bit. Noone else nearby. Nice and lonely, just the way I like  \n  \nit. In general it gets a little too lonely because I don't know anyone else like me. My  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; mind is always in conflict about it. Part of me feels like a freak, the other half lives  \n  \nfor it and is at peace only when the animal takes over. Full moon is a few nights away. I'm  \n  \nlooking forward to it. It gives me strength, fills me with happiness. Although I am not  \n  \nentirely dependent on the power of the full moon, it sure gives a healthy boost to... just  \n  \nabout everything.  \n  \nI walk towards a park bench but there's something out there that I can't quite place.  \n  \nSomething on the wind, something in the shadows, something isn't the way it should be. Saw  \n  \nmovement, few trees away. Bad kind of darkness is coming. As I hear a twig snap my  \n  \nbreathing becomes heavier. Instinctive nervosity kicking in. I wouldn't call it fear, it's  \n  \njust the body getting ready to fight if it has to. Then I hear the whispering. No regular  \n  \nperson would hear it from that distance but one of the sideeffects of being me is that I  \n  \ncan hear it quite clearly.  \n\"I get first bite.\"  \n\"Wait. There's something odd... something special with this one.\"  \n\"Yeah, chief looks like something out of a damn western movie.\"  \n\"No, not that.\"  \n\"He's looking straight at us, let's kill him before he starts to run.\"  \n\"We're not killing him. I don't think he's human, atleast not just human.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I feel that it's time to join in on this conversation. I take a deep breath, trying to  \n  \nmanage a steady voice without making it tremble from the adrenaline rush and I call out to  \n  \nmy spectators, \"If you're going to take me on, hurry up and get to it. I don't have all  \n  \nnight.\"  \nEverything goes quiet. Nothing but trees swaying in the wind. So I call out again, \"Come on  \n  \nout. Why don't we talk this over man to man? Then you can try to kill me.\"  \nAnother few seconds of silence. Then I hear a voice behind of me that makes my heart jump  \n  \nand I spin around, facing him... it.  \n\"Man to man requires two human parties. Neither one of us fits that description.\", he  \n  \nsmiles.  \nMouth like a god damn shark. How did he manage to sneak up on me? Noone ever could.  \nI stutter, \"W-what... are...?\"  \n  \nHe interupts me, \"Chill out, chief. Might ask you the same thing, I can't quite make it out  \n  \njust from looking. You being an indian I'd assume something nature-ish?\"  \nLeaves on a branch overhead next to me rattles. I turn to look and find two big red eyes  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; staring back at mine. It's hanging upside down like a... bat, and this one doesn't look  \n  \nlike it has a mouth. I look around searching for a third party, there was a second  \n  \nindividual whispering before.  \n\"What are you looking for?\", says the mouthless one. \"Expecting someone?\"  \n\"It... speaks?\", I ask with a surprised look on my face.  \nIts eyes turn from red to a bright green, almost glowing. \"You can call me Mantis.\", he  \n  \nreplies with a rather amused tone of voice. I look at the taller one once more. His left  \n  \narm appears to be tattooed, it's got dark blue stripes. I guess he dresses kind of gothic,  \n  \ntight dark clothes on his upper body, his left shoulder decorated with a shoulder pad.  \nHe taps himself twice on the chest with his index finger and growls, \"Cult\".  \nThe smaller one, Mantis, leaps from the branch and lands with a thud next to me. It feels a  \n  \nlittle awkward with his eyes examining me so thoroughly.  \n  \nI take a step back, turning my body in an angle. Ready to fight if they decide to make a  \n  \nmove.  \n\"Great, uh... who thought up your names?\", I ask suspiciously.  \n\"We did, like them?\", says the one called Mantis with enthusiasm.  \n\"Eh, sure. Pleased to... meet you\", I speak through quick breathing and my eyes jumping  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; between the two of them like popcorn.  \n\"You haven't met too many supernaturals, have you?\", Cult speaks the second half of the  \n  \nsentence through gritted pointy teeth, smiling sadistically.  \nThen it hits me. These two freaks might be the ticket I need to find out why I am what I  \n  \nam, what my purpose is. Perhaps I could even find more who are... like me?  \nMy obvious response, \"No I have not, infact you are the first.\", I daringly risk looking  \n  \nthe creature right in his savage yellow eyes. He hasn't shown any aggressiveness yet during  \n  \nour little discussion, hope he won't start now.  \n  \nCult chuckles lowly and says, \"Well to put it bluntly, we're demons.\"  \n\"...Demons?\", I repeat.  \n\"Yeah, although different types of demons. But yeah that's the general term applied to the  \n  \nlikes of us.\", he responds while dragging his hand back through his thick unwashed hair.  \nMantis circles me, more so in a curious fashion rather than posing any serious threat.  \n  \n\"Your turn. What are you?\", I hear Mantis say from behind of me.  \n\"I'm Crowen...\", I start to say but Cult interrupts me again,  \n\"Crowen? Never heard of a Crowen before.\"  \nI frown at him, \"No, no. That's my name.\", I bite back the urge of calling him a numbnuts.  \n\"Did you think that one up for yourself?\", asks Mantis.  \n\"Family name.\", I explain.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Cult rolls his eyes, \"To get back on topic, mind telling us exactly what you are?\"  \nI start telling them my story, \"Grandfather used to call it Loup Garou. He used to tell us  \n  \nstories. Legends and myths of protectors of the natural balance, shapeshifters. He died  \n  \nwhen I was young but he knew all along about me, what I was. He gave me advise, things that  \n  \nhelped me survive and helped me to accept what I am.\"  \nI notice that Mantis's eyes go red, with wrath no doubt. I guess he's the irritable one.  \n  \n\"Go on...\" he says impatiently. I notice that I dragged my story out more than I had to. It  \n  \nfeels liberating to spill my guts to these strangers, telling them everything. I could have  \n  \nsummorised it all in one word but hey, where's the exciting story telling in that?  \n\"I change into wolf form.\", there I finally said it.  \n  \n\"Hah! A fucking werewolf. You hear that, skippy?\", Cult beams brightly, making Mantis  \n  \ngroan. I wonder how much it takes to set this guy off. Or how little?  \n  \n\"Shit well, I haven't met many werewolves, but I have seen enough to know that there are  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; different types. As there are of any species.\", Cult says, catching my interest. Part  \n  \nbecause of the other potential werewolves that he mentions, part because of the different  \n  \nkinds.  \n  \n\"Others? I mean, you know others?\", I ask with my heart pounding so hard that it ought to  \n  \ncrack through my ribs.  \n\"Well I'm familiar with some. Don't know where they at now, but I'm sure they're around.  \n  \nJust need to know where to look.\", says Cult as casually as if he was asked something like  \n  \nwhere the closest auto-shop is.  \n\"Can you help me find them?\", I ask with my eyes wide open in anticipation. From his  \n  \nreturned look I can tell that he knows about how thrilled I feel.  \n\"Well that depends.\", is his response, but there is something promising in his eyes.  \n  \n\"On what?\", I say.  \nCult gives a short chuckle, \"On how big a mess they make when they're on the prowl and how  \n  \nmuch time you got.\"  \n\"I got all the time in the world.\", is my sad but true answer.  \n\"Well then, let's go.\", Cult turns around and begins to walk. Just like that? It's that  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; easy?  \nNeedless to say I follow, but not without question, \"We're going right now?\"  \n\"Yep, why not? Don't have a clue where any werewolves are right now, well except for you.  \n  \nBut I might know somebody who does.\"  \n\"Who?\", I ask.  \n\"Someone who is cold even by our standards.\", Cult says, exchanging looks with Mantis. Then  \n  \nthey both smile, well I assume Mantis's way of smiling is half closing his eyelids and  \n  \nchanging his eyes to a bright green glow.  \n  \n---  \n\\_-' Viper's\u0026nbsp; frost  \n  \nIt's three weeks ago. I'm in a hospital, pacing back and forth. Waiting. Waiting for the  \n  \nright time to make the clean kill. They're bringing him out soon, and when they do, every  \n  \nsingle one of them will meet their demise. I'm in a small waiting room. It's all empty  \n  \nexcept for a woman with a baby. Her neck snapped so easily. Didn't even wake the baby,  \n  \nwhose still soundly asleep in the pram. Until I'm done here anyone else that comes by won't  \n  \nlive to regret it.  \nMy mind is on the target. The one that they, the crime syndicate pay me to kill. Generally,  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; I really couldn't care less for them. They do what they do and they happen to pay me to do  \n  \nwhat I'd do either way. They always send one guy along to keep an eye on me though. They  \n  \ndon't trust me, and why should they?  \n  \n\"Jesus fucking christ, Jesus fucking christ...\", he repeats as if chanting.  \n\"Man I've seen some sick shit but killing a woman with a kid, like snapping a twig. How the  \n  \nhell do you even do that?\", he talks too much. \"Man they were right about you. You've got  \n  \nno morals, you just kill anyone, anywhere.\", like a cold draft and the typical morning  \n  \nafter fifteen shots of vodka, he's giving me a headache.  \n\"Be quiet.\", I whisper without any trace of either anger or annoyance, but to him it sounds  \n  \nmore like a snake hissing. He shuts up. Good.  \nBut after a moment's silence, \"Jesus fucking christ...\" - Damn.  \n  \nCan't kill him, I wouldn't get paid, and they'd come after me. Why don't they send a guy  \n  \nwho has the stomach for the job? How typically illogical of them. They're so driven by  \n  \nemotion. It's their weakness. Part of their strength as well but mostly weakness.  \n\"Why'd I agree to this shit?\", he rambles on. How to shut him up? I take two steps towards  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; him. Using my thumb and index finger I raise my sunglasses to my forehead, revealing my  \n  \neyes to him. He sees it. His lip starts to tremble uncontrollably when he sees that I have  \n  \nslits for eyes, like the common viper. Slowly I bring my finger to my lips in a silent hush  \n  \nand then fold down my sunglasses to mask my lack of humanity.  \n  \nAs I turn away from Antonio I'm faced with a sight that makes my stomach turn. Little  \n  \nbundle of fat has awakened in its pram. It looks at me for little more than a second before  \n  \nit shut its eyes tight and starts wailing. Reaching into my coat, pulling out my silenced  \n  \nbaretta I feel a hand gripping tight at my shoulder, making me turn my head to the side  \n  \nwith a snap and lower my eyebrows at Antonio.  \n\"No man. Not even you could do that, could you?\", he complains.  \nA moment passes without either of us moving. My hand still holding the gun up, pointed at  \n  \nthe ceiling. Pulling the hammer back with my thumb I break the silence with a click.  \n\"What the fuck Murdoch, come on. You don't have to do this, I'll take the baby outside.\",  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; he cries.  \nThe baby's cry is louder. Dangerously loud. Besides that, my headache sets in.  \n  \n\"Could expose us. Need to quiet it down, right now.\", I reply maintaining a straight face  \n  \nand my self control. Self control is rapidly becoming harder.  \nHe reaches into the pram, gently wagging the baby back and forth in attempt to... turn it  \n  \noff all on its own.  \nWhile I start to pace back and forth again he starts to baby talk to it.  \n\"Shh, shh, shh baby, please don't cry. Come on, come on. There, there now. Fuck.\"  \n\"Shut it up.\", I say through gritted teeth. If he was looking my way he'd see my fangs.  \n\"I'm trying!\", he snarls back at me with a bit of panic in his voice.  \n\"You're not trying hard enough. Shut it up.\", this is too noisy. It'll blow our one chance  \n  \nof a clean kill.  \n\"You fucking asshole, you can't kill him.\", he taunts, failing to affect my mood one way or  \n  \nthe other. I inhale deeply. Then I exhale. This is futile. I watch him desperately trying  \n  \nto get the baby quiet.  \n\"Shut it... the fuck... up.\", my voice has become a low growl.  \n\"Murdoch, Just control yourself man. Just think of something else.\", he's panting, gasping  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; for air althroughout his sentences.  \nIsn't that cute of him to think that I lack self control. People sometimes are under the  \n  \nillussion that I lose my self control. It is merely a matter of the choice I make, and I  \n  \nmake it consciously, without losing my self control to act on my own emotion and impulse.  \n\"You need to shut it up. Now.\", I barely get a chance to finish my sentence before I hear  \n  \nmovement down the hallway.  \n  \nNo time to argue now.  \nWith the flick of my hand I've taken aim, pulled the trigger and stained Antonios face with  \n  \nlittle red baby bloodsplatter. He goes into instant shock of watching its little face cave  \n  \nin on itself. I assume they didn't hear the silenced shot at this range, atleast not loud  \n  \nenough to be alarmed by it. Spinning around I take cover, readying myself to take them all  \n  \nout as they stroll into view. I count the footsteps, I can make out that there's four of  \n  \nthem. I exhale and hold my breath, it will keep my arm more steady. Then it's showtime. I  \n  \nbarely have to adjust my aim to take out the first two guys that stand in line.  \nFive shots prove sufficient and they start to fall down. The other two have let go of the  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; stretch that they were pulling on wheels, now reaching for their guns. They're too slow. I  \n  \ngun them down easily.  \nThe old man on the stretch is weakly moving around, he's not going anywhere. By my count I  \n  \nhave no bullets left in the clip, but I have one round in the chamber. It's almost poetic,  \n  \nhe has practically got his name written on that last round.  \n  \nI know fear when I see it and judging from his shambly weak movements on the stretch I'd  \n  \nsay he's ready to piss himself. As I walk towards him with fast heavy footsteps his eyes  \n  \nopens up wider the closer I get to him. He listens to the sound my shoes make, he's  \n  \nwatching me watching him and he knows that I am going to mark his death.  \nBut like it is with all other humans I can't help but wonder if he feels that small glowing  \n  \nember of naive hope, that somehow he's going to find a way out of the situation. I think  \n  \nthat he does. But it's not strong enough for him to not realise that he is already a dead  \n  \nman.  \n  \nI remove my sunglasses and place them at his feet on the stretch. I manage the slightest  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; smile as I look at his face, the flabby old skin frightfully wobbling, his mouth silently  \n  \nwide open. Hmm I can't make out any teeth.  \nWhen you're as void of emotion and sympathy for people as I am, the only real pleasure you  \n  \nget out of this is the philosophical stimulation, such as thinking of something witty to  \n  \nsay before you end a life. Just like they do in the movies. I take aim for his right  \n  \neyesocket and finally the time is perfect for a oneliner. But I can't think of anything.  \n  \nHave to say something, such a waste of a timeless moment otherwise.  \nWithout thinking about what I'm saying, I hiss, \"My eyesss are dead...\"  \nThe old man closes his eyes, unable to bare looking down the barrel of my gun as I reap his  \n  \nsoul and end his life. I pull the trigger.  \n  \nWould've been prettier had his eyes been open when the bullet impacted. I tilt my head to  \n  \nthe side before my mind wanders on. \"My eyes are dead?\", I repeat, mumbling to myself as if  \n  \nasking for the meaning. Is there a meaning? Did my subconsciousness bring those words to  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; the surface for any purpose or was it just a random spur of the moment attempt to try to  \n  \nscare an already scared old man on his death bed?  \n  \nNext thing I know a cold bullet passes through my back, punctures my lung and exits through  \n  \nmy chest and hits the wood wall infront of me. I drop down, double over, pushing the  \n  \nstretch away with quite a bit of force as my body falls against it.  \n\"Your \\*ass\\* is dead.\", witty little Antonio speaks from behind of me. I smile. He managed  \n  \nto make sense of what I could not. He took it and made it his own. I admire that.  \n  \nBy now he probably realises that my gunshot wound is already healing fast. If not, he'll be  \n  \neven more surprised now that I'm slowly getting back to my feet. Better not give him a  \n  \nheartattack so I keep my eyes closed while reaching to pick up my sunglasses. Will he pump  \n  \nan additional couple of rounds into me or is he smart enough to just leave it at that?  \n  \nHe slowly lowers his gun. Clever guy.  \n\"What are you, Murdoch?\", he asks me while I examine the almost fully healed bullethole on  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; my chest with two fingers.  \n\"It's Viper, now that you've seen my true colors.\", I casually respond and walk past him,  \n  \nheading for the door.  \n\"What the hell are you, Murdoch?!\", he shouts after me.  \n\"In the mood of getting paid.\", I snarl at him and gestures for him to follow. He doesn't  \n  \nneed to know. He's just the sorry human being they sent along to witness the slaughter and  \n  \nsee to it that no rules are broken, moral rules not included.  \nOn the ride back to HQ I convince him by using scare tactics to not try and spread the word  \n  \nof me being not human. He can call me Viper from now on if he feels like it. My secret is  \n  \nsafe from the rest, for now. And as long as I'm human to them they don't care how I get the  \n  \njob done, as long as I get it done.  \nThey order the hits but never care until they individually sit down to dine with the devil.  \n  \nSeeing it for themselves, ofcourse they object to the methods and get the urge to be more  \n  \nhumane. Heard an old saying once, that goes, \"It's easy to be brave from a distance.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Cruelty is no different.  \n\u0026nbsp;  \n  \n\n"}