Post by prince on Oct 14, 2009 15:05:00 GMT -7
Death. Deception. Treachery. All things that came from this field of business. But what did he care? Blood was a very welcome thing to him. He liked the pleasure of killing another human being, being covered in the tainted blood of vampires and werewolves alike. This was his time now.
He walked slowly and carefully into Izan Headquarters. Not because he didn't like it there, but because it was night time and the lights in the building hurt his eyes. He growled a little, one of his kills in the backpack he had with him, dripping blood down the main floors. But what did he care? He was human, the scent of blood didn't bother him any.
He made his way deeper into the HQ, making it known that he was there. Between the heavy thump of his boots against the linoleum, the scent of blood that lingered over him always, and of course, that bright wicked grin. His job had been completed early, they usually were. He was a killing genius at times it seemed.
Some called him a spider for making webs of thin, nearly invisible wire. Others said he was more of an indestructible machine than any vampire or werewolf. But he really wasn't. He was human, but a psychotic one. And sometimes, that was worse.
He walked to his superior's office, and dropped the backpack in front of the door, grabbing the next task sheet from the pile. The others were getting sloppy. He turned on his heel and walked back towards the exit, but reading the sheet caused more trouble for him than just walking, he ran straight into someone.
He walked slowly and carefully into Izan Headquarters. Not because he didn't like it there, but because it was night time and the lights in the building hurt his eyes. He growled a little, one of his kills in the backpack he had with him, dripping blood down the main floors. But what did he care? He was human, the scent of blood didn't bother him any.
He made his way deeper into the HQ, making it known that he was there. Between the heavy thump of his boots against the linoleum, the scent of blood that lingered over him always, and of course, that bright wicked grin. His job had been completed early, they usually were. He was a killing genius at times it seemed.
Some called him a spider for making webs of thin, nearly invisible wire. Others said he was more of an indestructible machine than any vampire or werewolf. But he really wasn't. He was human, but a psychotic one. And sometimes, that was worse.
He walked to his superior's office, and dropped the backpack in front of the door, grabbing the next task sheet from the pile. The others were getting sloppy. He turned on his heel and walked back towards the exit, but reading the sheet caused more trouble for him than just walking, he ran straight into someone.