By The_Mercenary 15 Comments
(To understand what exactly is being unveiled here, you'll need to check out my bio. A quick skim won't hurt ;)
The Hellfire Club, Italy.
Man oh Man... How freaking epic am I right now?... Really freaking epic.
The white-clad shadow slithered down the finely designed corridor, his footsteps whispers in a wind that was not blowing, his breathing more so. The excited heart that bounced around his rib cage edged him on, heightening his senses and amplifying his adrenaline. Tenfold. The almost cape-like cloak that was draped around his broad shoulders trailed along behind him, leaving little evidence of it's existence. His alert eyes scanning every nook and cranny, always on the lookout for any other patrons that might have decided to break off into this particularly secluded section of the esteemed Club. So far, so good. His orders were to get to the target, eliminate him, then get the hell out of there. Simple stuff, really. It seemed like an age for the rookie assassin as he made his way towards the large doors. He had graduated from D.E.A.T.H's trainee program just a month or so ago, and already the old man had given him the chance to shine. He didn't want to disappoint. Mainly because he preferred his handsome face in the condition that it was in now. That was why he had decided to become a mercenary after all, hadn't it? He had the looks of a model, the muscles of a Schwarzenegger, he just needed the money of a Trump. The chicks digged those kinda dudes. They did. Erik Dowdy had joined the gun-for-hire organization years ago, taking on the alias of Powder Puff. At the time, it had sounded badass, it matched with his stealth expertise. But all those years of ridicule and torture at the silly name had finally payed off. Powder Puff was going on a mission.
He unclipped his dual Puffers, a pair of modified silencer handguns, from their holsters, raising his arms slowly to point out ahead of him. He had read the report on his target. A feisty old man with a mean streak. Also, he occasionally set his entire body alight and burned down villages. A fun guy, really. Powder Puff took a final breath before entering the room. He would need it.
His eyes glazed over, turning white, his teeth sharpened to look similar to that of a dog's canines, and his face contorted into a look of ugly and ready rage. All this was happening beneath his mask, of course. His leg's tense once, and single foot shot out, tearing the sturdy door from it's hinges as if it were nothing but a cardboard box. His senses peaking already, he stepped into the room, Puffers blazing a trail of deadly lead projectiles aimed at a figure that stood with it's back facing the doorway. He didn't stop firing, he didn't release those gloved fingers from the triggers until his cartridge ran out and wisps of weary smoke drifted form the weapons' muzzle's.
His adrenaline buzz clearing slowly like a fog, his white eyes returned solemnly to their regular shade of grey, teeth becoming blunt once more. Every muscle in his young body still rippling and tensing, Erik Dowdy couldn't move for a moment. A bead of sweat that had prowled down his masked forehead broke his statuesque stance and his eyes snapped wide, a breath being exhaled slowly. On the other side of the room lay a bloodied man, a tattoo of holes riddling his previously clothed spine. He was an old male, grey hair sitting perfectly positioned on his head. His face turned away, Powder Puff was glad not to see the look of lifelessness that would be displayed. He had always hated it. The smell of death and the sight. The worst things, ever.
Shiiiiiiiiit man.... I'm a damn beast!
He nodded to himself slowly, an awkward grin leaping out across his features. He holstered his weapons and wiped some swag off of his shoulders. He had enough, already. He was about to break into a little jig of victory when he remembered his orders and turned to exit the room.
"You didn't bother to silence your rather loud entrance, and you were rather reckless with your termination. I bet I can find at least five holes in that now disfigured wall. Also, after disposing of your target, you didn't make sure that you were still alone, and everybody knows you don't leave the same way you entered. Neandrathal."
Powder Puff staggered backwards, his excited demeanor eradicated. An enormous shadow shone it's dark light down across Erik from the doorway.
"Huh?... Boss? M-M-Mercenary?"
Could it be? Had the founder of D.E.A.T.H come all this way just to witness Powder Puff's first mission execution? No ways... Surely he had better things to do. Either way, Erik Dowdy was trembling in utter and unadulterated fear at the powerful figure's aura as it reached out to fiddle at the corners of his mind.
"Hmph. Don't you dare compare me to that impudent little amateur. I am a force far greater than he, this I will show you."
The once fearless Powder Puff fell over backwards, landing in a pathetic heap on the darkened room's carpeted floor. A sad little whimper escaped his person. He was afraid.
A rush of air and his perfect face was torn apart by a cluster of otherworldly claws that seemed to appear out of thin-air. A dry sob of pain and his head fell apart, flayed by the sudden attack. His body reduced to a limp pile of flesh, it slumped lifelessly against the floor, blood seeping from the exposed neck wound. A large, hairy foot stepped down on his chest, pushing straight through to crush the entire rib cage. The once jovial heart spilled out and rolled across the torso, still. The massive shadow moved into a sliver of light and it's face was illuminated, for a brief but lingering moment.