If one traversed deep into the residential district, past the main city and well-to-do neighborhoods, they would encounter the downtown area.
And if one perhaps decided to go even further, then they would discover the slums, a labyrinth of low-rise buildings that one could only traverse on foot.
And by foot, a familiar woman traversed this land with a kind of casual glee that could only be possessed by the likes of her, a lollipop in her mouth.
In this dim evening (where shadowy clouds swallowed the sun) she wore a glaring bright rainbow hoodie over her delicate fra, her flip-flops making soft slapping sounds on the damp, uneven ground.
The air around her slled of overused grease and open sewage, but she seed utterly unbothered, nor was she bothered by the n who cast leering gazes at her, or the prostitutes who whispered to one another upon seeing her.
Rather, she focused on traversing the cracked path, ducking under old, leaning buildings or ramshackled husks of rusted tal and rotten wood.
Walking beside her one could see a figure clad in a dark hood that seed straight out of dieval tis. Though he looked ridiculous, his attire served its purpose of hiding his presence (not because it helped him blend in (he stuck out like a sore thumb) but because his partner drew all the attention to herself).
The cloak did, however, conceal the person’s figure rather well, his steps steady as he followed after Athyst.
But at that mont, Athyst stopped, her eyes narrowing as she heard sothing, her steps transitioning into a light jog.
"Big sister?" The clocked figure muttered and followed, his cloak fluttering with the wind.
Soon he caught up to her and found Athyst amid a group of large n in an alley, her form pushing through them in an attempt to better hear the radio.
"Mad bitch-"
"Who da fuck is you?"
Surprised exclamations rang out from the n around her, shocked at the young woman’s audacity.
One of them, a bald man in a wife-beater, did not share their shock; rather, he narrowed his eyes at the sight of Athyst.
"Hoo," he let out a puff of smoke while nodding to one of his buddies, a shorter man with a muscular build wearing a blue T-shirt.
"Big sister," the cloaked figure tried to beckon to her when he noticed that the alley was half filled with visible smoke.
The n were spread out, drinking, playing cards, and listening to the radio. It all seed like good fun.
[...authorities have confird the ssage was a direct response to the killer known as ’The Artist.’ The phrase ’When did you beco a rat, Artist do you feel threatened?’ suggests a potential turf war or a personal challenge between these two killers. The investigation is...]
"Bam!" Athyst suddenly slamd hard on the radio, causing the device to buzz oddly before it stopped playing, an odd, prolonged silence lingering in the air.
All eyes turned to Athyst, but the woman did not seem to care. Rather, her eyes narrowed in deep thought, the playful look in them fading by the second.
She then tilted her head slightly, the faint electric blue shimr in her black hair catching the light for an instant as more n walked into the alley.
The cloaked figure felt the gazes of a few people behind him, and when he turned, he saw several n standing at the alley’s entrance, most likely another group of hooligans, all dressed in black.
’She’s like a magnet,’ he thought calmly, watching the n as they watched him.
Athyst also seed to have noticed the developnt as well. For her glowing crimson eyes, which had been passively observing the decay, now narrowed as they scanned the n with unknown intent. Then a smile spread across her lips. "Hey, boys, nice weather today, wouldn’t you agree?"
"Hahah! We sure do!" The leader of the hooligans blocking the alleyway entrance chuckled lightly in response. He was a lanky youth with a knife scar bisecting his eyebrow, his light laugh exposing his yellowed teeth.
"Well, well. Look what the tide washed in," the bald man inside the alley sneered, his eyes crawling over Athyst’s colorful hoodie before he spoke, "Ya lost, rich girl. This ain’t no place for a rainbow."
A low chuckle erupted from his companions at those words, their movents intense as they stepped slightly closer to Athyst and the cloaked figure.
"Big sister?" The cloaked figure spoke, his voice steady, but Athyst remained quiet.
The bald man, who seed to be the leader of the n inside the alley, was disgusted by the cloaked figure’s remark. "You want ya big sister to save you, faggot?" he sneered
"He ain’t done cosplaying. Leave the fag alone," another person chid in, and laughter erupted in the alleyway.
"I suddenly want to traumatize another young soul. Hey, kid, how would you like to see your big sis get fucked?" the one with the scar said as he took a step closer, his gaze dropping from Athyst’s face to linger on her body, his intent as clear as the filth on the ground.
"You better get a move on, Big Joe. This gal is my bitch," the bald man in the wife-beater said as he stepped forward as well, his muscles bulging slightly.
Big Joe smiled at those words, his breath light as he raised both his arms, "I ain’t got no problem going seconds, you can have the bitch first."
"I’ma do more than have the bitch," the bald man spoke with a scoff, his words inciting yet another series of chuckles from his group.
"Yeah, let’s fuck the bitch up! We’ll shove our dicks in all her holes until she’s overflowing with cum," a giddy, female voice cut in, bringing everyone’s attention back to Athyst, who now had the widest smile on her face.
"You think ya funny bitch," one of the bald man’s n walked up to Athyst and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her towards his form with a violent shove.
"Thwack!" What followed appeared to be Athyst throwing a lightning-fast punch at the man’s throat, blood spewing like a fountain as he staggered with widened eyes.
He then fell to the ground with a thud, his body convulsing as more blood leaked out from his punctured throat.
"Shit! She’s got a knife!"
"Fucking bitch," the n cursed at the sudden developnt, barely able to suppress their rage, as two to three of them sward towards Athyst at once.
"That’s not fair," the red-eyed woman muttered and stepped back, but in the next mont, one of the guys caught onto her from behind.
"Bam!" The clocked figure, on the other hand, was pushed against a wall by one of the n, his form calm as he rely observed.
"Sit still, fagot, and watch ya sister get cracked," the bald-headed man spoke, as he rushed up to Athyst, retrieving a small knife from his pocket as well.
"Ohh no," Athyst suddenly exclaid in a dramatic over-the-top fashion, as she struggled within the unknown man’s grasp, her knife falling on the floor with a clang.
"Hold her still, Ralph," the bald man laughed as he approached, yet in that instant, he fell, seemingly tripping against himself.
"Haha, you’re that excited, old man?" Big Joe chuckled when he saw this, but the smile left his face when he saw the balled man try and fail to rise to his feet once more.
The cloaked figure scoffed at this sight, shaking his head slightly as though sorry for the n.
"What the fuck is this?" The balled man groaned as he tried to stand, but it felt alien, deeply unfamiliar, a conscious effort that he had to maintain.
"Boss?"
"You okay big man?" Two of his n tried to help him up imdiately, hauling his body by his two arms.
When he finally rose, his knees buckled, his gaze expressing deep confusion.
"You okay, big man, still waiting on that whole rape thingy," Athyst’s voice sounded out, both her arms held behind her back by Ralph, a rather robust man.
"Shut up bitch," Ralph suddenly spoke, his words catching in his breath as he felt sothing, a sense of impending doom, ’I’m about to die-’ he thought.
"Badump-" In that mont, he felt his heartbeat seize, and in seconds, his vision began to dim out.
"Bang!" The crowd gasped as another man fell to the ground, his form unmoving this ti, lifeless.
But that was only the beginning, as more and more n began to fall, including the one who held the cloaked figure still.
The n who had fallen now lay motionless on the ground, their deaths as pathetic as the alley they died in.
Now there were only four n left: Big Joe, the bald man with a wife-beater, and the two n who helped him up.
Big Joe felt his heart pounding in his chest as he thought, ’What the fuck is happening?’
With that, he turned back and sprinted out of the alleyway (or at least he tried). For the mont, he took a step forward, the ground beneath his feet seemingly disappeared, prompting him to fall, his gaze blurring as he collided violently with the concrete.
When his gaze cleared, he found himself lying down in the sa alley he was before, but rather than the entrance where he previously stood, he was now much deeper in, behind Athyst and the bald man.
Quickly, he turned to look behind him and caught a glimpse of what could only be described as a hole in reality closing itself. When he looked forward, he saw the bald man in the wife-beater, still propped up by his n, staring at him as though he’d seen a ghost.
Athyst looked to the cloaked man who stood by the entrance of the alleyway and smiled at his outstretched hand, "Show off," she chided as she stuck out her tongue, her taunt like that of a child.
The clocked man simply nodded at this sight, his eyes turning to the balled man and his n before turning back to her. "Just make it quick," he said.
Suddenly, Big Joe, who was behind Athyst, rose to his feet. "Fucking witch!" he scread, retrieving a pistol from his person. This prompted the cloaked man to raise his hand once more.
"Bang!" He shot it at Athyst, who had her back turned to him, and in that mont, he fell to the ground with a heavy thud, a bullet-sized hole appearing on his head.
Another hole in reality had appeared mid-air. As Big Joe fired into it, the exit manifested directly behind his own head.
"Jesus fucking Christ!"
"Fuck!" The two n who held the balled man up let him go and took fearful steps back. Their eyes widened, but it was too late to run; their sudden movent attracted Athyst’s gaze.
"Badump!"
Both n also fell to the ground simultaneously, their hearts failing them.
Now, the only one that remained alive in that alley was the bald-headed man wearing a wife-beater, his form trembling as he said, "Please, please don’t kill ."
Athyst did not answer him, she rely observed, a smile on her face when she registered his expression.
His expression was a mix of fear and desperation his body trembling as he crawled closer to Athyst, "Please-"
"Swoosh!" He suddenly lunged toward her, retrieving a knife from god knows where and taking a wide swing at her.
Reviews
All reviews (0)