|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 20, 2013 12:12:06 GMT -8
"Well, uh..."
"Won't be a problem if you get down off'it right now. It's ours now, see."
Delilah yawned at the threat, but slid off the hood of the truck all the same. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet and took a step forward, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans. Her smile was deceptively welcoming. Inviting. Hai, dozo onegaishimasu.
Heeheehee~.
"Sure thing, gents. It's yours, " Something in the way her lips curled and how her eyes widened might almost seem...evil at this point, and certainly daring. "...if you can take it from me."
On the left hand side of the car, the two men exchanged a glance at the sight of the man's iridescent red eyes. One with a chunk of lead piping similar to the others looked only slightly more determined than the fearful one Delilah was facing. The second held a wicked little shiv in his hand, his face set with the task at hand.
As the other men began to approach Delilah, they would follow suit, approaching steadily...unlike thier counterparts, however, they didn't stop at a set distance. As they closed to five feet, the man with the lead pipe barreled forward, aiming to tackle Cain to the ground. The man with the shiver would hover back a couple paces, waiting for an opening. |
|
|
|
Post by Vespyr on Feb 21, 2013 13:53:58 GMT -8
Here we go.
Cain unwound at the man's attack, leaping away from the hood of the car with nefarious enthusiasm. His knee sprang up to slam into the guy's guts. He'd grab the doubled-over man by his hair and throw him off to the side headfirst. A quick glance was made to the other guy with the shiv in case he had decided to move in, but whether or not he was still hesitating a few paces away, Cain would side-step toward the man he had downed and jump-- both boots in the air, only to slam down again on top of the guy's skull an instant later, a swift coup-de-grace.
His hand dove toward his jacket pocket...
Meanwhile, the two men on Delilah's side of the car found themselves enticed, but a little bit unnerved by the woman's dare. It was her confidence that scared them, as if she were hiding something, some sort of trap.
But how foolish would they look if they backed down now?
Swallowing reluctance, the men would separate and begin circling around Delilah in opposite directions to move in at either flank. The man on her right would swing his pipe overhead, attempting to bring it down onto her head and shoulders, while the man to her left made a horizontal swing for her abdomen.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 21, 2013 18:49:17 GMT -8
Delilah just kept as the two men started to circle around her. Her chest and shoulders vibrated with suppressed laughter, blue eyes gleaming wickedly in the dark of the night. She remained still, not even turning her head to follow their movements. She could feel the anticipation of the impending attack. She didn't move.
They swung as they came to the apex of their circle, standing at her flank. She didn't move.
She didn't need to.
The lead pipes collided with all the intended force on the targets they were aimed for. The first smashed against the top of the mechanic's head with a resounding clang of metal on bone. The second walloped her in the front of her abdomen, and she bent forward slightly from the impact. For an instant, everything on her end was quiet.
And then she started to laugh.
"Ha..haha hahaaaahahaHAHA HAHAAA!!!
She straightened as her mirth escaped her, looking round at her opponents with that same too-wide grin, her stare wide with predatory intent. It was as though she hadn't even been touched. Not a scratch or any indication she had been hit registered on her body. And for a moment, there was only her laughter.
The sound of her mirth stopped abruptly as she locked eyes with the man who had tried to bash her head in, tsking and shaking her head from side to side. Too bad...
Her hand lashed out, gripping him tight around the wrist that held the pipe and pulling him in towards her; propping her free hand against her hip in boshiken on her left hand side, aiming for his liver. Should it connect, this pinpoint strike would stop the function of the liver for a time as well as send shooting pains all throughout his abdomen. Whether or not it worked, Delilah would move her hand from his wrist and grab the man by his hair. Similar in the manner in which she had thrown Cain earlier, she would turn on her feet and swivel her hips, hurtling this man into his comrade behind her.
Toying with them, like a cat with a wounded bird between her paws.
(2/2 nulls used)
The man's eyes widened as suddenly his target was standing in front of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what was coming next, but this guy was too fast, too strong to even imagine countering.
Aw, fu--
The man retched as Cain's knee collided with his sternum, bending his insides painfully inwards. He couldn't even cry out in pain as he was thrown unceremoniously to the side by his hair, a few chunks of which would cling tenaciously to Cain's hands. He lay there on the ground, coughing trying to get his air back.
"Daniel, move!"
Daniel had just enough time to open his eyes and see the soles of the man's boots before they crashed down on his head. Then, he saw no more.
The man with the shiv stared in horror at the sick crack as his partner's neck snapped and Cain's feet crushed the side of the man's head inward under his weight. Blood and a trickle of depressurized grey matter started leaking from the crack in his caved-in temple. There was no doubt that Daniel was dead.
He turned his attention back to Cain, an angry snarl on his face. "You sonuvaBITCH!" The man darted forward, aiming a high swipe for the taller man's neck and flashing it down for a horizontal slash to his belly, loosely following the path of a "z".
|
|
|
|
Post by Vespyr on Feb 22, 2013 2:53:15 GMT -8
Cure for that itch
"GAHAHAHAHAHA.
"Don't talk about my mother that way." Cain retorted, his voice taunting and facetious… and somehow eerily serious despite the teasing grin sported across his face. He leaned back as swiftly as the man swiped at him with the knife, letting the blade come within mere centimeters of his throat. As his arms rose instinctively for balance, the switchblade appeared in his hand, flicked open. Cain swiveled his torso to one side and caught the other guy's wrist with his free hand, then jammed his knife straight into the man's hip. He'd leave it jutting out of the pelvic bone. With his upper body already positioned to do so, now, Cain's torso unwound to hurl the man toward the ground sideways. Given that he was throwing the man roughly by his arm with a twist, that arm would probably snap somewhere along the elbow.
Cain would start walking toward the man on the ground, casually… with only a half-faded smile on his face. A feverish throbbing had taken root in his temples and it burned to be appeased. Where his hands hung at his sides, his fingers tapped an odd little rhythm in the air, as if they were doing a murderous little jig.
Just moments prior:
With a stifled groan of pain, the man to Delilah's right suddenly found himself at her left side… barreling haphazardly into his friend. The second man, as dumfounded as the first, attempted to catch him but found himself backpedalling and falling on his ass despite his efforts.
His brain was still reeling, trying to figure out what had just blocked both hits to the lady… but he snapped out of it and pushed the other guy off of him, clambering to his feet. He held the pipe defensively and took a few shuffling steps toward the woman. One, two moments of hesitation… and he'd swing the pipe at her once more, horizontal, in line with her ribcage.
Meanwhile, the other guy attempted to get to his feet… slowly… his side seizing up in pain.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 22, 2013 3:55:15 GMT -8
Delilah would wait patiently for the men to get back up, almost with some strange semblance of politeness. Her eyes moved to her two targets, plotting a new course for their destruction.
He swung and she groaned inwardly. AMATEURS! Telegraphing movement, leaving openings. And slow. So slow. For a moment, it crossed Delilah's mind that she knew what they were going to do before the idea even occurred to them. Or, maybe she was just that much faster than they were.
Before his swing could really get going, Delilah stepped into the inside of the strike, raising a hand briefly to 'check' the man's arm to cancel out his momentum. The touch would be feather light, a gentle push on the inside of his elbow...and at complete opposites with her next attack.
Her free hand shot out, grabbing the man around the front of his throat. Strong fingers would dig in to the flesh just behind his trachea. Her right leg came up, and she kicked him hard in the stomach as she pulled the hand on his throat back sharply. With his body trying to go in two directions, his trachea should give, snapping away from the esophagus and, perhaps, bulging partwpartway out of his throat. Not QUITE, done yet, the hand that had pulled back flew forward again in a straight jab to the man's face with as much strength as she could muster. Results may vary.None of them pretty.
Grinning broadly, Delilah would turn to the man who had, thus far, gotten off lightly. She stalked towards him, shoulders lifted around her ears, hands like claws, her gaze even and voracious. "Next~?"
It all happened in a blur. One minute he was trying to slice this guy to ribbons, the next he was on the asphalt, howling in agony at the knife jammed into his hip, and as his arm flailed uselessly below the elbow, where it had dislocated. He bucked and heaved on the ground, torn between trying to get back to his feet and being unable to thanks to the sharp metal grinding against his hip. His arm was of no help. Every so often in his wordless screams of pain and rage, English would occasionally form as if by accident.
"YOU FUCKIN BASTARD, YOU SHIT FACED COME-GURGLING MOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRRRAAAAAAGHHH!!!!"
He would attempt to throw the shiv at Cain, loosely aimed for his head.
((OOC: You always pick the best music D,,,: so good. ))
|
|
|
|
Post by Vespyr on Feb 22, 2013 14:30:38 GMT -8
The grin having all but faded from his face, the only hint of malicious amusement glinted in Cain's red eyes as he approached the wounded man at a measured pace. The harsh words would receive no audile response but quiet chuckling which petered out after a few moments as Cain loomed over the man with eerie focus in the depths of his dilated pupils.
He heard something whiz by his ear, a scrape and a sting grazing across the bare side of his head. A thin trail of blood dripped lightly in its wake but he hardly noticed it beneath the eager burning ache rooted deeply within his skull, pressing him onward. This only seemed to stall him for a moment before he stooped to grab the man's wrist, and grinning in silence, would begin dragging the man by his dislocated arm, the pull slow and agonizing… toward the curb.
Meanwhile, a body hit the ground with a heavy thud and a gurgle on Delilah's side of the car; the man's throat wrenched outward, choking sounds bubbling up from it.
A look of horror overtook the agony on his friend's face, just as he'd begun pushing himself up from the asphalt. He threw his frightened, furious glare at Delilah and snarled. He lunged up from the pavement, reaching for her throat with his fingers viciously curled.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 22, 2013 15:26:16 GMT -8
He lunged for her throat as he finally got to his feet. A nice little opening there. How kind of him~.
Delilah's hand would lash out as he came within inches of her, grabbing his wrist as she pivoted to the outside, bringing his arm down and back with her momentum with a painful wrench. She would lay her other hand lightly against the back of his elbow, putting him in an arm bar that also would lock up his shoulder. She applied more pressure, forcing him to bend at the waist as she turned his hand up to point at his shoulder.
In the days of feudal Japan, during the creation of techniques and the martial arts we know today, men and women were strung up in such a manner that a potential technique could be practiced on them. How much pressure it would take to break a shoulder, at what angle could you kill someone with a punch to the face, how many times could a blade cut through bone without dulling, etcetera. This gave us our knowledge of pressure points, how to break bones, how joints and muscles worked...in other words, the concept of lethal force. Normally, Delilah had to be careful not too use too much of this knowledge, for it could lead her down the wrong path.
But now, she saw the openings, the places where brutality could be visited upon a person with the right application of pain. It was too tempting an opportunity to pass up.
Chuckling darkly under her breath, Delilah would turn on her hips and raise her leg, giving the man a baseball bat kick with her shin on the left side of his body. This foot would come straight down with her heel on his toes. If she continued to hold his arm right, he wouldn't fall, because she controlled his center of balance.
The opposite knee would come up for a spike to his tail bone. Then, she began to apply more pressure to the arm bar, and as she snapped her body to one side to add a twist, his wrist, elbow and shoulder should all dislocate at the same time. Keeping her knee pressed into his back, she looped his arm back around as though it were a rope, wrapping the limb around his neck. Bracing her hand against the back of his head, she would give the arm a sharp yank; given the position of some of the bones, one or two of them might break and splinter in side the fleshy sack of his arm.
Another wordless scream erupted from the man as Cain grabbed him by the wrist. The pain was blinding; tears streamed down his face as he shrieked obscenities and demanded that he stop all in the same breath. The road pulled at his clothes and skin, leaving little pieces of him behind in addition to the trail of blood from the knife wound. Though that was nothing in comparison to the pain in his hip and the fire in his arm.
Through his clouded vision, he saw where the red-eyed man was dragging him. A curb. The implication shot through him and, despite his hip and arm being completely shot, he started struggling, kicking his legs to push himself away from Cain and the curb. He panicked, his voice picking up a few octaves as he started to sob.
"NO!! YOU FUCKING FUCKER, LET ME GO, LET ME GO YOU PIECE OF SHIT I DON'T WANNA DIE LET ME GOOOO!!"
|
|
|
|
Post by Vespyr on Feb 22, 2013 16:11:18 GMT -8
Cain reached down to grab a handful of the man's hair, and by his head and wrist flipped him over roughly onto his stomach. A heavy boot stamped on his back to hold him down for a moment while Cain just stared down, the corner of his lip creeping up. He reached down to grab the man's hair again and dragged his face toward the edge of the curb. For a moment crouching on top of him, his other hand forced its way into the man's mouth to pry open his jaw and fit it over the corner of the pavement.
The sole of his boot would keep the guy's head in place while Cain straightened up again with his other foot still planted firmly on the small of the man's back. His hands hung at his sides, limply. He stared. If there were any muffled screams, they'd go unheard. Quickly, he lifted the sole of his boot up and slammed it down again on his heel.
And he knelt down, pulling his knife out of the man's hip… reaching up toward the man's neck. His back would be turned to Delilah at this point, but she'd see his elbow moving back and forward in a sort of sawing motion.
-------
Instant regret. Frantic, high-pitched yelps of agony struggled from the man's throat. He could hardly even fathom where his own limbs were anymore, but he knew they were still there only because he could feel a gut-wrenching pain shooting from them as the bones splintered. He screamed. Unintelligible, choked cries and sobs of pain. Whimpers. It sounded almost like he was trying to apologize, to make her let him go, but he had a sickening feeling it was too late for that.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 22, 2013 17:14:43 GMT -8
Continuing to pull on her opponent's arm as hard as she could, she would wrap the limb around the man's neck as she pulled, stretching the elastic of his skin while the bone continued to snap and crack, not being able to follow suit. She was only able to wind the arm around his head one more time, but perhaps that would be enough; his arm would bleeding from the places where the bone had broken through the skin, perhaps even jutting into his neck and chest.
Then, she would seize his other arm and do the same, wrapping it about his waist this time. Grasping him by his shoulder to keep him upright, Delilah would walk around him to face him, looking at this man almost with an almost thoughtful expression. Serene. What next?
She started pulling the shards of bone from his skin.
She would only need two, but it would take her a minute or so to find a pair that were long enough to suit her purposes. Any garbled screams or attempts to get away would be ignored. Once she had her pair,she would lift one up to examine it, nod...and then, with agonizing slowness, push one into each of the man's eyes, one at a time, as far as they would go.
By the time she was done, she would let the man slump to the ground at last, blood smeared on her palms and across her exposed collarbone. She would look over to Cain and the carnage that surrounded him, watching with a small smirk of bemused interest alighting upon her features. She slipped her bowie knife out of it's sheath, wiggling it suggestively at him. "Need a hand?"
As Cain moved the man into the appropriate position, he would struggle valiantly. Kicking and screaming, too weak to put up any real fight. When he was flipped over, a hoarse shriek left him as the knife was driven deeper into his hip, garbling into nothing as his jaw was pried open uncermoniously and placed upon the curb. He squirmed, a futile effort that was becoming less and less desperate with each passing moment.
Cain's steel-toe boot came down on his head. He was aware of an unimaginable pain for the instant it registered across his synapses before they simply stopped firing all together.
|
|
|
|
Post by Vespyr on Feb 22, 2013 18:00:52 GMT -8
If only the man hadn't blacked out, the screams would have been delightfully deafening. But once his other arm began to twist about his body, enough was enough. Delilah would feel the man go limp, hardly conscious by the time his eyes were impaled on his own bones. If by some miracle he woke up sometime later, he would know he'd found Hell.
The streets were eerily silent again. Many of the curious, shadowed faces had disappeared, only making way for new ones as people cautiously stepped into the street to investigate the terrible sounds.
From where Cain crouched, steadily slicing through the thick muscles and tendons in the corpse's neck, he didn't seem to hear Delilah. His attention was riveted to his task. His hands were drenched in blood up to his wrists. A few splatters of red dotted his chin and neck while his own blood dripped lightly from the laceration above his left ear and streamed down the line of his neck where it stained the collar of his shirt. But he felt good.
He dropped the soaked knife and firmly planted his hands on either side of the dead man's skull, or what was left of it. Now that the meat was cut through, all he had to do was sharply TWIST the head to snap the neck vertebrae. Cain held up the smashed, severed head in his hands, seeming to admire it for a moment before he tossed it to the side. He side-stepped in his crouch to roll the dead body onto its back, and then tore away its shirt to find himself staring down at the unbreathing chest with a little bit of a smile. Just a little bit. His glare burned down upon the corpse with an odd sort of concentration as he began to saw his knife down from the collarbone to the stomach. Flesh parted with a gush of blood as the body opened up. Cain dug his fingers under the skin on either side of the wound and tore it apart to reveal the man's sternum and ribcage. And then he raised his fist, slamming it down onto the sternum with a painful CRACK.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 22, 2013 19:23:38 GMT -8
Delilah watched for a moment more with Cain at his grizzly work, finding herself smiling broadly. Oddly enough, his attention to detail and single minded progression of the mutilated corpse reminded her of her own trade as a mechanic. It was eerily similar; he was dismantaling the body, pulling it apart with familiarity and ease, as though he had done it all before. A few times.
Laughing quietly to herself, Delilah turned back to her own victims, tapping the tip of her knife lightly against her lower lip, accidentally making an incision on the left corner. Surprised by the pain, she bit down on the small cut, causing blood to well and roll down her her chin in red rivers. She shook her head in bewilderment at her own carelessness. Had to happen sometime.
As if deciding, Delilah went to the first man she had destroyed, still tap-tapping away against her chin with her over-sized knife. She made her decision and dropped down to a crouch over this man. She made a quick gash along his throat; blood spurted, and then seeped down into his chest. Using the serrated edge of her bowie knife, she started hacking her way through the neck, the blade slicing easily through the flesh. Once she got to the bone, one or two good whacks with the knife cracked the vertebrae and another quick slice took care of the spinal cord all together.
Holding the decapitated head in her hands, she examined it for a moment, nodding as if to herself. Prying open the man's jaw, she jammed the knife through to the back of his head, peircing the occipital lobe and cracking the bottom part of tke skull. She started to make quick, saw like gestures, as though carving a pumpkin.
Laying the head to the side, Delilah would proceed to slit the man's belly. Intestines, now released from their fleshy prison, spilled out into the man's lap. She wrinkled her nose at the stench, grabbed a handfupnof some of the slippery organ and cut it in half. Threading the organ through the hole she had made in the man's head, she set it in his lap and stretched the organ past his feet. She took a moment to position the hands around the head before getting to her feet. She leaned the body upright against a nearby cinderblock and turned, looking to Cain with a wide smile.
Feeling MUCH better.
|
|
|
|
Post by Vespyr on Feb 23, 2013 17:33:35 GMT -8
Through the cracked, gaping hole of the chest plate the corpse's heart was wrenched out of its nest, the warm organ crushed in Cain's bloody fist. He held it up and silently admired it as he'd done the cadaver's decapitated head. The man's red eyes flicked up from the prize to meet briefly the sea of silent, awestruck stares. The terror and loathing were palpable, he could feel them, and a satanic, prideful grin eased its way to the corners of his mouth. He rose, slowly, and raised his fist with the heart in the air only to throw it viciously at a few onlookers down the street.
He stood still, staring, for a long moment, as a feeling of clarity seemed to ebb to his head where the aching in his temples had been, the burn soothed… for the moment. He turned around and found Delilah smiling at him. An instant passed where the red-eyed man gazed at her blankly as if he was surprised to see her there, but that was immediately swept away by the same nefarious smile he'd given her a hundred times before and he began pacing back toward the truck.
"Was it as god for you as it was for me?~" he sneered, raising his brow suggestively as he reached into his pocket for the car keys.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 23, 2013 17:42:09 GMT -8
Grinning back at him, she gave a contented sigh as her response while she sucked on her lip, sauntering back to the truck with the bodies still lying in the street. The sight of him crushing the man's heart had reminded her of his tattoo, in a way. 'Came, saw, conquered'. Quite so.
"Damn good. We may have to do that again some time," she purred, sliding into the passenger seat beside him. She leaned over, plucking her earring from the hollow plug of his ear...and then she noticed the cut along the side of his head. Chuckling, she lifted her hand up to swipe at the blood oozing from the cut, bringing it to her already bleeding lip and sucking it clean. Maintaining eye contact this time.
"Let's get out of here, shall we?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Vespyr on Feb 23, 2013 18:00:33 GMT -8
Cain stared hard at the girl with both bloody hands clutching the wheel. His long fingers tightened against the leather for a moment as he watched her suck his blood from her fingers again. His red glare flicked down to the cut on her lip, her blood leaking from it tenderly. He glanced up at her coquettish eyes again, his smile having vanished, his visage strangely serious.
Oh now ya fuckin' done it.
Cain reached over steadily to wrap his large, bloodstained hand around Delilah's hand which she'd been sucking on, and he would firmly but carefully lower it from her face and press her hand down onto the seat closer to himself than her. It would make her lean toward him as he leaned toward her across the seat, and as he carefully took her bleeding bottom lip between his teeth, that stern eye contact would still go unbroken unless Delilah had broken it. Cain sucked lightly at the girl's lip while he kept staring at her with insistent but patient hunger. The tip of his tongue sliding along the cut would sting a little, but his eyes would burn her more than that.
|
|
|
|
Post by Delilah A. Black on Feb 23, 2013 18:24:04 GMT -8
There was a familiar little flutter in her chest as Cain locked eyes with hers, a tingle when he grabbed her hand and pulled it down on the seat towards him. Something about that stare of his...the almost possessive way he grabbed her hand. It made her blood sing. She met his burning eyes with her own, cool blue smoulder even as his face neared hers.
She let out a soft groan as he took her lower lip into his mouth with a pleasant twinge of pain. Her eyelids flickered over her orbs for a moment and she let her body drift closer to his. Her body gave a light shake of want. Far in the back of her mind, she noted how long Stu had been AWOL without a word to her or, as far as she knew 'Unfettered' and his 'replacement'. She was burning for Cain now, despite everything she knew about him, going up in smoke . It was all the justification she needed.
With a growl, she pushed her face forward a little, raking her teeth against his upper lip. Her body inched closer. "We should leave" she murmured against his mouth, voice soft and husky.
|
|
