He walked in slowly. Dressed clad, in a dark blue tank-top and charcoal grey trousers, he looked every bit the gym rat he was. His shoulders were large and rounded, like volumptious boulders, murky green veins threatening to tear through skin. Huge, ropes of thick, dense muscle, knotted around cannon like biceps, convulsing angrily in protest to his every move. A huge mountainous chest, bulging with lean, fatless muscle, tapers into a thin, rounded muscular line. His trousers, cling to his thighs, emphasising, lean, muscular sinew.
He moves gracefully, feet seeming to glide; devilishly fast across the gravel. His iron greh eyes, narrowed into thin suspicious slits; tell a story of paj. and suffering. Thin pronounced eyebrows arch into a menacing frown. The scars etchet deeply into his skin, stretcb across his face, marring his otherwise; godlike looks.
His arms hang lkmply at his sides, scarred hands wrapped jn a tight vice grip around the hardened steel of the blade. He always chose blades. Guns were unreliable. Guns could jam, bullets cluld run out... no. A good knife, a strong body, and cunning mind was all he needed. He shrugged his shoulders as he moved, and the relaxed posture of his body only served to intkmidage even more.
His large fat lips parted, exposing his pearl white teeth. "Im really sorry about this kid. But... you know the way things work. survival of tbe fittest. No more... no less."
The boy could have been no more than five. His thin l, scrawny body contrasted horribly with the mans, and his face, twisted into a picture of utter terror and hatred, was a mere shadow to the mans. "...I said, Im sorry"
Once, a long time ago, the man might have actually meant this. But that was in the past. The mans eyes, which long ago, wouldn't have seen past the mask of terror now cut through it like butter. He knew the boy wouldn't have survived all this time by being an angel. No, the mans eyes dadted furtively to the left and right, befors morosely fixing on the mass lf dead bodies littered on the sidewalk. Their bodies were no more than skeletons, only their faces remained. Untouched. The smatter of teeth marks across their remains spoke of the defilement they had faced.
Yes.There was no doubt about it. That boy was no innocent. "Who are they? Someone close to you? Friend?" The man paused. No... he couldnt have... "Family?" The momment he said the word he regretted it. Memories flashed tbrough his eyes instantaneously.
The boy smiled. His teeth, though yellow, were sharpenned to a ddeadly point. He pointed at one of the bodies. "My sista" he launched; an ugly hoarse sounde, heavy with madness. He pointed to another, "My mother" The mans face paled. He was not a stranger to pain. Beneath his vest, he bore crimson red scars, torn savagely across his skin; exposing networks of red-pink capillaries. He had seen atrocities. Hed watched as children were shot. Hed even done some himself. But this... was on another level.
The man trudged forward slowly, enunciating everg movement of his hulking limbs, his eyes, formerly a soft, sorrowful gems, glitter with rage and anger. A huge shadow casts over the boys emaciated frame. "Boy." All hints of kindness ebbed away. His words left his mouth in harsh guttural, monotonous anger. "I take it back. Im going to fucking kill you. Slowly. And painfully. Very, very painfully..."