From the dark alley way he observed. A monument to al that was sick and twisted in Roma,reeking death and poison,tainted by blood, no amount of unseasonable rain was able to wash away the black sin from his person. Eyes narrowing behind the mask he watched, as the rain sodden people of roma ran inside for cover, and as the young blond courtesan ran for her life, splashing puddles up her creamy pale legs, tearing her sluttish dress up on carts and rough walls as she squeezed past clueless by standers. He knew the backstreets far better than this novice whore, watching as her running gait was becoming more and more of a pained stagger at speed. He stepped out of the shadows, shrugging them off like a weather weight cloak of silk, walking at a steady pace towards her. The dumb bitch dived into an abandoned stall in the city limit's old livary stables. He gave a grunt of disapproval, the thrill of the chase was over, she had just cornered herself, holding the door closed crying and begging for one was no fun, already begging. It had taken him days and hours to break the female assassin,Auditore,she was some woman, having broken multiple shackles and chains and still was left standing after he was done with her.
He lifted his leg and kicked the door in, shattering it into splinters,the courtesan tried to hide and to find an escape. He loomed over her,this terrible bird like monster of a man. But a man none the less. He stood looking over her, her chest heaving and the thoughts of the Assassin had instilled a chill in his mind and stirred urges that had stayed dorment since ago. He knelt down right in front of her,grabbing her slender little neck, the courtesan whimpered and pleaded, he looked at her trough his mask, then reached for his belt with the other hand. She screamed and cried and begged, sighing in annoyance he shoved a gold coin in her mouth,shutting her up,loosening his belt, already she was complying,how tiresome. Looking down him growled with slight disgust,she had wet herself, tearing off part of her bodice he roughly wiped her. As rank as the thought was, these urges were too strong, the Assassin had planted herself in his mind,flashes of battle scarred pale flesh; thighs,back,shoulders,neck,breast. Behind his mask his grew cold, control ebbing away, with an almost animalistic growl he tore away his trousers, savagely pinning the breathing bacame a low rasping growl as he spread her legs foracably and opened her with gloved fingers, gripping his hardness, as thick and long as his fist around his axe, before pushing as much of himself as fast as he could inside, so roughly that even he screamed alittle. The whore was warm and good, but nothing like his prize victim. Her screaming with encumbered slightly by the coin but it was still noticable to anyone if they walked past. But even men did not dare approach him out of fear that his air struck into the hearts.
With a head movememnt much like that of a bird of prey he looked down, blood smeared,hers not his, it didn't excite him as much as pain to himself did. The Assassin had not bled,infact, she tore his back open with her nails. This made him question himself for a moment, why did he hunt these poor women,so weak and defenceless?Why did death rush him and make him feel so alive? Every kill more thrilling and satisfying than the last, this closeness to nightmares that seemed to become his identity, no one had ever stayed loyal to him,was that the problem? Feeling so spurned by society? Dottore's were respected,he was feared. Not that mattered anymore, he fed off fear now.
His mind fogged and hazed, slowly becoming intoxicated by the courtesans pleading,the memories and the build up of carbon dioxide behind the mask, his breaths becoming faster and shorter. Just like the Assassins promised she had kicked the beak off him,unmasked he was much more vulnerable but i his haste to correct her he hadn't replaced it. That's why he hadn't felt as sick as he did now. Stuck between the dual realities his thrusts became far more powerful, the Dottore drunk of the power and pleasure he had over both women at the same time despite the difference in times. He wasn't at all a gentle lover, ramming in right to the hilt, not paying any mind to the damage and tearing he caused the unfortunate victim in his grasp. She was not trained or conditioned to cope with as much pain as this,crying out with desperate begs for mercy to stop r kill her, just make it stop. Looking down at the contorted face of pain that lay beneith him he reached for his syringe that idly laid on the floor glinting up to him. The true depth of his sick mind cackled in his skull as he raised his arm in the air and he stabbed her. Her head fell to one side. Such elation! He pulled out and spilled himself over the straw, he had no desire to spill his seed in such an unworthy creature. He sat back looking down at himself,covered in blood, tearing off more of her dress and cleaning himself,taking his time. This had ended so differently from the Assassin. She had earned her freedom and walked away with her head held high, and left him lying on cold stone floor sweat damp and knew what would have happened after his poison set in, it was doubtful that a person could survive such heavy dosage but he wouldn't be surprised if she had lured her with talk of new found medicines, so clearly she was medical minded.
Looking down at the whore after sitting emersed in his thoughts, she looks so pale,far paler than when she was living. Would she be missed? Would anyone care, only the courtesans and their clients seemed to care when one or two of them went missing and were found poisoned to death and cut open, respectful people didn't seem to mind, they sniffed at it and walked on. The slums and backstreets were full of potential brothel memebers and many seedy knocking shops were scattered city wide. He wiped his needle smirking behind the mask, a little uneasy that he knew an assassin was out there that knew his face, this put him on edge and this pushed him closer to breaking point, but this killing had calmed the savage beast at growled and commanded that he have blood. Straightening his clothes as he stood up, he chirped in a bird like fashion as he looked outside and saw on the roof the same worry on his mind, she passed seeming not to notice him. He slipped out like a shadow after five more minuets of waiting,gliding along the streets and back into the shadows of his alley way lair, smirking to himself. He would go back for the corpse later, the fun that could be had the knowledge gleened from a fresh corpse.
The dottore once again became a shadow,leaning against the wall. Death becomes him.