The world was a crimson haze and all there was inside him was burning fury. Only the awareness of movement around him, a sense ingrained in his instincts more than it was perceived by his mind, compelled him to act. His body defended against every perceived attack and responded with its own counterattacks in sweeping slashes that felt detached from him. His conscience and reason were an island in a sea of primeval desires.
It was a sudden awareness of a foreign taste in his mouth that snapped the pirate back to reality. Stimuli flooded the empty vaults of his senses. It was dusk; the trees and broken ground were bathed in various hues of red and orange light. The air was so saturated with the smells of newly unearthed soil and blood that he had long ceased to recognize them. All was quiet, save for the crash of waves against rocks.
Killer straightened up from his battle stance and adjusted his hold on his weapons. A thick liquid had coated his hands and weapon, making his grip slip. But there was no reason to worry. Whatever it was he needed his weapons for was now an indiscernible mass of meat, bone and entrails at his feet. The grim grin of the man's hidden face dissolved into a familiar blankness and creased brows evened out.
With a well-practiced set of motions, his blades found themselves nestled back in their sheath. A bead of thick liquid crept down the contour of his cheek as he did, and diffused as it met the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips and found the same foreign rusty taste there, but swept it from his mind as he turned away from the carcass at his feet. He was almost surprised to find more mangled forms around him, some more fortunate than his last victim. Like a confused but curious child, he took in the scene. What did these idiots do to incur his wrath this time? He couldn't remember.
Killer sighed and shook his head. He would have to return to the ship for now. Whatever he planned to do in town had to wait until after he cleaned himself up. Nothing would be accomplished if he walked around like the bloody mess he knew he was.
A rustle of movement stopped this line of thought. He turned to it and watched bloodied arms try to lift their owner off the ground. Never veering his eyes from it, the pirate picked his way through fallen bodies until he stood before the survivor of his rampage. The body paused in its struggling; its fate must have dawned on it. Killer swung his hand down and grabbed the other man squarely by his throat. Resistance met his attack but he easily pulled the dead weight at eye level with his mask.
He smirk at the sight of his hands gripped over his prey's wide neck, but fascination turned into annoyance when large square fingers closed around his wrist. Glaring at the unwanted hand and willing them away, Killer channeled this new emotion to his fingers, digging into thin layers of flesh. The struggling form in his grip howled and added its other hand in its resistance. The scream was stifled into a breathless dry gurgle.
A burning crimson desire tingled beneath the surface of Killer's skin. As he stared at the bloodshot eyes of the dying man, a wide manic grin pulled at the corners of his mouth until he breathed through gritted teeth. His eyes widened with anticipation as the other's own traveled upwards into his own head. Empty crimson sclera stared back at him. He felt something snap in his grip and the hold on his wrist slackened. A pair of well-muscled arms dropped to the hulking mass of meat's side. Along with it, the man's head lolled to a side, jaw frozen in a final silent scream.
It all happened so fast that the young pirate couldn't help but feel like he had been left hanging. His hand stayed in its vice grip as he continued to stare at the tender flesh at his fingertips, grinning dementedly.
Without a second thought, he dug his digits deeper into the corpse's neck. He wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied. Tighter and tighter he squeezed until he had punctured the dead man's neck in five places. Blood dribbled from its open mouth and dripped onto Killer's forearm. It traveled down to his elbow, gathered there before finding its final destination on the ground below. Rivulets of thick liquid spiraled the same way down his arm from the holes he was boring steadily deeper into his victim's neck.
Die! Die! Die! He screamed in his head, face contorting into a maniacal grimace. He pumped one last burst of power to his hands before blacking out into a moment of ecstatic bliss. The blood, their fear and the reminder of his power were all too much to bear. Small jolts of electricity wracked his entire frame.
A dull thud snapped him once more back to reality. His hand was clenched and shaking before him in the empty air, closed upon solid slime. In a robotic succession of movements, he turned his head to the sound's origin. There he found his victim, empty eyes still staring and mouth silently screaming. A huge chuck of its neck was missing. Killer pulled his outstretched arm to himself and opened his fist. Blood, meat and soft bone met his eyes and he dropped it with disgust. He was surprised to see three small cuts on his palm where his own fingers had dug into.
Contemplatively, he stared at them. Never had his own blood been so interesting. He cast his eyes away only long enough to lift his mask over his nose. The bloodstained man wiped his hand carelessly on his shirt and brought it to his lips. As he ran his tongue across his palm, he noted the sharp rusty metallic taste of blood. Funny, it tasted no different from those he had killed.
His hand dropped to his side and he started walking. The last of the sunset hues had disappeared from the skies and the forest paths were hidden in darkness. Killer didn't worry; he would find his way to the ship one way or another. As he walked into the shadow of the trees, the Massacre Soldier wondered if by then he would have stopped grinning.