DISCLAIMER NOTICE: I do not own Beyblade or any of it's characters.I do however own Omen, Kyata, Zane and any and all other characters in this fic that have not starred or been mentioned in the anime Beyblade.
Hayy all, here's the third and last story to the Killer Camp Trilogy. I hope you like it. Though it's no where near as long as Bad Omens.
WARNING: Graphic torture and death scenes. HIGH LEVEL VIOLENCE AND GORE. Possible character death and coarse language. Not recommended for persons under 15 years but if you are under that age and have already read Killer Camp and Bad Omens then there's no real point in stopping you from reading this because the damage has already been done :P
I'll shut up now and I hope you enjoy the story!! The following chapters probs won't be as gory as this one, it depends on you. Review and tell me if you like the gore or if I should scrap it. Okay, shutting up now.
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Kai Hiwatari put his hand against Hilary's stomach, holding her in his arms as they sat in the soft grass of the park. She hadn't yet formed a visible 'baby-belly' as of yet but that was expected in the second month of pregnancy, and especially because her skinny from was so tight. It had been two months since she'd found out she was pregnant with Kai's child, but not only that. It had been two months since Omen had been killed and peace had been restored to their lives. The police had launched a search for Omen, as there was no body and they didn't know that he was a cold blooded killer. Officer Malcom had left town a few days after he'd shot Omen, not bothering to say good bye but posting Kai a note saying that he was determined to discover who had been helping Omen. They hadn't had any word from him since but they didn't think of it as unusual. After all, the demon had been killed two months ago, now there was only peace. Zane and Kyata, Omen's best friend and girlfriend, had become withdrawn at school and had taken to skipping a lot, though still hated Kai and his friends with a fiery vengeance. Not a day went by where Zane didn't make some sort of threat on Kai's life.
Kai smiled as he kissed Hilary gently, embracing the afternoon sunlight. Yes, life was good.
--
Anthony Malcom breathed heavily, sweat pearls ever-present on his brow and blood trickling from his lips. He sat in a small and desolate room, completely dark except for the orange light which cast its dull glow right above his head. He sat in a wooden chair, his arms tied behind it and his ankles cruelly strapped to each of the legs. Barbed wire was wrapped tightly around his torso and the chair, coiling around his wrists and ankles also. If he even tried to escape, the wire would cut him to ribbons. His clothes were tattered and blood stained, and hadn't been changed for almost two months. They were the clothes he'd dressed in as he left the hospital, specially picked just so he could look good as he greeted his family to show them that he wasn't dead. He'd made it as far as the bus stop when he'd lost consciousness and awoken to find himself in this hell hole.
A place filled with nothing but pain and the screams of agony which accompanied every session of torture. The only marks that defined one wall from another were the small spattered droplets of blood, some made from him and others made by other people who he'd tortured in order to get information. Each time the victim came up with no information, he'd kill them right in front of Malcom without hesitation and without even the flicker of an eye. To him, it came as easy as breathing, and looked to be as enthralling as sex.
Malcom heard the patters of hisfootsteps coming towards the door, ready for another exciting torture session. He didn't torture Malcom to extract information, he was torturing him as punishment. That first time, Malcom couldn't believe his eyes and even now, the sight of himshocked Malcom down to the very bone. He knew that he'd shot him and he watched as the murderer had died.
No wait, no he didn't. Hewas still alive when they'd left, laying flat on the wet, grassy ground as the rain sprinkled down on his bloodied body. Malcom had assumed hewould be dead, but he wasn't. He was alive and Malcom became all the more aware of that fact as the lock on the door clicked loudly and it swung open, the rusty hinges screaming as though it were trying to communicate a fraction the horrors that the room had seen. Malcom gritted his teeth and looked into his kidnapper's glistening demonic red eyes, which danced in the light with sinister amusement.
"So sorry Officer Malcom," his husky voice was smooth and cold, running over the former police officer like an icy sheet of water, "But this is the day when we say good bye. I'd love to keep torturing you to the point where you cry, but I have plans that need tending to."
"What are you going to do?" Malcom asked, his once smooth and sophisticated voice now harsh from the damage sustained each time screams had torn out of his throat, "Go after my family if I say anything? I won't say a thing, I promise you!"
He laughed softly and pulled a knife out of his belt.
"Oh no Officer Malcom. This is a whole new game. In this game, there are no second chances."
Hishand moved in a flash, the glittering silver blade moving in a shimmering arc right across Malcom's throat. Malcom choked in shock, his carotid artery completely severed and spraying blood across the room like a crimson rainbow.
"O... Omen!" He managed to choke as the murderer grinned at him.
"Don't worry officer Malcom," Omen said softly, cleaning his blade on Malcom's shirt, "Kai and his friends won't suffer for as long as you did. Their suffering will last only one night, then..."
He leaned closer, ignoring the blood that had sprayed on his clothes as it now gushed down Malcom's front. Omen came close to his ear as the officer's eyes started shrouding in the dark veils of death.
"Then... I will turn on the rest of this God forsaken town. I will kill every one, and the beauty of it is, you're the only one who knows I'm alive. You're the only one who can stop me,"
Those words and the sound of Omen's laughter were the last thing Malcom heard as he slipped into death, the image of the teenage murderer's handsome and amused face burned into his eyes before they went permanently black.
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It was Thursday night, almost midnight. Tala Valkov was awake, laying on his side as his bare body pressed against that of Trixie Maher. She was weary after a long day of basketball, then three hours of love, yet she still allowed him to kiss her, nodding in and out of sleep constantly. Tala smiled at her and kissed her neck.
"You should go to sleep," he whispered into her ear, "You've had a big day and you're tired,"
"No," she argued, rubbing her eyes and lifting her knee up onto his hip, "I'm not tired,"
"Yes you are," he replied, pushing her leg away, "You don't have as much stamina as I do and you've been playing sports all day for that competition. You're beat,"
She looked at him fiercely, "I am not tired,"
Tala sighed and rolled on top of her, but didn't make a single move to do anything to her. He would not take advantage of her and he wouldn't be told what to do. Before she could yell at him as to why he wasn't doing it, he started kissing her neck softly, slowing working around her collarbone. Trixie felt her mind sway as the sea of bliss started to creep up on her.
"Stop that," she whispered, "Don't you dare put me to sleep,"
Tala ignored her and continued the gentle motion until her words were nothing more than an incoherent mumble and she finally went to sleep. He smiled and got off her stroking her cheek with his fingers. Her dark skin was soft as he wiped the last few pearls of sweat off her brow. Two months they'd been together and they still argued like an old married couple, only to kiss and make up moments later. His fingers ran over the scar on her shoulder, a constant reminder of how close Omen had come to killing him and how Trixie had thrown herself in the murderers way to save him. He kissed her on the head once more and lay his head on the pillow beside her, closing his eyes and breathing in her smell, which still reminded him of the mango and paw paw shampoo that she used in his bathroom that morning...
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Boris Balkov sat in his black leather chair, reading over the latest assassination reports that had just come in. His brow creased with irritation. Bryan and Spencer, now under his complete control, were purposely doing sloppy jobs and no amount of torture would change that. However, a new murderer had caught his eye, Alex Monroe. He was older than what Omen had been but no where near as precise, efficient and anal with his work. Omen had passion yet this man just did it for money. Boris could still see the flash of hesitation that flickered in Monroe's eyes, right before he pulled the trigger on each of his targets. Boris could tell he'd never be able to lose that last shred of humanity, whereas Omen had never been born with it to begin with. Boris sighed and looked at the remote for the Bug that had once kept Omen on a bent knee. It lay unused on the edge of his desk, holding its place there like a trophy. How he missed the days where he was able to torture the boy for little to no reason, and how he rued that he'd never been the one who snuffed the young murderer's life out. Still, at least this new assassin, Monroe, wasn't killing all of his personal soldiers, and soon, he would be walking into Boris' office after having successfully murdered Kai for an amount of money that would make any rich man roll in his grave. He picked up his radio and held it to his mouth.
"Falowsky, report to my office now."
Boris waited for the soldier to reply but when it didn't come, he became irritated.
"Falowsky! God damn it. O'Brien, go see what's happened to Falowsky."
Once again, his radio was greeted with silence. Boris growled and walked towards his door.
"I'm going to shoot them both myself!"
He opened the door and saw Monroe standing there, staring at him blankly. Boris opened his mouth to curse at the new assassin when Monroe fell forwards limply, crashing to the floor and revealing where the back of his skull had been smashed open. Boris could only stare in shock, not having noticed the dark shadow that had slinked into his office as quiet as a feather on the wind. Boris raised the radio to his mouth again but a cold voice behind him made him freeze.
"Does he belong to you? He was tailing Kai and Hilary so I thought I'd kill him before he ruined my plans. Really Boris, I was a way better assassin than this guy. No grace. No style. No brains," there was dark laughter, "Now, quite literally."
Boris looked at Monroe's injury more carefully and saw with a sickening jolt that the inside of his skull had been hollowed out. Boris turned quickly and saw Omen standing behind him, wearing a smile as terrifying as Satan's himself. That simple little thing - that one smile - caused more terror than any amount of threats ever could. That smile was what told you time was up, you were dead and there was nothing you could do about it. Boris' eyes flashed towards the Bug remote which sat on his desk then back to Omen who continued to smile. Boris suddenly jumped at the remote and turned the pain level to one below the highest. Omen's knee's buckles and he knelt, roaring in pain. Boris smirked and stood in front of Omen.
"You gave me quite a shock Omen. I thought you were dead. Now that you've come back, you can start working for me again. If not, I'll kill you."
Omen's leg suddenly lashed out, kicking the feet out from under Boris. Within seconds, Omen pinned Boris face down to the ground, his eyes glittering murderously and that sinister grin holding back laughter. Boris felt his heart racing in terror as he reached out towards the radio he'd dropped.
"I wouldn't bother calling for help," Omen said with a smirk, "I killed all of your men. You're the only one left alive old friend,"
Boris felt his heart lurch as Omen laughed softly.
"Oh and by the way, what did you think of my acting? That Bug you put in me was destroyed months ago Boris. I am no longer under your control."
Omen pulled Boris' arms down to his sides then brought them behind his back. Boris struggled violently, giving Omen no choice but to press his knee into the back of Boris' neck.
"One move and you're dead mate," Omen said smoothly, "Now co-operate and I may let you live,"
Boris had no other choice. He lay still on his stomach as Omen held his wrists to his back. He pulled a coil of rope off his belt and tied Boris' wrist to the point where the circulation was cruelly cut off. Omen took the end of the rope and looked to the ceiling. He stood up on Boris' desk and looped the rope over the large pipe that went straight through the upper part of the room, close to the ceiling. Omen jumped down, holding the rope as Boris struggled to his knees. Omen laughed softly.
"That's right Boris, on your knees. That's where you belong. You never believed me did you? You never thought that I'd ever have the freedom to kill you. Well it appears that you were sorely mistaken. You never thought I'd find a way to escape your control. What are you going to do now Boris?"
Omen started pulling on the rope. Boris was forced to get onto his knees as his arms were pulled up behind his back. Omen stopped and secured the rope to the desk before taking his favoured dagger. His hands shook with excited anticipation. He slashed through the back of both Boris' legs, right behind the knee cap. Boris yelled in pain and fell forward, his yell becoming louder as his arm joints ached, unable to turn properly and stretching as high as they could halfway up his back. His shoulders popped forward and his head hung. Omen had just eliminated the means by which Boris could swing upside down and prevent the dislocation of his arms. Omen laughed softly and took the rope again, pulling on it harder and harder, lifting Boris up. Boris screamed, unable to use his legs as the tendon's had been cut straight through as if they had been only spaghetti. Omen pulled further and further, trying to keep his excitement under control. Then he heard the distinct sound of both Boris' arms popping from their sockets, snapping the cartilage at the same time. Boris' screams could be heard all throughout the complex, but they fell upon dead ears. Omen smiled and stood in front of Boris, toying with his knife.
"By the way, I lied before when I said I might let you live," he smiled at Boris' horrified face, "You raped my girlfriend Boris, and if that wasn't enough, you tortured me. Me! How could you not expect there to be consequences? How could you still possess some shred of hope that I might let you live? Your fate was sealed the moment we met Boris."
The man's screaming had finally subsided as tears rolled down his eyes, joining the sweat that streaked his face. Boris didn't want to look at the damage done but he could still see in the corner of his eye, his arms bent in a grotesque angle.
"I'll give you anything you want!" Boris sobbed, the pain starting to subside as shock set in, "Please! Money, women, weapons! I can give you it all!"
Omen laughed softly and slowly started pushing his knife into Boris's useless leg, making him scream.
"I don't want any of that," Omen said softly, "There is one thing I do want though."
"ANYTHING! I'LL GIVE IT TO YOU!"
Omen smiled and pulled the knife back out, "I want the name and address of your master. The man who is pulling all the strings."
Boris began trembling, "I... I can't,"
Omen suddenly slammed the knife into the back of Boris' thigh, dragging it down and cutting through the skin as though it were nothing more than wet tissue paper. His muscles and tendons snapped against the blade like taught elastic as the man screamed.
"Wrong answer," Omen replied.
The screams continued for hours, not stopping for any longer than a few seconds, just enough time for Boris to answer each of Omen's questions. When it became obvious Boris wasn't going to say anything, Omen started on his revenge for Kyata. He sighed and circled Boris like a tiger upon a wounded boar.
"You disappoint me Boris. I was hoping that you'd tell me who your boss was. Maybe you will after I've finished taking my own revenge. Let's start with the whole you raping Kyata thing."
Omen walked out of the room, only to return with a bag he'd brought especially for this part of the torture. He opened his bag and laid out his equipment like surgical tools. He put his bloody knife down and took the wire cutters which were rusted and blunt, taking on the same colour as Boris' desk. Omen stood up on Boris's desk and put the cutters to Boris' finger.
"You touched her..."
One by one he severed Boris' fingers until all that was left were two bloody stubs. The screams escalated as the blood came down Boris' arms like scarlet rivers. Omen worked quickly, determined not to let Boris bleed to death before he was done. He took a bottle of salt and poured the grains onto Boris' wounds, rubbing it right into the flesh. He put the salt back onto the table, the screams like his melody of murder. He then took the ten rusty fish hooks and twirled one in his fingers.
"You kissed her,"
He turned Boris around to face him then hooked each hook into Boris' lips.
"You smelled her,"
Omen smirked and punched Boris in the face, having wanted to do that for such a long time. He felt the crunch of Boris' nose breaking beneath his knuckles and chuckled blackly.
"You watched her pain."
Omen stooped, picked up his knife and went for only one of Boris' eyes. Omen jumped down off the desk and looked at the other equipment that he'd personally picked for each torture.
"You kicked her... You held her..."
The list continued until there was only one thing left. Omen smiled and took his knife.
"You raped her..."
He raised his dagger towards Boris' crotch when the man finally submitted.
"I'LL TELL YOU! I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT TO KNOW! HIS NAME IS VOLTAIRE! HE'S KAI'S GRANDFATHER! I DON'T KNOW WHERE HE LIVES! I SWEAR I DON'T! JUST PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!"
Omen laughed softly. He got back up on the table and cut Boris down, letting him crash to the floor in the pool of blood that was beneath him.
"That's a new record for me," Omen said with a smile, "Three minutes into the real torture. That's all it took for me to break you. Thank you for your help Boris. I very much appreciate it."
Omen put all of his blood covered tool back into his back pack and looked down at Boris who was already dizzy from blood loss.
"I guess I won't be seeing you again Boris. Don't worry though, you won't be left alone in your eternal suffering for very long. I'll send this Voltaire to accompany you in hell. Good bye,"
Omen left the room, closing the door behind him with a dark smile. He walked down the hallways which had once been grey. Now, they were stained red with the blood of the slain guards and soldiers whose bodies littered the entire complex. Omen smiled darkly. Now the only people left were Kai and his friends.
As Omen walked through the underground facility, one man listened to him leave as he hid in a room.
Voltaire hid with his back pressed against the door of a slain soldier's room. He heard Omen's slow, rhythmic footsteps coming down the hallway, steadily getting louder. Voltaire felt his heart pounding with terror. There was no way this was the same boy that they'd taken from the forest. No, this wasn't a boy... this was a demon. Voltaire held his breath as Omen walked past. His heart jerked as he heard Omen stop on the other side of the door. Voltaire closed his eyes, praying that the murderer wouldn't find him. He'd heard Boris' execution and it terrified him. No, terrified was an understatement. It was fear that no one would forget. A fear that would break the hardest of men. The same fear that Voltaire felt now, escalating by the second as Omen stood silently in the hallway, his very aura choking and massacring all the hope in the air.
Omen stood on the other side of the door, listening carefully. He could hear some one. He looked to the door and started towards it, his smile still glowing through the blood that was sprayed across his face and dripped from his hair.
"I can hear you," Omen said in a low, dark tone. His husky voice like soft, icy velvet.
Voltaire closed his eyes tight, tears streaming down his face. Omen reached out a hand to touch the door when a soldier on the ground groaned, apparently not dead. Omen looked down at him and grinned, crouching beside him. He turned the man on his back so he could see his face.
"O'Brien! I thought I killed you? My knife must have missed your heart. Don't worry old friend," Voltaire listened to Omen's sadistically low and velvet tone, "I won't make you suffer a moment longer. I won't make you suffer like I did,"
Voltaire cringed as he heard the sound of a blade slicing through flesh and the choked gurgled of a dead man. He couldn't stop his body from shaking as Omen's footsteps started again, growing fainter and fainter whilst a pool of blood travelled under the door and surrounded Voltaire's feet like a dark shadow. The boy - the demon - he had to be stopped. He had to be killed, otherwise... he'd slaughter every single person who wasn't smart enough to run.
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Ray and Mariah slept silently in the soft grass, their almost silent breathing rythmic and adding to the chorus of sounds that accompanied the area. The soothing crackle of the creek as it bubbled around rocks, the singing of cicadas and crickets singing to the moon, the sighing of the wind as it gently caused the leaves and grass to flutter, and the small frogs which chirped quietly.
Max and Shana lay by them. Max had his arms wrapped around Shana as she slept in his embrace - snuggling into his chest and clutching his shirt in her delicate hand. He smiled down at her, watching as she slept and muttered silently in her slumber.
He looked over as Mariah muttered incoherently in her sleep and grinned as Ray's arms instinctively held her closer. It was safe for them to be out all night now. It was safe for them to let down their guard. It had been that way for two months and in those two months, they'd never been happier. Max yawned and held Shana closer to him, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight as his eyelids started to droop. Life was good, and he hoped it would never change.
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Omen walked into Don's apartment, his new home. The lights were off and all three of Zane's cousins were asleep. He walked quietly through the house, pausing only to make a loud, fake cough in front of Ben's door. He smirked at the grumbled from within then entered his room. The moon shone through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow. He looked to his bed and saw the small frame of a girl sleeping there. He walked over and smiled down at Kyata, dressed in a silky purple nightdress with purple leggings that came up to her smooth thighs. He ran his fingers gently over her until she woke up. She looked up and him and sat up as he felt her soft cheek with the back of his hand. She rubbed her cheek against his blood stained hand before taking it and kissing it gently. He smiled down at her, his red eyes glistening.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly, "Go back to sleep. I need to wash this blood off me,"
"So you took revenge on the man who hurt us?" she asked, holding his hand against her cheek.
He grinned darkly, "Yes, I did,"
She kissed his hand again, "I knew you would."
He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her gently on the head. His hand travelled down to her shoulder and he gently pushed her back down.
"Sleep," he whispered, "I'll be back in a moment."
She nodded with a small smile, closing her eyes obediently. Omen smirked and walked out of the room, picking up his towel and heading across the hall into the bathroom. He closed the door, turning on the water and waiting until the steam started to rise from each falling droplet. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side as the light hit upon his chiseled, scarred chest. Despite each of the lighter scars that blemished his perfect skin, his body still held the beauty of a thousand models. Even now as the red blotches of dried blood covered him from head to toe, he would be seen as perfect in any girls eyes. He pulled his pants off and stepped into the shower, feeling the warm water coursing over him, washing away the evidence of that nights crimes. He let the water hit him as he bowed his head slightly, feeling the soothing motion of the water as it trickled down his spine. He closed his eyes and grinned evilly, watching the crimson haze slipping down the drain.
"Kai," he whispered, his voice sounding more like a hiss, "It's time to come out and play,"
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Hope you liked the first chapter. Please review and tell me how sucky it may or may not be -
xx
