Hushed chattering came from about the large kitchen of the small orphanage known as Monsieur Vincent's School for Unruly Youngsters as Vincent made his way through. He was the headmaster of the school, and not french at all. He simply decided the name sounded more...enticing. But the children who came here knew different. Most were in their mid-teens at least, some a little younger. They were already accustomed to the harsh ways of the world when they came here, but found it was even worse than they thought once they stayed for a while.
The tall, rather thin, blonde man had his arms crossed behind his back. In one bony hand he clutched a leather belt, ready to whip it out and strike at any moment. "Well, well...who has been the baddest today?" The man drawled, a smirk tugging the corners of his pale mouth upwards. A cold, uncaring expression adorned his sallow face. His dull blue eyes narrowed as he gazed around at the wary children in the room, each of them hoping it was not 'their turn'. Spotting a small, sickly boy of around fourteen huddled in the corner, his smirk widened. 'Perfect,' he thought to himself. He always loved an easy target.
"Who do we have here?" He hissed, advancing towards him. The boy cleared his throat. "Um, Dallin." He replied in a low whisper. "Well, Dallin, I think it's your turn today." He paused. "and you know what that means, hm?" Dallin nodded gravely, his gentle brown eyes narrowing behind his large glasses. "Now, stand up!" Vincent commanded him, gesturing for him to straighen. The boy did not move. "Stand, I said!" Vincent spat angrily, raising the belt and delivering a sharp kick to Dallin's ribs. The boy winced and slowly began to stand. "That's better." Vincent smiled in a mocking way.
Dallin swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly and waiting for the pain to come. As the belt struck his back, he clenched his teeth tightly. A few of the other kids snickered, making the humiliation even greater. Dallin stayed dead still, until finally, Vincent stopped and gave him a light push. "Sit down," he muttered, and Dallin obeyed. Dallin saw the look on his face; it disgusted him. Vincent was truly relishing the pain, loving every moment of this. Dallin recoiled against the wall, somewhat glad that his turn was over...for now. When Vincent saw the other kids laughing softly, his face tinged red in anger. "Since you all think this is funny, I think I will have to choose another of you as well. Double the pain, double the pleasure- for me at least." He laughed maniacally at his own 'joke'. His eyes scanned the room once again. "Hm, who's next?"
"You," a young, feminine voice, almost as sinister as is, hissed. Before he could react, a darkly clothed figure pounced on Vincent from above, delivering a sharp kick to his airways, then pinning him to the ground. "Well, well. Who's been the baddest today?" The figure mocked. "I have!" She mused, a smirk growing quickly upon her face. Vincent felt the cool touch of metal against his neck, then cried out in pain and anger as his throat was slit neatly. With a look of triumph, the figure disappeared rather quickly out the back door before anyone could get a good look at them.
Dallin watched, wide-eyed as their headmaster coughed and sputtered, choking on his own blood. The crimson substance spilled from his neck, gathering in a pool about his body. He gave one last twitch, then fell deathly still. The children were stunned for a moment, then some looked almost excited, while others sobbed from fear. Though none of them would miss Vincent, their much-hated teacher. He could never bother them ever again, for he was....dead.
The tall, rather thin, blonde man had his arms crossed behind his back. In one bony hand he clutched a leather belt, ready to whip it out and strike at any moment. "Well, well...who has been the baddest today?" The man drawled, a smirk tugging the corners of his pale mouth upwards. A cold, uncaring expression adorned his sallow face. His dull blue eyes narrowed as he gazed around at the wary children in the room, each of them hoping it was not 'their turn'. Spotting a small, sickly boy of around fourteen huddled in the corner, his smirk widened. 'Perfect,' he thought to himself. He always loved an easy target.
"Who do we have here?" He hissed, advancing towards him. The boy cleared his throat. "Um, Dallin." He replied in a low whisper. "Well, Dallin, I think it's your turn today." He paused. "and you know what that means, hm?" Dallin nodded gravely, his gentle brown eyes narrowing behind his large glasses. "Now, stand up!" Vincent commanded him, gesturing for him to straighen. The boy did not move. "Stand, I said!" Vincent spat angrily, raising the belt and delivering a sharp kick to Dallin's ribs. The boy winced and slowly began to stand. "That's better." Vincent smiled in a mocking way.
Dallin swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly and waiting for the pain to come. As the belt struck his back, he clenched his teeth tightly. A few of the other kids snickered, making the humiliation even greater. Dallin stayed dead still, until finally, Vincent stopped and gave him a light push. "Sit down," he muttered, and Dallin obeyed. Dallin saw the look on his face; it disgusted him. Vincent was truly relishing the pain, loving every moment of this. Dallin recoiled against the wall, somewhat glad that his turn was over...for now. When Vincent saw the other kids laughing softly, his face tinged red in anger. "Since you all think this is funny, I think I will have to choose another of you as well. Double the pain, double the pleasure- for me at least." He laughed maniacally at his own 'joke'. His eyes scanned the room once again. "Hm, who's next?"
"You," a young, feminine voice, almost as sinister as is, hissed. Before he could react, a darkly clothed figure pounced on Vincent from above, delivering a sharp kick to his airways, then pinning him to the ground. "Well, well. Who's been the baddest today?" The figure mocked. "I have!" She mused, a smirk growing quickly upon her face. Vincent felt the cool touch of metal against his neck, then cried out in pain and anger as his throat was slit neatly. With a look of triumph, the figure disappeared rather quickly out the back door before anyone could get a good look at them.
Dallin watched, wide-eyed as their headmaster coughed and sputtered, choking on his own blood. The crimson substance spilled from his neck, gathering in a pool about his body. He gave one last twitch, then fell deathly still. The children were stunned for a moment, then some looked almost excited, while others sobbed from fear. Though none of them would miss Vincent, their much-hated teacher. He could never bother them ever again, for he was....dead.