Pairing – None.
Note(s) – I actually considered doing Des Tiny, but I figured everyone was doing him so why not go with my favorite character? I haven't read anything on him either… sad. Please enjoy and provide me with some feedback! I would really appreciate it.
Game
just one little slice won't hurt.
He was addicted to the thrill. To the high acidity that came with living the life as a villain, a bad guy. He craved it, yearned for it, wished that it would stay for just one more minute. But it faded, just like everything else, everyone else.
His eyes carved over the slot machine, slicing over the dollar signs and the fruit, over the buttons and handle. The switchblade in his pocket burned so intensely that his mutated hand twitched. Just one little slice wouldn't hurt.
Steve's breath hitched in his throat. The temptation was so much, too much. He'd just kill one guy and be out of there in seconds, just one little flimsy live, just a human.
Just a person.
He'd imagine that it was Darren, with his dowdy brown hair and moss green eyes. He'd imagine his mellifluous voice, so smooth, ripping over a high pitched scream, causing the glass to shutter. Steve was, after all, a sadist. He chased after pain like clouds ran after the sun. He was just more diligent, more determined.
"Sir, if you're not going to play the slots then I do recommend going to one of the tables… we're having a lovely—"
Steve turned around, his hand resting in his pocket, glaring. The man, with his twirled mustache and dark hair, backed away and apologized. He seemed scared, frightened even. Good.
The vampanze's epythymy quelled. Steve stood, growling, and left the casino with eyes trailing behind his back. People watched him, watched his ephemeral heart beat. They were afraid, he could smell it.
The entrance doors slammed.
He walked slowly out into the rain, fading away from the hotel. Cars rushed past him, their windshield wipers going full speed. Nobody seemed to care. Nobody bothered to ask him if he needed a ride.
Not like he cared.
Steve hissed as something hit his back. The impact was powerful, almost too strong to be thrown by a mere human. He spun around, getting ready to throw his knife, but found no one. Only a heart shaped watch.
Scoffing, he went down on his knees and examined it. The hand watch seemed to beat; it seemed to live like him. It seemed alive, filled with dying souls and effervescent essences. His hand cradled the object while his other held onto the switchblade.
Slowly, he made an incision. And just as he expected, blood ran out. Steve smirked.
After all, he was obsessed with the game.
end.
