Title: Fils Du Destin (Thread of Destiny)
Author: Nataku
Rating: R
Genre: Angst, horror, supernatural
Pairing: None
Summary: Yet another story to torture my original character Marourin. This time he's in New
Orleans and meets up with unexpected trouble.
Author's Note: Come, take a walk down the streets of New Orleans. See it as the vampire Marourin
would. See the old fashioned French Quarter and the great cities of the dead. Okay, enough of that
rubbish. I always wanted to have a kewl intro like that. But, the drills the same. I just wanted to
torture him. ^_^
Disclaimer: I own Marou, please don't steal.
Marourin's eyes fluttered for a second, but he kept them shut and took in with his other senses what
was going on around him. He heard and smelt people. It was dank...like a large storage area. His
arms were chained above his head and he twitched is hands slightly. There was no room more
maneuvering.
"Wake him up." a cold voice barked harshly.
The swordsman almost frowned at how familiar it sounded. Suddenly, sparks exploded behind his
closed eyes as he was back handed across the face. He gasped and instantly tightened his hands to
retaliate, but they were chained. The blow was hard enough to cut his lip on his fangs and a trail of
blood trickled down his chin. Snapping fierce eyes at his tormentors, he narrowed them viciously.
Then they widened.
"You!?"
"Yes me." the brown haired man said almost smugly.
"Surprised to see I'm still alive you bastard? Think you can get away with what you did to me
Black Jackal??!" he didn't sound quite sane.
Marourin, despite his position sneered.
"Please. I've done worse to better people and I have survived."
The man glowered, then suddenly struck out again. The blow snapped around the assassin's head
and he growled viciously. With the speed of a striking snake, he lunged as far as he could go from
the chains and sank his fangs into the man's arm, pulling in deep droughts of blood. Quite roughly
his head was yanked back and his fangs were pulled out of the man's arm. Then he felt a sharp,
stabbing pain in his arm.
"Heroine does peculiar things to your system. Especially when you pair it with acid."
The shadow assassin hissed as the needle was rudely yanked out and the job was sloppy, ripping
open far more flesh than was necessary. Struggling, he tried to fight the drug but it soon swept over
his system and he was finding it hard to hold his head up. Slowly it drooped and his eyelids lowered.
His breathing was labored and his golden irises were glazed. Pupils dilated like a cat's. Reflexively,
his hands clenched and he arched in the chains. His head was swimming and it clicked.
The damn bastard was drugging him so he couldn't fight! In a burst of rage, he thrashed in his
bindings. Yanking viciously and snarling. His fangs were bared, blood stained as they glowed in the
moonlight. His eyes glowed in the gloom like a demon's, promising a cruel death. However, the
drug overrode the adrenaline pumping through his veins and he had no choice but to calm down. It
was getting harder to think straight as he fought to lift his head boldly.
Again he was struck across the face, but this time he was prepared for it. He met the blow without
flinching and sneered.
"What make's you think you can intimidate me? It's not even a interrogation."
The man wiped his hand on a handkerchief.
"Well Black Jackal, so tell me, how does it feel to be the one on a vulnerable position?"
"I must say it's cutting off the circulation to my arms." he said this disdainfully. His ears twitched as
a heard a click.
"Lets see just how well your circulatory system is working shall we?" he turned to the man next to
him.
"Shoot him in the left shoulder." the henchman fired the shot.
Marourin jerked back as the bullet tore through his shoulder and gritted his teeth as it ripped flesh,
thankfully not shattering bone. Red flashed behind his eyelids as pain surged through his veins. His
arm felt deadened and he could tell that it was no longer functional. Blood gushed from the wound
and the swordsman slumped, panting.
"Well, seems to be working fine." the boss smirked sickly. A sort of sadistic delight spreading on his
features.
"Fuck you." the assassin snarled fiercely. His face was sprayed with blood on the left side and the
red liquid streamed down his cheek in small rivets. The flesh was slowly healing in his shoulder.
Knitting together and repairing the damaged blood vessels. Muscle and sinew were lacing together
and straining to become whole. All in all it was pretty painful. It shouldn't of been.
"Shit..." he hissed. The drugs were amplifying his senses. What should have been minor to him was
becoming more agonizing.
"That's exactly what you are in now my dear friend. A truck load of shit. Destroying a corporation
and life does that to you." the man smiled and stepped back, pulling a whip off a rack. It was tipped
with a sharp steel spur.
Marourin eyed it and steeled himself against the blow to come. His eyes flared with a twisted, golden
flame as he watched the arm rise, then fall. Fire burned across his torso as the leather bit into his
skin, the spur tearing a red gash into his flesh. Yet he did not utter a sound. The next lash crossed
over the first, bringing a fresh wash of pain to his senses. They came in black and red waves for
every lash that sang through the air and tore into his body. His shirt was getting ripped off piece by
piece and laceration-like wounds covered his chest and torso. The blows were getting heavier and
harder as the user was starting to get into a frenzy. The coppery scent of blood thickened the air.
Pain was there, but not to a overwhelming level. Slowly, he started getting a immunity to it.
Suddenly he felt a heavy thud and his body jerked harshly from it. The swordsman heard a crack
and was positive it was a rib...no, more than just one. Breathing was a little more difficult and he
coughed up blood. a lung was punctured. Already he can feel his body racing to repair itself. The
wall of his lung knitting together. Like a machine his corporal vessel strived to keep him alive and
fit. Pain sang through his senses as salt like sweat dripped into the open gashes in his flesh. It was
agony, but he must cope.
"It seems our friend here doesn't want to be obedient. Care to show him what we do to bad dogs?"
He brought forward a man with a gun.
"Shoot his shins."
"But boss..!"
"SHOOT HIM BEFORE I SHOOT YOU!!!" the brown haired man got a dangerous look.
Silently, the helper aimed the gun, cocked the hammer, then pulled the trigger.
Marourin threw his head back with a silent cry of pain. Agony and fire raced throughout his entire
body as he felt the bullet, that cursed lump of steel, tear through his skin and flesh, then shatter his
bone. Unlike a clean sword swipe, the shot ripped a large hole in his shin and made the leg useless.
He slumped in the chains, unable to support his weight with the new wound. Pain clouded his mind
as it hit him, the horrible, horrible sensation of his bone shattering. Blood gushed out from the torn,
damaged flesh and white bone shards could be seen with the gore. He could see the bone and the
muscles, that great, gaping hole in his limb. A hole where bone, flesh, and skin were once.
He was feeling nauseous from the agony as he weakly hung his head, trying to breath through the
red haze of pain.
"Shoot out the other leg." the cold command made him wearily lift his head.
He only had time to close his eyes before his world exploded into pain....
Author's Note: I know, it sucks. I just can't seem to write. *sigh*
Author: Nataku
Rating: R
Genre: Angst, horror, supernatural
Pairing: None
Summary: Yet another story to torture my original character Marourin. This time he's in New
Orleans and meets up with unexpected trouble.
Author's Note: Come, take a walk down the streets of New Orleans. See it as the vampire Marourin
would. See the old fashioned French Quarter and the great cities of the dead. Okay, enough of that
rubbish. I always wanted to have a kewl intro like that. But, the drills the same. I just wanted to
torture him. ^_^
Disclaimer: I own Marou, please don't steal.
Marourin's eyes fluttered for a second, but he kept them shut and took in with his other senses what
was going on around him. He heard and smelt people. It was dank...like a large storage area. His
arms were chained above his head and he twitched is hands slightly. There was no room more
maneuvering.
"Wake him up." a cold voice barked harshly.
The swordsman almost frowned at how familiar it sounded. Suddenly, sparks exploded behind his
closed eyes as he was back handed across the face. He gasped and instantly tightened his hands to
retaliate, but they were chained. The blow was hard enough to cut his lip on his fangs and a trail of
blood trickled down his chin. Snapping fierce eyes at his tormentors, he narrowed them viciously.
Then they widened.
"You!?"
"Yes me." the brown haired man said almost smugly.
"Surprised to see I'm still alive you bastard? Think you can get away with what you did to me
Black Jackal??!" he didn't sound quite sane.
Marourin, despite his position sneered.
"Please. I've done worse to better people and I have survived."
The man glowered, then suddenly struck out again. The blow snapped around the assassin's head
and he growled viciously. With the speed of a striking snake, he lunged as far as he could go from
the chains and sank his fangs into the man's arm, pulling in deep droughts of blood. Quite roughly
his head was yanked back and his fangs were pulled out of the man's arm. Then he felt a sharp,
stabbing pain in his arm.
"Heroine does peculiar things to your system. Especially when you pair it with acid."
The shadow assassin hissed as the needle was rudely yanked out and the job was sloppy, ripping
open far more flesh than was necessary. Struggling, he tried to fight the drug but it soon swept over
his system and he was finding it hard to hold his head up. Slowly it drooped and his eyelids lowered.
His breathing was labored and his golden irises were glazed. Pupils dilated like a cat's. Reflexively,
his hands clenched and he arched in the chains. His head was swimming and it clicked.
The damn bastard was drugging him so he couldn't fight! In a burst of rage, he thrashed in his
bindings. Yanking viciously and snarling. His fangs were bared, blood stained as they glowed in the
moonlight. His eyes glowed in the gloom like a demon's, promising a cruel death. However, the
drug overrode the adrenaline pumping through his veins and he had no choice but to calm down. It
was getting harder to think straight as he fought to lift his head boldly.
Again he was struck across the face, but this time he was prepared for it. He met the blow without
flinching and sneered.
"What make's you think you can intimidate me? It's not even a interrogation."
The man wiped his hand on a handkerchief.
"Well Black Jackal, so tell me, how does it feel to be the one on a vulnerable position?"
"I must say it's cutting off the circulation to my arms." he said this disdainfully. His ears twitched as
a heard a click.
"Lets see just how well your circulatory system is working shall we?" he turned to the man next to
him.
"Shoot him in the left shoulder." the henchman fired the shot.
Marourin jerked back as the bullet tore through his shoulder and gritted his teeth as it ripped flesh,
thankfully not shattering bone. Red flashed behind his eyelids as pain surged through his veins. His
arm felt deadened and he could tell that it was no longer functional. Blood gushed from the wound
and the swordsman slumped, panting.
"Well, seems to be working fine." the boss smirked sickly. A sort of sadistic delight spreading on his
features.
"Fuck you." the assassin snarled fiercely. His face was sprayed with blood on the left side and the
red liquid streamed down his cheek in small rivets. The flesh was slowly healing in his shoulder.
Knitting together and repairing the damaged blood vessels. Muscle and sinew were lacing together
and straining to become whole. All in all it was pretty painful. It shouldn't of been.
"Shit..." he hissed. The drugs were amplifying his senses. What should have been minor to him was
becoming more agonizing.
"That's exactly what you are in now my dear friend. A truck load of shit. Destroying a corporation
and life does that to you." the man smiled and stepped back, pulling a whip off a rack. It was tipped
with a sharp steel spur.
Marourin eyed it and steeled himself against the blow to come. His eyes flared with a twisted, golden
flame as he watched the arm rise, then fall. Fire burned across his torso as the leather bit into his
skin, the spur tearing a red gash into his flesh. Yet he did not utter a sound. The next lash crossed
over the first, bringing a fresh wash of pain to his senses. They came in black and red waves for
every lash that sang through the air and tore into his body. His shirt was getting ripped off piece by
piece and laceration-like wounds covered his chest and torso. The blows were getting heavier and
harder as the user was starting to get into a frenzy. The coppery scent of blood thickened the air.
Pain was there, but not to a overwhelming level. Slowly, he started getting a immunity to it.
Suddenly he felt a heavy thud and his body jerked harshly from it. The swordsman heard a crack
and was positive it was a rib...no, more than just one. Breathing was a little more difficult and he
coughed up blood. a lung was punctured. Already he can feel his body racing to repair itself. The
wall of his lung knitting together. Like a machine his corporal vessel strived to keep him alive and
fit. Pain sang through his senses as salt like sweat dripped into the open gashes in his flesh. It was
agony, but he must cope.
"It seems our friend here doesn't want to be obedient. Care to show him what we do to bad dogs?"
He brought forward a man with a gun.
"Shoot his shins."
"But boss..!"
"SHOOT HIM BEFORE I SHOOT YOU!!!" the brown haired man got a dangerous look.
Silently, the helper aimed the gun, cocked the hammer, then pulled the trigger.
Marourin threw his head back with a silent cry of pain. Agony and fire raced throughout his entire
body as he felt the bullet, that cursed lump of steel, tear through his skin and flesh, then shatter his
bone. Unlike a clean sword swipe, the shot ripped a large hole in his shin and made the leg useless.
He slumped in the chains, unable to support his weight with the new wound. Pain clouded his mind
as it hit him, the horrible, horrible sensation of his bone shattering. Blood gushed out from the torn,
damaged flesh and white bone shards could be seen with the gore. He could see the bone and the
muscles, that great, gaping hole in his limb. A hole where bone, flesh, and skin were once.
He was feeling nauseous from the agony as he weakly hung his head, trying to breath through the
red haze of pain.
"Shoot out the other leg." the cold command made him wearily lift his head.
He only had time to close his eyes before his world exploded into pain....
Author's Note: I know, it sucks. I just can't seem to write. *sigh*