melodicwaste
Active member
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2025
- Messages
- 159
- Thread Author
- #1
WORLD CAPITAL OF HOMICIDE... AKA
KILL CITY
KILL CITY
 BANG!Almost instantly his sluggish jogging is stopped, he's taken to the ground where his face meets the brownstone next to him; he's next to a puddle darkened into a foul-green by the putrid industrial miasma next to him. Garbled vocoders send his body into action as he look back to his shin; a crimson stains his lower pant-leg and coats the floor beneath him. He shudders as they desperately grip onto the limestone next to him, trying to life himself up with a rotten, and rusted pipe next to him. Through his rapid breathing morphing into hyperventilating, his collar is yanked backward by a 'mask's' glove-adorned fist. <::"Stay still, junkie. You've already gotten yourself into enough trouble.::> He cowers backward into the destitute alley, shielded by a dumpster as two more unmasked officers approach him, desperately holding his calloused hands above his head. Gripping onto his ankle, and holding back their tears, he starts to talk. "Listen- it's... It's been a slow week, I can get your money, it's Shevchenko, he's holding out on me, please. People aren't buying!" Cowered animal. His pleading morphs into a mixture of lying and cries for mercy. As the Sector-Administrator might say: 'when instinct supplants the senses, the lightest vibration portends danger'. He's still recovering from his high, and the dark-red emanating on the various 'officers' — (more so thugs) — from the industrial work-lights turns them into an impressionistic mob, the smog of the city already tarring his lungs makes him light-headed and irrational. He grabs onto a piece of broken pipe next to him as the pain from his wounded ankle morphs into a jolt of adrenaline. <::"Bullshit. We've already been at your apartment, you've fucking smoked it all. Why'd you trust this asshole again with our distribution?"::> A vague excuse from one of the other 'mask's' prompts one of the lesser-gang members to approach him. He thrusts his arm forward, grabbing onto the brownstone as he takes the other hand latched onto the rudimentary weapon, with astonishing force of precision and a harrowing cry wrenched from the exertion, he slugs them. The blow breaks their stride and sends them limp onto the floor. Kaleidoscopes burst behind their eyelids. Shit. |
