dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead i want to see everyone fucking dead.so sick of pretentious fucks and arrogant idiots. so sick of this world contaminated by humans. close-minded, selfish, self-righteous vermin.
"Why won't you fucking die already?!" The young woman shouted while her feverish hands ripped through the throat of her former colleague. Her golden eyes were bloodshot and blazing with rage, her lips curled in a snarl. She either didn't notice or didn't mind the blood splattered on her, nor the small pieces of flesh which tangled in her long, white hair. She seemed entirely focused on what she was doing: sitting on top of a plump woman, pinning her twitching body to the ground while the poor soul struggled to breath through a destroyed windpipe, struggled to keep herself alive. Grunting and screeching, pouring her rage into the victim and smashing to pieces her life, Sasha Winterhound looked madder than ever.
The croaking of crows sounded ominous in the suddenly silent building. It echoed off the decrepit walls and hit the terrified humans huddled close to each other and watching the gruesome scene in front of them. At the back of their minds, they knew that the same fate awaited but no one dared to utter a word, too shocked and terrified. They just stared with unblinking eyes at the criminal. Sasha sat unmoving above the corpse, head and shoulders bowed enough to let the bloodsoaked hair cover her profile. She didn't say anything for a long time; enough for a glimmer of hope to sprout in their weakened minds. Hope which got crushed the moment she looked at them, an unreadable expression settled onto her face. Her hands stayed at her sides as she approached the group, crimson dripping on the floor; a woman whimpered, catching Sasha's eye.
"You know, I'm always paying my debts. No matter how small. And if I recall correctly, the seven of us have something to settle. It happened years ago, I bet you've already forgotten it but I haven't." Her voice was monotone as she spoke, her eyes set on the whimpering creature. And then she smiled and the whole world darkened for them, one by one. Sasha slowly extended an arm, covered the crying face of the woman, smearing it with blood and crushed her head against the cement, pounding it once, twice. The bone splintered with a sickening sound and no one moved for a couple of seconds, terror sizzling their nerves. Then the screaming began. A cacophony of sounds,bouncing off the walls, amplified by the emptiness.
"Please, no! Please, oh, please!"
Snot covered their red, tear-stained faces. 'They look disgusting', Sasha thought.She hated disgusting things and humans always managed to pull that look successfully. Only one of them stood stone-faced, his muscles tensed so tight, you could mistake him with a wax statue. His bushy beard masked the setting of his mouth, but she was sure it was a straight, grim line. His brows also betrayed his nervousness and horror, by how they were furrowed together, framing his guarded eyes, their whites tinged with red. He was holding back tears. With her hand still grasping the crushed head and her face turned to the side, looking past the four cowering figures, she stared intently at him. 'I want entertainment.'
Releasing the sticky corpse, she approached the stone niche protruding from the wall nearest to the exit where she left her coat. She rummaged through the pockets and pulled out a small, rectangular box, not noticing the mess she was making of the white material. Later, she'll regret not being more careful and ruining yet another one of her favourite clothes.
Opening the case, she picked a slim vial containing a thick, brownish substance and attached it to a metal syringe. As poisonmaster, she always had her tools with her. Even stripped naked, she could poison her enemy. In her left calf she had deposited a year ago a slim, undetectable syringe filled with cyanide which she had yet to use.
As she approached the bearded guy kneeling in the corner, she noticed he was eying the vial with alarm. Despite the brave front he had put up until now, his bones were rattling in pure fear. He had a mad woman in front of him who savagely killed two persons moments ago and planned to do the same with the rest. He raised his head and shuddered when he saw the unsettling grin plastered on her face. Crouching before him, Sasha grabbed his right arm to keep it still- his tight binds could do so much when the man would start to squirm, trying to get away from the syringe- and stuck the needle in the crook of his elbow. Not even a grunt, but his face significantly paled; she could guess what thoughts were swarming in his head right now. "Don't worry, you'll live enough to watch your friends die." Her serene tone made his blood boil with anger, almost simmering the fear coursing through his veins. He spoke, his otherwise smooth voice now hoarse from keeping silent. " Have you no heart?" Her answer both chilled and enraged him more.
"Of course I have, silly. How else would I be alive and killing you right now? If you wish to chat, ask intelligent questions. Don't bore me with moronic ones." She wasn't facing him as she talked, her voice just as light as moments ago; she was looking at the three remaining victims, pondering with whom to start. She wanted to observe his reactions, the display of emotions on his face as she took out each maggot squirming before her, all the while his insides were being ravaged by poison. She liked this mix; the victim didn't even notice dying. Their brain would shut down, painlessly and when they least expected it, whoosh! They were no more.
Back to the other three, analyzing her options- dismembering, forced suicide, killing each other, emptying their veins of blood- she lost interest. Their eyes filled with fear and loathing, their cowering stances disgusted her. Her smile fell, her eyes darkened and her white brows knitted together in a frown. Swiftly, she pulled out the Glock attached to her hip and headshot all three, no hesitation between bullets.From her side, she heard a sharp intake of breath and knew that the bearded guy finally broke. She put the gun back in its holster and turned to watch him. His eyes were wide and staring in disbelief at the dead bodies. Sasha noticed that his muscles were no longer pulled taut, but trembling underneath ashen skin. Sighing, she approached the niche and leaned on it, her hands gripping its edge behind her. 'So much for entertaining.'
Aloud, she asked in a monotone voice "You're not gonna say anything?"
The guy kept silent, his eyes still trained on the corpses.
"You do know that you're dying, right?"
"..."
"Fine, be that way! Spend your last minutes in silence, praying to whatever God you're worshiping- he won't help you, by the way- to save you. Gah, such a bore." She began to pick at her nails, scratching off dried blood.
"Funny thing, I don't feel like dying at all, you disgusting bitch."
"Mm? Of course not, you won't even notice the transition. It will happen in an instant, soon enough. Now tell me something." Sasha pushed herself from her leaning position and went to crouch in front of him. "Do you remember me?"
"No. I don't have a tendency of associating with psychotic whores." He stared defiantly back, all fear gone from his bloodshot eyes, now only unbridled rage swimming in them.
"Chatty, aren't we?Here, let me help you." She leaned in and whispered her former name in his ear. That's when he headbutted her, not even bothering to listen. He saw a chance and he took it, consequences be damned. The pale woman stumbled back, a hand cupping her nose, the other supporting her body on the floor. To say that she was surprised would be an understatement. He didn't look on the verge of dying at all, with cheeks flushed and features scrunched up in fury. 'What in the nine blessed levels of Hell? Did I fuck up the poison? Impossible!'
Recovering quickly from the shock, Sasha scrambled to her feet and spoke, her voice brimming with excitement, altough slightly nasal from her broken nose.
"Well, well, aren't you a tough nut to crack? Although, I suppose you don't plan on dying today." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and he noticed how abnormal her blood was, thick and very, very dark, contrasting strongly with the whiteness of her skin.
"It's unbelievable, you know? You're immune to my poison. How is that possible, I've no idea, but no worries! Ah, I can't wait to examine you." She was almost jumping with glee.
"Not today, you bitch. Not today!" He rose to his feet and with a growl, he ran towards her, head first, planning to take her down. She evaded his attack with ease and he fell hard on his side, his tied hands ruining his balance.
"Hmm, hmm, you are right. This will prove to be interesting- at least I hope so-. Live, you maggot! Live and hate me!" She bowed from the waist and stared him in the eye, burning madness lighting up her face, from the cruel snarl of her lips to the arch of her brows. Gripping his jaw, she chuckled. "I shall be waiting, Sheridan." His name rolled disturbingly around her tongue. Before he could spit on her, Sasha straightened, grabbed her cloak and left the building, not sparring the site another glance.
'I made you.' Her lips pulled in a sickening grin.
Sasha left behind slaughtered bodies and a struggling man. By the time help came, Sheridan was barely conscious. The police didn't have trouble believing him. After all, it wasn't the first time they were confronted with the work of "the insane, white as fuck bitch". What they considered a miracle was the fact that there was a survivor. She never left life behind, only death. After gathering intelligence, the team cleaned the site, their guts twisted with disgust. Everyone but Sheridan knew that this was another case that will be left unsolved, just like the many others caused by their phantom psychopath. She was nowhere to be found as if the Earth itself swallowed her. Nobody saw anything, except for what she allowed to be seen. Nobody knew anything, except what she purposely left behind. For all the world was concerned, Sasha Winterhound didn't exist.
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