I’ll Leave You Bloody

Featured Item: Zibska ~ Visitante Makeup (Store)

He slid down the rappelling line and unhooked his harness as soon as his boots touched the ground. The nylon cord snaked back up as soon as he gave it a tug. Mission On.

Rory wasn’t your ordinary assassin, but then, who was ordinary in that sort of business? He stooped low, and kept to the shadows, as he ducked low and kept a low profile, as he observed the building that held his target. He’d been informed that there were as many as 20 or as few as 10 security types roaming around, or with the target. But such things were never fully reliable. You just can’t play it safe in this business. Boldness and taking reasonable risks were part of the game, and taking unreasonable risks were part of it too, when the situation called for it.

He was all-in, and if they had to go down, he was going to put them there. He pulled the blindfold from his back pocket, and slipped it over his eyes, as he always did, before the killing started.He was wearing a black leather jacket, and black jeans, and black soft-soled leather boots, that hardly made a sound on the pavement as he moved. His hair was a gray, and loose about his shoulders, and his skin was pale, as his lips curved into a grim smile.

It was dark outside, with only the street lights and a few dim internal glimmers coming from inside the building. The sky was relatively clear, and a full moon was risen in the east, making its climb through the night sky. It was huge tonight; It was the Hunter’s Moon. The stars were being outshined by the satellite’s radiance, at least until a rafter of clouds slowly drifted across the sky, and occluded the celestial brilliance. Things got distinctly dimmer, and that’s when Rory made his move.

His hands flexed as he observed the two beefy hulks that were security guys, both with knives and pistols. From the looks, they had 12 round clips. Each guy looked like he could bench a volkswagen, but you know that old saying about ‘the bigger they are…’.

He kept low, and started a stooped run from around the parked cars, and was almost right on top of Goon Number One when the man heard a scuff on the sidewalk, and turned. He gasped, and started to cry out, but Rory jammed a knife into his larynx, and all the goon could do was get big wide eyes and grasp, as blood fountained out of the new hole in his throat.

Goon Number Two turned towards the noise, and started backpedaling when he saw the pale figure suddenly illuminated in the moonlight, as the clouds parted. It was like a spotlight on Rory, as he came in, slashing and grinning like a ghoul.

This goon must have been better trained, because he got his pistol out, and fired off 2 rounds before Rory’s leap took him into the man’s chest, where his blade found the guard’s heart with a hard, fast stab. It got buried deep, through layer upon layer of thick muscle tissue, bone, and heart-muscle. He wiggled it around, making brisket out of the large man’s blood-pump, and his 3rd shot was fired into the concrete, caroming off into the darkness.

Rory looked down at the shock on the dying man’s face, and then over at the quivering partner in his final gasps, and nodded. “Don’t think this was personal. I just want your boss. Sorry.“  That’s all he said, as he snatched the keyring off of the man, and removed the knife. He wiped it on the dying man’s jacket, and advanced to the door.

He stalked up the cement stairs, and slipped the right key into the lock. There was a snick, as he turned the key, and the door unlocked. He pushed it open, and was greeted with a hail of bullets. He had expected that, so he was already ducking back when the door swung open.

Ricocheting projectiles pelted around here and there, and missed him for the most part, though he did feel a sting across his thigh. He paid it little attention, as he waited for the hail of ammo to cease. He got his wish a moment later, and that’s when he sprang in, did a roll, and bounced from one side of the corridor to the other, sighting 2 more goons to put down. These were about like the one’s outside, though perhaps a tad bit smaller.

They went down fast and easy, Goon Three and Goon Four both winding up with knife wounds to the neck and throat. Pools of blood pumped from their wounds, as they bled out, creating a small pond of red in the corridor.

He was happy that his jacket had made it safe and sound so far. He really liked it, and rather didn’t want it damaged, so he shrugged out of it, and left it on the water cooler around the corner. Beneath the jacket he was now wearing just his harness – black straps that went around his neck, and looped around his body and through stainless steel rings. He had a white long sleeved button down shirt, that was open down the front, revealing his lean frame.

He glanced up and down the hall, grabbed the dead goon’s guns, along with their reloads, stuffed them into his belt, and then took off at a lope down the corridor. His pale gray hair flowed down his back and swishes side to side as he moved down at a fast jog, his feet making hardly a sound. He he found a stairway leading up. And then noticed the elevator.

He ran over, hit the button for the elevator, and it opened almost immediately. There was Goon Number Five inside with an uzi, that opened fire as soon as the doors revealed Rory.

The assassin leapt to the side, and rolled in under the hail of bullets. His flicked his knife on the tumble, and it found the man’s crotch. There was a tragic scream, and the large man dropped the uzi. It swung uselessly on it’s harness against his side.

Rory’s hand went rigid, as he completed the roll and a leap, and jammed his fingertips into the guy’s throat. His hard black nails penetrated the tissue like a wet paper towel, as he grabbed the trachea and yanked, and the man went down with a gurgling moan. Blood splattered as Rory shifted to avoid the splatter. He found a handkerchief on the downed man’s pocket and wiped his hands, stained red. Rory’s white shirt was no covered in red splatters..

Rory grabbed his knife, and the uzi, and hit the button on the elevator for the top floor.

There was a ding as the elevator opened on the penthouse level, and a hail of bullets showered the interior of the elevator compartment, ricochets bouncing here and there, until the 3 Goons, designated Goon Six, Seven, and Eight, ceased fire. Six edged into the elevator, and looked around. All he saw was the body of his dead compatriot.

That’s when Rory opened fire from the corner by the stairwell, and Goon Seven and Eight went down in a bloody shower of bullets. Rory wasn’t hardly winded at all, from the mad run up the stairs, and now, Goon Six poked his head out and opened fire from the cover of the elevator.

Rory fired off a few rounds, and ‘Six’ decided discretion was the better part of valor, as he hit the ‘close’ button on the elevator, and the doors slowly shut. “Going down, “ Rory commented with a smirk, as he scooped up spare clips from the Goons that were expiring in the hallway. He smirked, and then loped down at a jog down the corridor towards the penthouse suite’s entrance.

He came to a room marked “Maintenance” and when the door seemed locked, he shot the lock off, and slammed the door open. Inside the chamber, there were breaker boxes, circuit panels, junction box controls in the room, and a buzz of high-voltage was easy to discern as he looked for the main power cut off. He found it and yanked down the box lever. Instantly, all the lights in the building went out, and the place was put into utter darkness. Now, unless anyone else had ‘other sight’ like his, magical or some night vision goggles, they would be blind and ripe for the taking.

Inside the penthouse’s main chamber, Mr Chandler was standing at the center of the room, 4 more goons surrounding him. Chandler was dressed in an expensive black business suit, with waist coat, black silk tie, and a pin striped cream colored shirt underneath. He was tall, and well built, in a lean, “I train and lift weights at the gym” kind of way.

They mercenaries assumed combat ready positions when the lights went out. They were in more mercenary military gear, with flack jackets and black military fatigues and harnesses, combat boots, and they had night vision goggles, which the pulled down moments later.

Mr Chandler, hissed out, “This assassin has apparently chewed his way through the lower floors. I want him dead. He’s going to be in here any moment. “

There was a sound, and as the mercenaries swiveled around to the noise, it was a ceiling panel crashing to the floor. A figure flashed out of the ceiling, falling to the ground and rolling like an acrobat.

The merc’s opened fire, and Rory fled to the side, an arch tracing his heels as he dove behind a desk . The gunfire continued in short, controlled bursts, pinning Rory down, ostensibly.

Rory turned and put his hands on the edge of the large metal desk, and gave it a huge shove.

With his augmented strength, the desk went tumbling and smashed into the lead two mercs, and sent them reeling.

Rory lept over the desk, and tumbled gracefully through the air, landing between the other 2 mercs, knifing one in the throat, and kicking the other in the face, sending him reeling. Rory aimed his uzi, opening fire on the guards that were hit by the desk, wounding both of them. He then turned to spring for cover, a hammer blow from the butt of a pistol hit him, as Mr Chandler slammed the butt of his pistol into Rory’s face.

Rory’s mouth was bloodied, and he tottered a moment, as he reeled back from the blow, as if stunned. Mr Chandler waded in, his tall, wiry muscled frame delivering hard punches to the face and gut. Rory leaped backwards about 3 paces, and fell into a support pillar, as Chandler moved in closer.

He aimed the gun at Rory, and fired, but at the moment of firing, Rory’s foot came up and knocked the gun-arm wide, the shot going wild. Rory rolled to his feet, and assumed a martial art’s crouch, and then sprang on the bossman, as the surviving 2 goons came to their boss’ aid. Rory rolled out of the line of fire, as one came in with his gun blazing. Rory kicked hard into the kneecap of the other merc, and broke his leg, sending him screaming to the floor.

Rory sprang to the side as soon as his roll stopped, and the other man fell on him. He ripped the man’s goggles off and jabbed at his eyes with his hard, dark fingernails, gouging into the soft viscera of his eye. More screams from this new man, as he covered his bleeding ocular cavity with his hands. Then Mr Chandler was on Rory, picking him up from the ground and slamming him down on his back , over the desk nearby. Rory’s breath whooshed out of him for a moment and he saw stars, as Chandler tried to punch him in the face. Rory pulled a knife and jammed it up at Chandler’s face, catching him under the chin, as the blade slipped up inside the man’s skull, hitting his brain stem. Rory gripped the man’s hair and held on. Chandler gasped, gurgled, and fell limp.

Rory snarled and glanced around, all of his opponents down or dead. He untangled himself from the dead man’s body, stood up, retrieved his knife. He proceeded to cut out the man’s eyes, brain and heart. When that grizzly work was finished, he put them into ziplock baggies, and sealed them up. “Yellow and Blue Make Green. “ he said with a chuckle, and then grabbed a small black nylon back pack, and slipped the bloody contents inside.

He found a bathroom and washed up, cleaning as much of the blood off as he could, leaving just his bloody white shirt and pants, but that was ok. The only wound he had was a nick from a ricochet, and where Chandler had punched him in the face. He’d come by it honestly. Chandler may have been scum, but he went down fighting.

Rory finished up in the bathroom, grabbed the backpack, and skipped down the stairs, to where he’d left his leather jacket. He slipped it on, and strode out the front doorway, giving a furtive look around for any passers-by. There were none, that he could see. He slipped the blindfold off, as an afterthought, and walked back to the place he had landed on the ground not more than 20 minutes earlier. In the distance, he could hear police sirens wailing as they came closer.

He pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket, and hit the call button. There was one ring, then a click. “Control,” a voice said on the other end. A young woman’s voice.

Rory smiled, and nodded. “Yeah. Ready for extraction. Send the line down.“

“Copy. Opening gate-way,” the voice of control said, in a calm soft, Londoner accent.

A few moments later, a flash could be seen about 20 feet in the air above where Rory was standing. A long nylon cable snaked down from above, the metal clasp clanking on ground at his feet.

He grabbed it, took the clip and attached it to the harness. He gave the cable a yank, and he was whisked up into the air, through that portal that had silently opened a few moments before. It swirled like a whirlpool of dark water, shimmering faintly in the night. Rory ascended through it, back to his home.

Back to where the Right Hand of Fate had their base.

Another successful contract was fulfilled.  And it was still Halloween.

Rory could go to that costume party now, if he could just find something to wear.

~Dehrynn Shepherd 

Body:
Hair- MINA – Neah (Store)

Outfit:
Shirt- ::GB::Body belt shirt (Kinky)
Pants- ::GB:: Boots in Pants (The Epiphany)
Blindfold- {NO EVIL} See~ .::Cubic Cherry::. (Store)

Makeup:
Bloody lips- Zibska ~ Visitante Makeup (Store)

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