Theindianaevan
Sins of the Father #2 Violence
3 YEARS LATER...
CRASH! One swift backhand sends the nearest biker through the window, the glass slicing his chest like a dozen stabs of a knife. I continue to love through the crowded bar as the brawling ensues. I grab the man to my left and slam him down into a table, the force of the impact snapping his neck. In an effort to get a jump on me, the bartender charges from behind wielding a bottle of Chardonnay. Lucky me, as I was suddenly doused from head to toe with alcohol, the liquor seeping into the cuts of a broken bottle. If I were an ordinary man, I'd be in agony. Lucky for me, I'm no man. Today must be my lucky day. Probably not for anyone else though.
I turn around slowly and grab the scruffy looking bartender by the collar of his shirt. Then, reaching down ever so leisurely I grab the remains of the broken bottle. I give the man a courteous smile and a wink, and then ram the razor edges of the bottle into his neck. The blood splurts everywhere getting all over my face and my clothes. I lick up the remains splattered upon my face, and feel imbued with instant power. My cuts are already beginning to heal as I feel this newfound bloodthirsty craving inside my body.
It's not long before in attacked by another drunk, and after going through half the bar already, I wasn't interested in playing games. He raises his arm to strike me, but instead I snap his neck with my hand and sink my teeth into him. I take one good gulp and whip his body at a pair of brawlers next to me. Continuing along my stroll I grab another alcoholic by his hair and slam his face into a table. Then I knocked him into the wall with a swift swing of a chair.
RING RING RING RING
Damn it. These people suck with their timing.
"Now is NOT the time, Little boy blue," I yell as I twist a pinned down biker's arm out of his socket.
"Do you really even take this seriously?" He retorts through my burner phone.
"If I didn't then I wouldn't be here now would I?" Another man runs at me with a knife. I dodge each drunken swing he makes before punching a hole through his chest.
"God you're so difficult," he mutters before asking, "What's the mission status?"
"Oh it's fine! Yeah I'm ok too. Doing just peachy thanks for asking!" I harshly reply while throwing a brawler over the counter and into the wall.
He sighs heavily. And begins, "how are..."
"Oh put a sock in it Mr. Track n' Field. Does it sound like I give a shit?" I cut him off.
"How are we supposed to guarantee results if half the time we don't even know where or what you are doing."
"A little bit of faith wouldn't kill ya," i say as I slam together two brawlers' heads.
"Tsk tsk tsk. You're humor is as stale and old as you are," I hear spoken into my ear.
I knock out another man's knee and punch him in the face as he falls down. "Again. Not a real vampire."
"Do you require backup?"
"Do you doubt my expertise?"
"Are you giving me any reason to?"
"Nope." Another two down and drained.
"So I'll ask again. Do. You. Require. Backup?"
"You know what," I say as I shove a biker down on to his knees. I grab him by the throat as he hangs barley conscious. "I think I've got it covered here." With that I rip his head off from his torso. Then I hang up and toss both to the floor. I look around at all the carnage surrounding me.
"Shame really," I say out loud. "I didn't absolutely hate this jacket." I remove my coat and use it to mope the blood off my face before tossing it with the rest of the mutilated corpses.
"You know what they say."
I pull out a small lighter from my pocket.
"No witnesses."
_____________________________________
You should probably get used to long stories as I am a writer. I am very pleased with this story, which, in a movie, would only encompass three minutes of the beginning. I am also glad that I finally got a good use for the tavern I made a long time ago! Please enjoy and leave your comments below! Also, who do you think is Mr. Track n' Field?
Sins of the Father #2 Violence
3 YEARS LATER...
CRASH! One swift backhand sends the nearest biker through the window, the glass slicing his chest like a dozen stabs of a knife. I continue to love through the crowded bar as the brawling ensues. I grab the man to my left and slam him down into a table, the force of the impact snapping his neck. In an effort to get a jump on me, the bartender charges from behind wielding a bottle of Chardonnay. Lucky me, as I was suddenly doused from head to toe with alcohol, the liquor seeping into the cuts of a broken bottle. If I were an ordinary man, I'd be in agony. Lucky for me, I'm no man. Today must be my lucky day. Probably not for anyone else though.
I turn around slowly and grab the scruffy looking bartender by the collar of his shirt. Then, reaching down ever so leisurely I grab the remains of the broken bottle. I give the man a courteous smile and a wink, and then ram the razor edges of the bottle into his neck. The blood splurts everywhere getting all over my face and my clothes. I lick up the remains splattered upon my face, and feel imbued with instant power. My cuts are already beginning to heal as I feel this newfound bloodthirsty craving inside my body.
It's not long before in attacked by another drunk, and after going through half the bar already, I wasn't interested in playing games. He raises his arm to strike me, but instead I snap his neck with my hand and sink my teeth into him. I take one good gulp and whip his body at a pair of brawlers next to me. Continuing along my stroll I grab another alcoholic by his hair and slam his face into a table. Then I knocked him into the wall with a swift swing of a chair.
RING RING RING RING
Damn it. These people suck with their timing.
"Now is NOT the time, Little boy blue," I yell as I twist a pinned down biker's arm out of his socket.
"Do you really even take this seriously?" He retorts through my burner phone.
"If I didn't then I wouldn't be here now would I?" Another man runs at me with a knife. I dodge each drunken swing he makes before punching a hole through his chest.
"God you're so difficult," he mutters before asking, "What's the mission status?"
"Oh it's fine! Yeah I'm ok too. Doing just peachy thanks for asking!" I harshly reply while throwing a brawler over the counter and into the wall.
He sighs heavily. And begins, "how are..."
"Oh put a sock in it Mr. Track n' Field. Does it sound like I give a shit?" I cut him off.
"How are we supposed to guarantee results if half the time we don't even know where or what you are doing."
"A little bit of faith wouldn't kill ya," i say as I slam together two brawlers' heads.
"Tsk tsk tsk. You're humor is as stale and old as you are," I hear spoken into my ear.
I knock out another man's knee and punch him in the face as he falls down. "Again. Not a real vampire."
"Do you require backup?"
"Do you doubt my expertise?"
"Are you giving me any reason to?"
"Nope." Another two down and drained.
"So I'll ask again. Do. You. Require. Backup?"
"You know what," I say as I shove a biker down on to his knees. I grab him by the throat as he hangs barley conscious. "I think I've got it covered here." With that I rip his head off from his torso. Then I hang up and toss both to the floor. I look around at all the carnage surrounding me.
"Shame really," I say out loud. "I didn't absolutely hate this jacket." I remove my coat and use it to mope the blood off my face before tossing it with the rest of the mutilated corpses.
"You know what they say."
I pull out a small lighter from my pocket.
"No witnesses."
_____________________________________
You should probably get used to long stories as I am a writer. I am very pleased with this story, which, in a movie, would only encompass three minutes of the beginning. I am also glad that I finally got a good use for the tavern I made a long time ago! Please enjoy and leave your comments below! Also, who do you think is Mr. Track n' Field?