Thread: Killer Inside: A Repo! Roleplay (SevenxGoatse)

Shilo slept like the dead. Some days, he worried she wouldnt wake up at all. But he was careful he was precise with her medication, he monitored her eating, made sure she stayed hydrated, kept an eye on her blood pressure at all times - his sweet daughter, the one shining light left in his miserable life. Some days, he was wracked with guilt for what he was doing to her locking her away from the rest of the world, keeping her in solitude with only the books and television to keep her company, and only a birds eye view of the city to tell her what life would be like outside the gates. Poisoning her. But only a little . Really, just enough to keep her inside he would never hurt Shiloh - ever . He just couldnt let her leave, he had to keep her physically weakened because he couldnt risk it - there were things outside that would traumatize and jade his precious little girl all of the murder and prostitution and drugs that riddled every side street in the city, and all of the death and chaos and dirt that covered the main roads. It simply wasnt a positive influence. And then there was always the risk that she might get hurt, or someone might touch her - after all, there were bad people out there and she was so very nave, it didnt make sense to let her out now that she had been so sheltered - it was even more dangerous for her, wasnt it? Besides, if she went out, she could get hit by a car, or bitten by a rabid animal, or catch some horrible airborne virus, or she might drop some acid, or fall in with the wrong crowd and get tattoos. Or someone might take her away - from him. He couldnt have that, not after Marni, he couldnt lose Shilo too, because then he would be left alone with his darkness. At least with Shilo there, he could keep it at bay, because with her around, he was a father, without her, he was just - - a monster. Monster. Murderer. Killer. Kill. Nathan gently stroked his daughters face as she slept, exhausted by her sickness. She always looked like such a little angel when she was asleep, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead before rising from where he had been perched on her bed. A look out the window told him how late it was, and for a moment he pressed his head and palms to the cool glass he could see the entire city from there, but he just wanted it to go away, he wanted to close his eyes to it, and open them again and discover that it was just him and Shilo left. Just them. A cold chill went through him he heard his daughter stir. Dad? I have to go Shi, Nathan replied, turning to her, and the moonlight glinted off the lenses of his glasses, Go back to sleep, baby. You need your rest. You should sleep some time yourself. she said, and her voice sounded strong in the darkness. I have to make a house call - its really very urgent. Remember to take your medication, Shi ill be back by morning. he replied, heading for the door, and even in the darkness, he could feel her eyes on him, and for some reason he felt like he was being studied. Goodnight, Dad. He went in silence to the cellar, like a man walking the gallows, and he paused only for a moment to watch the slowly turning holograph of his long-deceased wife, and he had to hold down the anxiety that was pressing him to apologize profusely to the image of her for doing what he was about to do. For doing what he had done so many times before. He rounded on the file sitting on his desk the way that a predator would eye a distant but potential prey - Nathan Wallace didnt want to go near the cellophane wrapped folder, didnt want to touch it or look at it or know whose name was inside, because there was always the risk he might know them, or that they could be a father of two or a mother of one, or a lonely old man, or someone who had never done anything wrong. Monster. Killer. Murderer. Assassin. Kill. But another part of him, some hideous beast deep inside him was causing his stomach to twist with eagerness, urging him towards it, and before he even acknowledged that he was doing it, he had opened the folder. Lower jaw. Mackenzie Marlow should have paid for his new part. Nathan couldnt remember going through the ritual, but he had put on his butchers jacket and gloves, his body encased in the familiar, slick dark vinyl, and his mask was held between his hands at the level of his face, the eye visor facing him like he was staring at someone else inside of it. Not him. He removed his glasses and took in a breath as though it was his last one and put the mask on, and suddenly Nathan Wallace was gone, and the Repo Man was walking the filthy streets, moving down twisting back alleys, through graveyards and past mausoleums, over rooftops and under tunnels that few even knew about. He deftly avoided eyes, but the few who glimpsed him would pretend they hadnt, or simply wouldnt believe their eyes - some were sure there was no such thing as the Repo Man. He was just a horror story told to children. Others knew he was real. Apparently Mackenzie Marlow was one of them that night, the thirty-something stepped out of his little suburban home and onto the sidewalk - pausing for a moment to light a cigarette, cupping his hand over the flame to keep the wind away - and he glanced up once it was lit, staring into the pool of light beneath the street lamp where a tall, dark figure was suddenly standing. And, unlike so many others, Marlow didnt pause and squint, or cock his head to the side in confusion - no, there was only an instant, only a second where he froze like an animal caught in headlights, and then he was running as hard as he could in the other direction. And who could blame him? Marlow was lean and fast, and he was one of the rare ones to stay ahead of the Repo Man - but his smoking habit had decreased his lung capacity, and after a block he made the fatal error of slowing down, but it didnt matter, either way he would have been caught. They never got far, and Marlow had run into a dead end, heaving for breath. He tried to fight back, taking several swings at his attacker, but each try was deftly avoided, and then a hand took hold of his throat like a vice, and Marlow tried to pull the fingers from his neck, but they had clamped down so hard that even both of his hands couldnt tug the Repo Mans fingers away. He was hurled to the ground, and he hit the cement hard enough that sparks appeared in his vision the Repo Man leaned down and took a hold of his neck once more, actually dragging him by his throat with only one hand, pulling him further down the alleyway, yanking his kicking legs out of the view of anyone who was just idly passing. Ill pay! Marlow croaked out, and then the hand released him again and his head hit the pavement for a second time, stunning him, but the desperation overrode the pain, Ill pay! I will! I just need more time! The Repo Man reached into his jacket, and extracted an enormous, serrated knife that glittered under the dim lights, clutched in the vinyl-clothed hand and shimmering with a terrible promise he straddled Marlows chest, pinning his arms down with his knees. Overcome with fear, Marlow let out a shriek of terror before the Repo Man struck him across the face with the flat of the blade and then stuffed his hand into his victims mouth, gripping his bottom jaw and forcing it open, wrenching hard until it cracked and the jaw became loose. And then he really got to work, sawing the blade into flesh and muscle and tendon while the screams grew in pitch and then cracked and turned into weak, heaving sobs, the blood running in thick rivulets onto the filthy cement.