Thread: ..::Aɴɢᴇʟs ᴏғ Dᴇᴀᴛʜ::.. [Rʏᴀx & Iʀᴏɴɪᴄ]

Isac was triumphantly awaiting his prey to escape the shitty hiding place she'd chosen for herself. Usually the victims of his whims didn't put up much of a fight if he was to choose for them, and he usually did. Neither of them had been as feisty as this little minx turned out to be, catching him off guard while he was gloating and stabbing him between two of his ribs. He yelped in surprise, clutched at where she had stabbed him, inhaling a sharp breath and his face contorting in a surprised pain. You little whooore! Isac screamed after the bolting girl. He felt the slight shudder of his weapon as the woman sliced herself on its blade. It took Isac a little while to recuperate from the sneaky full frontal shanking. Having instinctively clutched hard at his would, he ultimately, with care, removed his hand from the fresh wound, his bandages coloring a deep red around the point of impact. He checked his breathing, testing his new limit and groaned painfully as the wound sent sharp signals to stop what he was doing. He was still able to breathe, fortunately for him she hadn't managed to puncture his lung. You shitty little shit, I'm going to get you back for that! , he voiced in anger, wincing and groaning in fresh pain as a result before he turned his attention to his scythe, specifically because he'd felt the shuddering of her body connecting with it. He'd hoped that it had drawn blood, and it seems like he was in luck today. The sharp tip of the scythe blade had a faint slash of blood. He figured it had to be a fairly shallow wound, but maybe there'd be traces he could follow. And so began the second hunt, with less excitement and more determination as a trade off. Isac had less luck when attempting to follow the tracks of his escapee. While she had nicked her skin, it hadn't been deep, only a mere minor drop of blood found here and there. With considerable effort in trying to trace her, Isac finally had to give up. He had lost her to the maze of doors and stairs. Isac was bubbling over with rage at this point, went to the nearest room with lots of breakables and positively trashed the place, cutting what could be cut, breaking what could be broken. He grunted, screamed, swore his throat sore until basically everything in the room was to shreds. As his tantrum eventually subsided as things to destroy began to run out, he went into a nearby stairwell and sat down heavily on the lowermost step, dejectedly and defeated dropping his scythe to the ground with a series of loud metallic clangs. I fucking hate this place... , he muttered lowly under the guise of a heavy sigh. He rested his elbows on his knees, and in turn his face in his hands. Isac stayed like that for a good twenty minutes before he lifted his face from his hands, wincing from the slight pain jolting through him at his settled wound. He took another look at the damage done, this time he'd be taking his time doing so, peeling off his bandages, cleaning some of the blood off, making sure there weren't any unwanted gunk in there before he'd rebandage himself across the wound with some fresh gauze he'd picked up in the surgical room where he'd woken up. The wrappings both above and below were still riddled with deep red moistness. Having regained his composure, he grabbed his scythe with his left hand and stood himself up. He looked to both sides, wondering where to go, before turning around and looking up the stairs. Isac shrugged his shoulders a little and grunted indifferently before he began climbing them. He had nothing to follow now, nothing to hunt or kill, no clear way out. He was substantially dejected from the deeply unsatisfying experience and had thus began wandering fairly aimlessly, gently guided by his innate instinct, until he'd be confronted with something to grab his attention for real. Passing through empty rooms, corridors, stairwells, to dusty old libraries and sterile offices, there wasn't a speck of life anywhere to be seen. Some rooms were already lit, some were dark as the pits of hell. It was always eerily quiet. An hour into the aimless shuffling about, he eventually came across another lit room and sat down on a table in the middle of an otherwise furniture and featureless empty room. His dulled mind didn't notice anything at first, but as the seconds, minutes, passed by, things slowly became clearer, the thick fog fading from his mind and again revealing the once clear landscape of his surroundings. Papers scattered everywhere. Isac slowly swiveled his head, left, right, left again. Papers everywhere. The entire table, the floor was even blanketed in scattered pristine papers. A flame of curiosity slowly peeking forth inside of him guided his hand to pick one of the papers up and let his eyes take a gander at its contents. May Warren. Deceased at age 36. Skewered onto a rusty pipe. , he read out loud as he processed the words. After he was done, he laid his hand to rest on his lap and looked up and audibly scoffed at what he'd just read. Dropping the paper absentmindedly to the floor, he picked up another one on the table and read it. It contained the same information of name, age and death, but about another person. He picked up another one, scoffed again, the contents were the same. Hints of a wicked grin showed at the corners of his mouth. Sure is one conceited asshole for keeping records of all this shit , he said to himself in a far off corner of his mind manner with a slight tinge of enjoyment. While the vast majority of papers seemed pristine, covered in some dust but otherwise contained no signs of use, a few of the papers seemed to have been disturbed. This caught Isacs interest, potential signs of life, maybe even signs of the woman he'd failed to kill earlier. Instead of picking up random papers anymore, he got off the table carefully and began to look for other signs of papers having been disturbed, ones not disturbed solely by himself and his butt that is. Isac suddenly froze when he noticed a very specific paper, one labeled with his name, one that had been disturbed as well. He hesitated for a few seconds, trying to sort out the flailing emotions in his mind before he just grabbed the paper and began reading it without a care for his own well being, his curiosity overriding his sense of self preservation. Eyeing the paper down slowly and methodically, Isac's mood grew more and more sullen, the corners of his mouth no longer showing smiles but a locked down sadness as disturbing memories came flooding back and a sense of being covered in filth washed over him. Having read every single word on the piece of paper, he no longer wished to partake in this game and was set on destroying the filthy things that jogged his memories to such uncomfortable places. He kicked the table over, scattering the papers around the room before swiveling around and pacing backwards with determined steps. He was going for a can of lighter fuel he'd noticed in aimless passing found in a shed along the way to his current room. Returning ever more determined with the can in his hand, he popped it open with the tip of his scythe and scattered the sharp and dulling-of-his-senses smelling substance across the floor of the room. Tossing the empty can aimlessly into the room, he looked around for anything to ignite the gases. Failing to find anything he didn't want to backtrack again, even if it was only a few minutes. One trip had been enough. Entering the next room in the endless maze, it was a fancy room with a glass chandelier, marble floor, a now rotten and decaying feast upon a marble and varnished oak table. Candelabras scattered across the walls of the room. The smell was sharp and terrible, Isac wincing audibly and covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his left arm. Fucking noble shits he caughed forth vehemently as he looked back to the other room, then down to the floor and back. Taking a step back he raised his scythe high with his right arm, took aim, and slammed it down on the marble floor in an arc towards the gassed up room so that a few sparks were created by the friction. Most of the sparks flew short or hit the door frame, but one brave little fiery hero landed right where it was supposed to, igniting the gasses and the room quickly filled with fire with a loud Thwoomp ing sound. Isac looked on proudly at the crackling and wildly spreading inferno before he kicked the door closed between the lit room and the rotten feast. Isac was proudly showered with glee, but only for a moment, before he again was without aim and purpose in the depressing maze. He quickly exited the rotten room and closed the door behind him to another room, again brightly lit, but this time with 80s style fluorescent neon lights covering the walls and ceiling. Taking a moment to lower his sleeve from his mouth again and looking about the room. I really fucking hate this place... he told himself out loud again as he made his way to exit this, to him abhorrent, room and venture further in the mysterious labyrinth he was trapped in.