Thread: The Ruin of Mankind

There was no denying a few things Red struck a nerve with his comment about her father, and she was clearly wary of his sexual threat. The look on Cali's face proved she was scared yet hostile to Red's advance because of what he had disclosed to her. Slipping the cigarette back between his lips, the muscular Adonis would begin to stand up from his chair as she spewed a warning to him. Red turned his back to Cali and began to undo the buckles of the duster in which held it upon his gargantuan physique. Cali was welcomed to the metallic rattle of those fasteners his calloused fingers brushed across under the patter of the rain smacking the roof outside. Smoke drifted from the very tip of his cigarette and wafted over his broad shoulder. Piece of trash, hm? Needless to say, Red still held unto the small, black box which had a single button upon it in his left hand. The device was small enough to be able to hold unto while he performed other basic actions such as removing the duster. On that point, the tan colored item would crack free and become loose over his chiseled body. Red's right hand would begin to simply pull it from his frame. The worn fabrics brushed across his shoulders, arms, and hard stomach to expose a simple tank top underneath. The black tank ran it's thin straps over either of his shoulders and hugged the lined protrusions of his shoulder blades. Even the flimsy, sweat flavored fabric of said tank had a hard time following the generous slopes of his pectorals in which casts their own fucking shadows over the man's cobblestone-like six-pack. The ripples and grooves of his stomach were outlined by the rows of perspiration in which had met the material. Now she was given a view of the myriad of multi-colored tattoos that had been drawn into the flesh of both arms. Red's appendages were both sleeved in military lore, dragons, and other items in which painted a portrait of the male's interests. Said ink ran from his knuckles, all the way to the side of either portion of his neck. A pair of dog tags nestled between the valley of his pectorals. To go with his history, if Cali looked over her shoulder toward the nightstand, she'd find three decrepit photo frames. One of them was of Red standing before his DEVGRU-7 buddies his team of Navy SEALs all lined up in front of a helicopter atop of an aircraft carrier. Red was in the middle with his gear and rifle, along with a handsome smile. The second, in the middle of the three, was what looked like Red, a beautiful wife, and son in a facial close-up. All three stood close, with his wife bearing a bright smile and long, black hair. His son was athletic looking and resembled much of a youthful Red. The last happened to be a picture of Red's father, whom also shared similar traits with the wrinkles lining his forehead. Red's father wore what looked like an Army uniform due to the badges and insignia over his shoulders. Red would pull apart the sliding doors to the walk-in closet along the wall, to Cali's immediate left. Again, he hadn't shocked her yet surprisingly. He'd hang up his duster between his Navy uniform and other equipment from the pre-war era. A chem-junkie from a clan living within these walls mentioned he had some sort of drug... Red taunted, as he pulled his cigarette from his lips and looked over his shoulder. ... said it could wipe a girl's memory clean. Like that... He'd snap his fingers to enhance his point. Told me I should use it on you before I set out to the ambush. We all knew you'd put up a fight... Said Red, as blood still trickled down his ruined cheek. He'd point to his chest with cigarette in hand smoke drifting from it, ... I refused. Figured you'd be so much fun to break. And look what I get... He'd motion to the scar running across his face. An almost regretful smirk would spill from him as he shook his head. Red would slip his cig between his lips and yank the tank top over his head with the stretch of his impressive array of muscle. Discarding the tank into a basket on the floor of the closet, he'd then slide the doors closed. I am almost starting to think you're not worth the hassle. I could just shock you until either you die, or the collar shorts out. I might take pleasure in it... A sigh would part from his lips as he held the control in his left still. His cigarette dangled from his lips with every word. Making his way back to the dresser, Red would pick up a bottle of Jack Daniels by it's neck. Pulling two glasses over toward him by their brim using his fingers, the brute poured some of the alcohol into each one. He'd look over toward her as he also soaked a torn t-shirt he pulled from the dresser's drawer he'd never use anyways. Said shirt would be dabbed over his bleeding cuts with an initial growl of sharp pain at first. However, he pressed the item of clothing tighter to his face to let the alcohol find its way to the bacteria in which could infect the injury. Halbred would walk into the room with two trays of food, and place them on the bed next to them with a smile. Compliments from the cook... boar steaks and mashed potatoes. Red would hold the cloth against his face and use his other hand holding the controller to dismiss Halbred, Out... can't you tell I am busy? Halbred left without a word, and Red would stroll toward the trays. Red ran the rag over his arm with another snarl of pain, before picking up a single tray of the two. He'd place it on the floor before her cage and point to it with a narrowed gaze. You'll eat when you look up to me and tell me what I want to hear. It was then that the man pushed on the controller and held it. Food was right there for her to eat, and it had been close to a day since they had anything. He was starving himself, too. But the man had the luxury to eat when he wanted... his thumb sunk hard into the button and refused to let go as he stood there before her cage with a growing grin. I'm not letting off until you tell me who your master is!