Thread: Internet Killers [	Mr Quixotic & Dovakitten]

RE Internet Killers Very Dark Content Pete was becoming more and more enamoured with Analise. He'd shown the gun, once before, to the prostitute, who'd immediately become such a sobbing, whimpering mess that the offer of a free blowjob if he promised not to shoot had to be repeated three times before he understood what she had said. Pete had agreed, and after she was done, he'd beat her half to death with his fists and finished the job with a knife instead. Analise, however, barely flinched at the sight of it, or the feel of the cold steel pressed against her skin as it made its way to her breasts. The calmness made Pete curious about just how much it would take to break the woman down enough so that she dropped to her knees and begged for her life. Or her death. That Pete would one day discover precisely how much, he had no doubt. Whether that be in the very near future, or in the months to come when he became bored of her, as he eventually would, was dependent on how their excursion panned out that evening. The tick in his eye had ceased as he'd ejected the bullets and tossed the gun on the sofa. If there was one thing the man didn't lack, it was confidence in his own ability. From research, what brought most killers of his type undone was not evidence left at the crime scene, but simple coincidence, careless mistakes, or bad luck. He was more intelligent than the rest of them combined, and wouldn't commit the same errors. Pete also held the opinion that you made your own luck. The comment to Analise about being a dyke, although seemingly offhand, was deliberate. As was the apology, intended to sound sincere and conciliatory, which immediately followed. Pete Norris had many a personality, and the capability to display any one of them virtually whenever he wished. Ms Helm was too cocky and sure of herself for his liking, and the sudden changes were designed to keep her off balance. He thought he'd achieved his goal when he noted the expression of shock cross her features, and assumed it caused by the abruptness of his words. Pete was tempted to drop his gaze and allow it to linger on her tits, just to piss her off, as he offered his hand. However, he forced them to remain on hers. The man was certain he'd receive another opportunity to appreciate her assets, and what was more important now was to be able to gauge Analise's emotions and thoughts when she agreed to the deal. That she would agree was beyond dispute - a refusal would be as good as signing her own death warrant - , so it was her eyes and facial expression which would tell the real story. Apart from a slight hesitation, which Pete considered natural in the circumstances, her acceptance appeared to be sincere. No hint that she was looking for a way to back out. I'm glad, Analise. You get to live a little longer. He released his grip, and followed her to the kitchen. The man leaned against the door jamb, with one ankle crossed over the other, and waited for her to initiate the conversation. He'd expected nerves, or for Analise to query why he'd mentioned the basement, or ask what he had planned that night, so when she instead talked about her sexual orientation, he was surprised. Pete had almost forgotten he'd brought it up. His gaze briefly appraised the surroundings as he processed the information, then returned to Analise. He would have offered to help prepare the coffee - Pete wasn't one of those men who thought it a woman's job to provide dinner and beverages on demand -, but didn't know where anything was, and would just get in the way. The fact she was a lesbian didn't surprise him, though he did feel a slight sense of disappointment upon hearing his suspicions confirmed. As Analise switched on the pot, and moved to grab a water, he stepped into the kitchen. Before the refrigerator door closed, he plucked a bottle for himself from the shelf, twisted off the top, lifted it to his mouth, and finished half the contents in one gulp. He'd just turned to face her again when he heard the taunt about his mother, and for the first time since he'd met Analise, the man felt a flare of real anger. If there was one person in the world that Pete Norris could be said to feel emotion for - not love, he wasn't capable of that -, it was his Mother, and the fact that his bitch had dared speak about her pissed him off in a way that he couldn't recall happening before. Not even in the midst of his sprees. Without thinking, Pete slammed the refrigerator door shut, dropped the water bottle on the floor, and in less than a second he had reached Analise with his fist clenched, and arm drawn back. With his other hand on her shoulder, he shoved her against the kitchen counter, and let the strike go. The back of his hand, and knuckles, aimed directly for the woman's cheekbone. As quickly as the anger had come, it departed, and Pete regained control. He was good at that. His fist stopped an inch from her face, and the man emitted a mirthless laugh. Instead of striking her, he hooked her chin with his fingers, and his eyes bore into hers. Scared Analise? I wouldn't give you the satisfaction. My Mother has class. Unlike you. Maybe I should take you to dinner, and you can explain how we met. I'm sure she'll be impressed by what a lady you are? Pete then leaned forward, placed his lips next to her ear, and lowered his voice to a whisper. And as far you being a lesbian, I couldn't care less. If I ever decide to fuck you, Analise, your pleasure will have nothing to do with it. Consider that next time you're about to disrespect me. Finished with the threat, the man straightened, loosened his grip, and turned his back to check the coffee. Friendly Pete reappeared as he carried on the conversation without pause. As if to demonstrate that he was in control, and what Analise may think was of no consequence, Peter hadn't even bothered to wait to see her reaction to his words, or the fact she'd almost been struck by his fist. He was sure he'd soon hear about it regardless. I'd like to listen to your ex-lover's side of the story, because I envisage you're not the easiest person to be in a relationship with, Analise. Or is just me who brings out your inner bitch? He lifted a hand to wave off any response, and his tone turned to one of self deprecation. There's no special women in my life. I've been in a few relationships, but none have lasted. Some say I'm too controlling. Imagine that? Others just haven't been kinky enough for my tastes, or couldn't match my sex-drive. I've never found one that interested me enough to want to keep around. Not alive anyway. Pete returned the coffee pot to the plate - it was almost ready - and swiveled to finally check on Analise That's enough sharing. We need to discuss the details of the murder. I don't want you to be a liability, but there's no reason to fret. It's much like losing your virginity. Somewhat nerve-wracking, but once it's over and done with, you wonder what all the fuss was about to begin with. There'll be plenty of other opportunities to get to know each other better once I move in. As his eyes lifted to find her, a small part of him concerned that she may have thought to pick up a kitchen knife whilst his back was turned, Pete wondered how long it would take for Analise to recognise the import of that last statement. Where do you keep the sugar?