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

It was on nights like this that he sometimes had to resist the bizarre urge to howl the moon was hanging full and orange overhead, the night air was filled with the scent of blood, his pulse was racing with adrenaline and in front of him, Benjamin was frozen with indecision, stunned by what was happening, angered and scared all at once, and the Repo Man could see it in his face. For an instant, they watched eachother, eyes connecting predator and prey. Fight or flight, Ben? Either was fine with him - he had all night. Ben took off like a shot there was no real aim or direction to it, he was just running to get away, spurred by adrenaline of his own, desperate to escape - and who could blame him after what he'd just witnessed? Marlow's death had been a painful and unpleasant one, made more poignant by the fact Ben knew the man - and that the Repo Man was presently holding the deceased's lower jaw in his hand, wrapped for delivery. The Repo Man was close on Ben's heels for the majority of the chase, and at some point the mask had been put back in place, and as they ran through twisting back alleys and down sidewalks, the few who were outside would find places to duck into, some of them realizing exactly what they were seeing and knowing that they wanted no part of it. For an instant, he nearly lost track of Ben, but it was the smell and sight of vomit on the pavement that took him in the right direction once more the chase continued up into a towering apartment complex, dark and uninhabited, dust kicking up with every footstep they took until the air was thick with it, like a dirty fog that almost completely obscured his vision. And at some point, the visor became impossible to see through, and he had to tear the mask off his face, staring hard into the darkness, breathing in the filthy air until he could feel it clinging to the sweat on his skin - moments ago, there were prints to follow like footsteps in the snow, a trail he could have used to his advantage, but the swirling dust had swept them away, and he was left standing alone in the dark. He had lost him. Suddenly it hit him how exhausted he was, and he staggered back against a wall, leaning his head against it, letting his eyes drift shut, and in his mind's eye, he saw his patient. Benjamin. He could find him GeneCo had records, and Nathan Wallace had the memory that would give the Repo Man the upper hand, he could find Benjamin, find out his last name, what he did for a living - how many eyelashes he had. He could know everything there was to know about him by the next day, and then the game would end, he could take care of this - - problem. After all, there wasn't really a rulebook about this and he couldn't risk Nathan's identity, could he? He would just have to get rid of Benjamin, erase him. It would be simple, he had done it so many times before, just this time there would be no repossession form to follow, no particular organ to return, no requirement to leave anything in one piece - he could just tear him up and be done with it. It sounded like an interesting idea, one he wouldn't mind trying. In fact, he was sure Ben would still be in the area, probably hiding nearby, waiting for him to leave, hoping to get away from him that night, hoping to be spared - he could wait around for a while, maybe he would come out, thinking he was safe - - but then the darkness drained away, and suddenly all he could think about was Shilo. What was he doing, standing in some filthy building while Shilo was at home alone? His precious little girl, all by herself, and he'd already done his job hadn't he? He had Marlow's jaw, it was all that Rotti had demanded this time around, there was no need for anything else. He was done. Go home. Go home to Shilo. She needs you. Like a man possessed, he single-mindedly dragged himself from the apartment complex and back home, suddenly so weary that he could barely lift his feet on the final few steps in the door. He took himself to the basement, stripped out of his uniform and hung it on the line, spraying it down with hot water from the hose, staring at the slowly drifting puddle of dirt and blood, and he shifted his feet to get away from it, watching it swirl down into the drain on the floor. He considered this for a moment, and then noiselessly turned the hose on himself, standing under the spray like a kicked animal, eyes downcast as all the dirt and sweat washed from him and the water soaked into and through his clothes. When he was done, he stripped and changed, cleaned up any mess he'd left behind, put his knives away and went up the stairs. He stared into Shiloh's room he had left only a few hours ago, and she had gone back to sleep, wrapped in her blankets and safe from everything beyond the house - she wasn't in danger here. A surge of warmth and relief hit him the way it did every time he checked on her she was safe. His shoulders relaxed visibly, and he quietly shut the door behind him, went down the hall, and collapsed face down onto his own bed, and didn't move for hours.