[Evil] Hunting - Playing Games

[z017]

He slammed into the bricked edge of the alleyway, the sharp sting of his cuts lost in the thrum of his heartbeat and the adrenaline-lace fear that raced through his veins. He stumbled down the alleyway, blood spitting and splatting on the ground behind him as he tried to hold his side close.

Why is she doing this? What the hell! I've always been good to her! She's nuts!

Behind him, an unassuming woman declining gracefully into her fourties stepped into the mouth of the alleyway. Her clothes, a sundress a decade out of date and almost too light for the brisk fall wind, were spotless, meticulously so; he hands were flecked drying blood and bits of thicker, pinker material clung to the breadknife clutched in her hand. "Now dear, you know you're not supposed to run like that. The doctor said it's bad for your heart."

He could feel it, too. His heart was pounding, but it wasn't quite the right rythym. That extra sixty pounds from decades of football Sunday's and extra-large value meals were dragging at him, using every ounce of fat like a vise around his lungs and heart. The doctor had said it was slowly killing him. Well, Mary's gonna kill me first if I stop running.He staggered onwards, each clip of her prim heels on the concrete sending him further through the warren of backstreets and alleyways that made up the cleverly named "Maze" section of almost-middle-class housing on the southern side of the Arcology. Mary followed after, her inexorable pace keeping her only ever a few yards from her husband's increasingly erratic flight.

It took less than a half hour for his body to finally give out; his knees buckled beneath him and he rolled over on his uninjured side, eyes rolling upward in fear as the heels made their final clicks on the pavement before his wife's face floated above him. "Now, there's a good man. Honestly, I can't believe you dragged me across all this way! I had everything ready in the kitchen and now all I have is this paltry little breadknife. Not even an apron! Honestly, Henry, you never used to be so rude. Now, be a good dear and hold still."

She reached out with all the tenderness Henry had known from his wife, pulling off his sweat-stained shirt and fashioning a makeshift bandage for his side. Once the blood began to clot, Mary smiled in satisfaction and nodded to Henry, "Yes, much better. I apologize for the sloppy work. I promise, it won't happen again."

The first cut was with a surgeon's precision, cutting down the neck just deep enough to catch the vocal cords but leave the windpipe and arteries intact. She worked slowly after that, carving patterns that pleased her into Herny's skin, always making sure that the bloodloss and pain were never quite enough to send him into a welcomed unconsciousness. The patterns were interesting, but he stopped twitching after the first ten minutes or so, and Shae sighed in annoyance. Mary threw the knife down to the side and peered at her husband with undisguised disdain. "No, it just isn't enough any more. You all are too easy. It's like hunting...sheep or something. Boring. You're all the same and you're all pathetic."

The graceful woman stood up, retrieved the knife in one fluid movement, and plunged it three times into Henry's body: once into the intestines and once into each kidney. "Just not enough any more."

Mary turned away as Henry convulsed on the ground and seemed to shiver as a sleek black cat sprung from her chest. It landed on the ground while the confused woman tried to get her bearings from the dark walls around her. The cat licked it's paws fastidiously, then wound between the woman's legs and bounded over Henry's body. It had to admit, there was some final enjoyment from Mary's screams at least.

*********

A black cat darted out of an alleyway about a quarter mile away from the emerging crime scene and flowed into a hauntingly beautiful young...person dressed in black biking leathers. It was easier for Shae to think of itself as "her", and it amused her given her genesis, so "young woman" is perhaps close enough. She pulled on her helmet, revved the bike, and set out for the nearest Arcology entrance.

I should talk to Papa, or maybe Mother. They might have some better ideas on prey, or at least something interesting to do with boring humans. I do despise being bored.