Summer Slaughter
The form slumped on the ground was hardly recognizable. Dark, harsh shapes of black, blue, red, and purple were smeared across the cracked pavement, slippery and shining in the copper light. Slabs of dark color were violently carved into the fleshy shape, as if a sculptor had dug through it in a desperate search to find a form that suited him, but had given up halfway, frustrated. The heat from the dying night clung onto it, and it fertilized in it’s own sweltering stink. Here and there, a finger protruded from the mess of dead meat. Chunks of skin were ruptured with red flesh through slices of cloth that tattered in the hot wind. There weren’t wounds on this body. There were traces of body in this wound.
The obscure form should have been human. But in this disturbing violence, it was only road-kill smeared across the sand swept street. Darc and Ace stood above the one-man holocaust in awe of this brutality.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Darc said.
“Twitch can take care of himself. What color do you think he… she… was?” Ace asked, his nostrils flaring with the stench.
“It’s red now.” Darc stared at the bubbling, seeping puddle of dark blood that stretched far too far down the street. His eyes held and untamed fascination in the reflection of the carcass. “If it ever was human.”
“This is big. This isn’t some offhand little murder. This is beyond passion.” Ace stalked around the corpse, pulling a flask out from his pocket. He took a sip of absinthe—his hands didn’t need to be shaking for Darc to see that this was disturbing him. “Someone’s trying to make a point. This is… big. Fuck, I knew something was up.”
“This is still Red territory…” Darc knelt down besides the bloody wreckage, his eyes wide with an excitement that frightened even him. There was only a bit of malice and insanity in this city that was capable of something this… inhuman.
“You know what this reminds me of.” Darc stated.
Ace nodded, grimly. As the drink began to take effect, his eyes glazed over and bulged with deep green. “The Spectrum killings.”
Darc tilted his head up, observing the stinking light of dawn. His voice low, and tight as the lips across his face, he muttered, “It smells like summer, alright.”
The form slumped on the ground was hardly recognizable. Dark, harsh shapes of black, blue, red, and purple were smeared across the cracked pavement, slippery and shining in the copper light. Slabs of dark color were violently carved into the fleshy shape, as if a sculptor had dug through it in a desperate search to find a form that suited him, but had given up halfway, frustrated. The heat from the dying night clung onto it, and it fertilized in it’s own sweltering stink. Here and there, a finger protruded from the mess of dead meat. Chunks of skin were ruptured with red flesh through slices of cloth that tattered in the hot wind. There weren’t wounds on this body. There were traces of body in this wound.
The obscure form should have been human. But in this disturbing violence, it was only road-kill smeared across the sand swept street. Darc and Ace stood above the one-man holocaust in awe of this brutality.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Darc said.
“Twitch can take care of himself. What color do you think he… she… was?” Ace asked, his nostrils flaring with the stench.
“It’s red now.” Darc stared at the bubbling, seeping puddle of dark blood that stretched far too far down the street. His eyes held and untamed fascination in the reflection of the carcass. “If it ever was human.”
“This is big. This isn’t some offhand little murder. This is beyond passion.” Ace stalked around the corpse, pulling a flask out from his pocket. He took a sip of absinthe—his hands didn’t need to be shaking for Darc to see that this was disturbing him. “Someone’s trying to make a point. This is… big. Fuck, I knew something was up.”
“This is still Red territory…” Darc knelt down besides the bloody wreckage, his eyes wide with an excitement that frightened even him. There was only a bit of malice and insanity in this city that was capable of something this… inhuman.
“You know what this reminds me of.” Darc stated.
Ace nodded, grimly. As the drink began to take effect, his eyes glazed over and bulged with deep green. “The Spectrum killings.”
Darc tilted his head up, observing the stinking light of dawn. His voice low, and tight as the lips across his face, he muttered, “It smells like summer, alright.”