- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- 12NN-4PM, 7PM~
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Horror, Dark Fantasy, Modern
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goliAth
The man in the biker jacket simply regarded Nova like someone's elbow grew a mouth and started talking. Yet soon enough, his expression grew bored. Raising his gun, he laid its steel mouth delicately upon her forehead. Like the cold, imminent kiss of death.
"No!" The apprentice named Cal placed a restraining hand on the man's shoulder. But it seemed almost like the touch had burnt him, for he winced and pulled back almost instantaneously. Meekly, he tried to reason, "The machine could be useful."
In a manner so deliberately slow it chilled the bone, the man turned to look at the young boy. His eyes gleamed and grew wide with warning.
"Of course I won't waste our precious treasure, my boy. What do you take me for, a fool?"
A pause, followed by the click of the safety catch.
Followed by a single shot, resonating in the dark.
Followed by the slick sound of bullet meeting flesh, meeting blood, meeting sinew and bone; and the barely audible whining of a drunken man, barely conscious to register the injury he had just incurred.
For Goliath was never quite a man of talk. He was a man of brute force.
"That's for the other bottle of whiskey, friend," He spat on Graham's supine figure, whose upper thigh had exploded into a river of red. And then he turned to the machine, bringing the gun to her cheek and slamming her with it hard.
@Sanguine Fox
"No!" The apprentice named Cal placed a restraining hand on the man's shoulder. But it seemed almost like the touch had burnt him, for he winced and pulled back almost instantaneously. Meekly, he tried to reason, "The machine could be useful."
In a manner so deliberately slow it chilled the bone, the man turned to look at the young boy. His eyes gleamed and grew wide with warning.
"Of course I won't waste our precious treasure, my boy. What do you take me for, a fool?"
A pause, followed by the click of the safety catch.
Followed by a single shot, resonating in the dark.
Followed by the slick sound of bullet meeting flesh, meeting blood, meeting sinew and bone; and the barely audible whining of a drunken man, barely conscious to register the injury he had just incurred.
For Goliath was never quite a man of talk. He was a man of brute force.
"That's for the other bottle of whiskey, friend," He spat on Graham's supine figure, whose upper thigh had exploded into a river of red. And then he turned to the machine, bringing the gun to her cheek and slamming her with it hard.
@Sanguine Fox