 |



 |

 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
From: mr_rue |
Date: September 10th, 2008 03:01 am (UTC) |
| (Link) |
|
"I'm the last person you expected to see," he says, letting his lips curl up just slightly. Here, he is William Rue the Representative, not William Rue the Wronged or William Rue the Winner-- but still, it's so easy to let the satisfaction slip into his words. "I hope," he continues, "you've had a pleasant month after the whole kidnapping incident."
Slowly, he takes a step forward, gun raised.
"I hope your death wasn't too unpleasant."
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|

 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
If Reeves is distracted, he might not hear anyone behind him. After all, stealth was Mr. Soze's game, and old patterns are so easy to slip back into.
It's what he's discovered this week, anyway.
The instant after Rue finishes speaking, a gray blur of metal shoots out from behind Reeves, slamming into his side and stomach. The weapon of choice this evening is a crowbar and, after bringing it across Reeves' body, Soze grips both ends of it and uses it to drag the other man back into him, essentially locking him in place. Quickly but methodically, he presses the crowbar deep into Reeves' abdomen and then forces it up, threatening to lift him off the ground with the force of it.
His hands are so still. Welcome to the eternal autopilot. He could do this in his sleep.
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|

 |
|

 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
He can feel the stitches in his stomach start to burn, but he hangs on anyway, grip so tight that his knuckles are turning white. These days, he doesn't let anything stop him. Through bodies and fires, he's marking his territory all over again.
Yesterday, he killed seven people.
Monday, he killed eight.
It feels so good, watching everyone else fall. He's making the world his again. With each new competitor gone, with each new dissenter begging, he's able to let go of the Nexus more and more. After all, there's nothing left for him there anyway.
(And part of him thinks Jeff might still be alive, but then he always remembers the sound of the gunshot, and what use is it anyway?)
When he leans forward, finally, to speak into Reeves' ear, he doesn't even loosen his grip. He lowers his voice and-- in a sort of nostalgia he can't even pinpoint-- whispers words he's heard once before.
"I'm the one who's going to get you."
And then he looks to Rue.
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|

 |
|

 |
|

 |
|

 |
|

 |
|

 |
|

 |
|

 |
|

 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
When he feels the gun, he draws back, pulling the crowbar away from the the other man's stomach. He works quickly, lifting the back of Reeves' shirt and proceeding to tear the gun out of its holster. He tucks it in his own pocket. He then starts to pat Reeves down for other loose goodies, all the while willing away the sickness building in his stomach.
Reeves may be able to get a look at him, now. He's well-dressed, of course, and moves with the same precision as always, but somehow he looks older than he did in the Nexus. It's in the eyes, maybe. His neck is covered in yellow, week-old bruises.
Every so often, he meets Reeves' eyes. His own are cool. Dead. It's hard to tell if he's really savoring this revenge or just going through the motions.
He doesn't know, either.
Edited at 2008-09-14 04:16 am (UTC)
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|  |
 |

|
 |
|
 |