#ℒ

[fangsforhire]

Crossbones.

The moniker was rapidly spreading throughout the criminal underground like a disease, causing mass hysteria within certain individuals. Very few knew of its origins but research and meticulous manoeuvres meant Lucien was an exception. Rollins had been effortless, he’d plucked him from the confines of his so called safe-house, receiving a butt of a gun for the pleasure. ( Rumlow? Not so much. ) He’d always been capable of exploiting the vulnerable, of covering his tracks. The Navy taught its recruits every technique known to man. Elusive was an understatement. He’d gone off grid, operating only in the shadows, but that suited Lucien fine. The commander wasn’t the only one capable of being evasive. HYDRA had not been his first rodeo either. They’d merely wormed their way in when he was at his most vulnerable, rendering him into a villainous victim. In a sense they’d woken him up. After tragedy had struck he’d never been quite the same. He’d been consumed by his own affliction. Guilt really was a killer wasn’t it? Yet his eyes were now wide open. HYDRA had been naive. How could they break what had never been whole in the first place? Sure they’d managed to fracture a piece of him away. Managed to provoke the monster within, but they hadn’t understood they were in the process of producing their own undoing. ( Humans were nothing, if not arrogant. Which brought him back to Rumlow. The egotistical bastard. ) Hands balled into fists, staring at the shadowed figure in the confines of the cell. Rollins was convinced he had perished, being burned alive. Bless his soul. So naive. So suffocated in grief that he cared very little about his captivity and yet where was the fun in that? Tongue swiped his teeth, observing every twitch of muscle, bemused by his suffering. It was kind of perfect wasn’t it? Giving them all a taste of their own medicine. Satisfying in that sort of sick way. Not that they didn’t deserve it. They’d been more than content to prod and poke those in their custody. He’d lost count of the times some agent had tried their luck with him, inserting their finger into his cage. How could he have been responsible for following instinct? He’d never been taught anything but cruelty. Being gentle did not come naturally, especially when trapped in a corner. ( He’d paid the price of course for their blunders, and ah yes, he still had nightmares about that. Not even he was immune to torture. ) Bastards. What had given them the right to think they were above him? To kick him into place and force him to the ground? They were simple-minded, mortal. To him they were in a blip in time. A snippet of existence. Did they honestly believe they could even comprehend his power? Rage kindled, distracting him momentarily and he was thankful to see Rollins spasm, bringing him back to Earth.

Footsteps echoed on the floor as he made his way across the basement, clearing his throat, and when that didn’t work? He had the audacity to take off his Louboutin and throw it at him. Jack woke with a start, bleary eyes, disgruntled to say the least, and he stepped through the force-field and retrieved his shoe with a knowing look in his direction. ( Another nightmare. The stench of his sweat was proof of that, it dripped down his forehead, and he looked cold and clammy. ) For a moment Lucien considered loosening the cuffs around his wrists and giving him some respite, though the hurled insult that was shot his way, took away that consideration of mercy, causing him instead to growl at him. Fucking humans. So ungrateful for what they had. Flipping him off, he checked him over, ignoring his spitting.

‘Stay. Good Rollins.’

A roll of his eyes followed, quick to leave him once sure he’d not harmed himself, and for his own benefit he pressed the panel which triggered the sedative gas, deciding it would be better for him to sleep deep while he was away. Naturally the buffoon attempted to react, to fight it, but the never-ending abyss took him, before he could do too much damage and Lucien was free to proceed with his next plan, extracting intel from another who wouldn’t be so lucky. ( In fact by the time he’d finished with them, he was covered in blood, and had to get changed, their screams having been drowned out by the sound proof walls. ) Not that he gave a fuck, having gotten what he wanted. The last piece of the puzzle. Time to move then. Decision made, he focused on transporting himself out of his own sanctuary, landing abruptly back on Earth. Right next to – 

‘Who the fuck are you?’ 

Lovely. Well he certainly didn’t forget his manners did he? Lucien’s gaze bore into the riff-raff who was attempting to challenge him, a casual wave of his hand sending him flying, without a word. Oops. Of course now they came - Rumlow’s so called guards. Such a pity. ( A smirk graced his lips, making quick work of them, leaving them lined up against the wall, pocketing one of their guns as a souvenir and simply because he could. ) Eventually reaching his destination, he booted in the reinforced door, dismantling the trip wire before it could blow him to kingdom come and surveyed his surroundings with a hum of approval, appreciating the architecture and most of all the weapons - his weakness really.

‘Impressive, no human would have been able to enter here, hm? Did HYDRA teach you that old boy?’

Sure. Dismantling the cannon fodder had been a piece of cake, though finding himself face to face with the so-called terrorist himself, his original intentions of just talking to him, all but evaporated. Fuck it. ( With a movement that couldn’t be anticipated, he appeared behind him; refraining from snapping his neck, as the syringe of specialised  tranquilizer plunged into the back of his throat, the whispered ‘night night’ enough to send shivers down the spine. ) His grip was like a vice, squeezing like a cobra would a rodent and he didn’t loosen his hold until he felt him slump. Even then he didn’t relax, wasting no time in taking his prize.

They landed back at the Lake House, and he slipped the needle from his flesh, disposing of it in a sharps bin, before inspecting him. He hadn’t assumed he would be in great shape, and his suspicions were confirmed, a sigh departing into the air, grabbing his med-pack. ( While Rumlow was out for the count, he worked, patching up what injuries he could before hauling him into the glass prison. Jack was still slumped, peaceful enough, and Lucien fastened the same gear to Brock, the cuffs HYDRA’s own. ) Propping up the ex-commander, he restrained him effectively, keeping his leash tight figuratively at least, before stepping out of the cell, and well it was several hours later when he released the valve, enabling him to come back to consciousness slowly. Though a slap to his face was given to aid this, ignoring Rollins’s sleepy babbles nearby. The other having cocooned himself into a ball.

‘Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. Someone’s been missing you.’

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ |

~ @blxxditout

‘Another, darling.’

The barked demand was given from immortal lips, the flavour of alcohol now permanent on his tongue. Not that he minded, liquor soothed the soul and one thing after another had led him there, to the confines of a bar he didn’t often frequent. It was full of the nasties, those who stalked the streets to find their next victim; the serial killers, the misfits. The son of a bitches who didn’t fit in with society, and yet despite his own kill count, he never had lowered himself to such standards. They set his teeth on edge. ( Their methods were questionable even to his tastes and yet, desperate times. ) He’d become louder than he liked, his name overused to the point that hearing it was second nature. He’d never anticipated that he would discover his origins, that he would be known as anything but the infamous L and yet now, Lucien had been forced from the shadows. Gone were the days when he could simply disappear. If it wasn’t Hell breathing down his neck; it was Heaven hounding him. He couldn’t catch a break, not really. 

Let them try to follow him there. The angels at least, wouldn’t be seen dead in a place like this, and that was the point wasn’t it? Not that it meant he could just drink in peace. Already he’d been bothered by some crackhead, standing out like a sore thumb. ( He was a pretty thing really, bright blues, picturesque features and the vampire part of him drew people in. Attracting them like a moth to a flame. ) It was one of the reasons bloodsuckers could prevail, they were incredibly seductive without even meaning to be, and while sometimes he would slurp up the attention - tonight was not the case. He’d grumbled back at them, dismissing them in annoyance and retreated to his own secluded corner. 

It was where he was when the door opened again, bringing with it new patrons and fresh scents. Tongue darted out, giving little care, until. What the fuck was that? The arrival of one of them changed everything; his shields slamming through his mind so violently he almost jolted. Power threatened to radiate through his fingertips, his own little radars going off in unison. ( Great. Was it a demon? Had he misjudged their persistence? ) Temples throbbed, abilities on the verge of going haywire as he tried to survey the crowd and pinpoint the cause, yet he came up empty. No one particularly standing out. Highly doubting it was the kid in the hoody, until locking onto him he felt…. uneasy. Almost sick. Nausea crept it’s way through his stomach and the whiskey glass in his hand came close to shattering.

Who the hell was that? What the fuck was he?

Doing his best to mask his discomfort, he did what he always did, returned to acting, and casually glanced away again; expression becoming indifferent. ( The questions could wait. The answers would come. ) One thing was for certain; he was not letting that unknown being out of his sight. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yet cats also had nine lives. 

Which was lucky, really wasn’t it? 

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ |

~ @bccksmarts

‘Did you just call me a muggle?’

A long chorus of laughter left his lips, mirth building as he stared up at the masked figures who had apparated much too close for comfort from where they were looking for Harry; the pit of dread far from acknowledged in favor of trademark mocking, insulted at the insolence of some people. ( Did they really believe they were special snowflakes because they carried a piece of twig and could wave it and holla balderdash? ) How he pitied the air they breathed, if that’s all they had going for them. True power came from within and these were the people Harry lost sleep over? ‘Nah, mate. Aint a muggle, got a wand see?’ One gesture below had him smirking; side-stepping to avoid a stream of light, and give Hermione enough time to slip past; for they had failed to notice her yet - too distracted by the fact said ‘muggle’ had somersaulted through the undergrowth and stood, holding onto what seemed to their eyes - a wand. ( In actual fact he’d at first started carrying it to tease Harry, since, you know, it did nothing. Merely a well polished piece of wood he’d gathered on his travels. ) Man, they really were idiots. It was easy to convince them his abilities were spells as he directed his energy at the branch clenched in his fist, entertained as they tried to ‘disarm’ him of what he was holding; letting them, only for them to grimace in confusion, when catching it. ‘Adorable.’ Having had enough of going back and forth; he moved as a blur, snapping bones, and twisting limbs, grumbling as he saw some had fled in the direction he’d last sensed the witch, head tilting as he recalled what Harry had murmured with extreme endearment one day while sprawled near the lake. ( 'She's bloody brilliant, you know? ) He’d often gushed about her, a spark in his eyes that was usually absent, and perhaps it was for that reason alone that he’d let him. That rare exquisite spark.

‘Time to see how brilliant you really are, Granger…. Go on - impress me…’ 

[fangsforhire]

Wiping out half the universe?

Well, that was a little OTT even for his standards, and yet exactly that was about to happen. The warning had come with a flap of wings, Amenadiel disgruntled he had been once again reduced to a messenger of God. Lucien had taken it on the chin; understanding that it was a prompt to gather and relocate, and he’d chosen the Lake House naturally. ( The pocket-universe was held in a suspended state, where time had no meaning, which meant added with his wards, it was as sheltered as Heaven itself. Immune from the snap. ) One look from Amenadiel had told him all he needed to know, that there was no intention to stop the inevitable.  That it was a fixed point and had to happen. His family sure was questionable sometimes, but … despite not being a religious fanatic like the majority of his lineage. He respected that there would be a plan that would eventually come to fruition to save the universe from fatal doom. 

Still, he hadn’t agreed not to intervene in any shape or form. Valentin’s insistence that they protect others had been instant, his alter horrified at the prospect of what was coming and Lucien had allowed him to escape to the sanctuary of Heaven. It had been a rush against time to find places outside of the reach of the gigantic purple grape, and his farewell mutter to Valentin was grating on him, to say the least. ( For all his faults, he didn’t break his promises. ) Especially to those he held dear and he had to admit, the idea of having eternity without some of the Avengers was daunting. They may get on his wick but they had their uses, putting out the fires other species caused. 

Not to mention they were others. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to him for him to decide which one was worthy of a rescue. Bucky Barnes had been through Hell and back, coming out the other side barely intact. If anyone deserved a break, it was him. Lucien’s history with him had been brief but enough to leave a lasting impression. ( Back in the cold stores of HYDRA, he’d been forced to stomach his screams as they wiped him; his advanced senses truly fucking him over. Then there had been the time he’d seen him be dragged from the security of his ice chamber as he was going under himself. ) Scattered memories, of a time he was unwilling to completely forget. If his mind hadn’t been fractured before they had meddled with it, it certainly was now. His alters often ruled the roost, picking their times to emerge. Though thankfully his mind was all but silent now as he worked, honing in on his abilities. 

He had been kept informed of the moment it would happen; been ordered not to dawdle or leave the Lake House in any circumstance and he had no intention of doing anything but reaching forth and allowing his mind to connect with the others. Tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, concentration required, and with a deep breath, he took his chance and tugged, getting ready to avoid a potential swing of a metal arm; brows furrowed.

‘Well, well. Mr Barnes. Seems it’s your lucky day. Welcome to my humble abode. Drink?’ 

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ |

~ @sioraiocht

Could the world get any weirder? That was the never-ending question on most people’s lips as of late, wasn’t it? If it wasn’t religious fanatics blowing people up, it was purple grape giants attempting to wipe out half the population. Oh how he missed the days when humanity was completely in the dark, blind enough to not look past their noses. ( Times had changed and the universe was doing all it could to be known as his family watched on from the skies. One had to appreciate their restraint, a lot of them capable of causing destruction in their wake, only held back by the will of God and their divine duties. ) He himself of course didn’t have such a luxury, struggling day by day not to go off the deep end and say to hell with it all, quite literally. If he was honest with himself, the only reason he’d maintained his sanity was because he was too stubborn to let go. It was both a blessing and a curse, witness to the things that went bump in the night, halfway between light and dark, for one could not exist without the other. 

Like most things, it was nature’s way of keeping a balance and how he thanked Yahweh that alcohol existed. After all, all creatures had their vices, their little ways of dealing with the madness. These days he was just waiting for shit to hit the fan, and some other strange phenomenon to occur. He just hoped he’d be intoxicated when it did, head lounging back in his chair, downing the scotch in his palm. ( He was just contemplating grabbing another when he heard it. A low whooshing - a strange sound that pierced his ears, and unsettled his shields. ) What in the name of fuck? The humans around of course were oblivious, and even as he passed out onto the street, it seemed others were willing to disregard the noise as normal. Odd. But then it seemed to have its own defenses, for upon spotting the strange sight of a telephone box; his mind immediately wanted to forget. 

‘Nice try.’

His own abilities came into play, fighting to squint through what became clear some kind of shield, a ward that even he was having difficulty seeing past, the civilians walking straight past, very few giving it a second glance. How clever. He was now forced to notice everything around him; as though it was fighting his interest, grimacing as voices filled his ears, a thousand thoughts hitting him at once. ( Edging closer towards the thing now responsible for his blinding headache, he grit his teeth; deciding to challenge it, to see how fast it could telepathically respond, charging to it’s door, only to smack straight into a barrier and be sent backwards, grace threatening to flare. ) Fucksake, really? Was this thing alive? Refusing to give up, he stepped back, and flipped it off, approaching slowly now, as though greeting a spooked horse and took a breath before stepping through the barrier, edging his fist forth to knock on the door.

‘Hello?’

[fangsforhire]

LUCIFER.

A mere whisper in the wind. An entity said to be inherently evil. To be ensnared by Satan was to be beyond corrupted. For he seduced even the most innocent souls prompting them to sin. Then again what was considered immoral? Didn’t good exist because evil did? The world wasn’t black and white, it was encompassed by grey. ( Nature required a balance; to even the playing field. No one was born sinister, time and trauma stripped you down to flesh and bone and devoured your virtues. ) Every creature had a tipping point, a peripheral moment when the scale could tilt and they could change. Everything had the potential to be become a monster. Lucien knew better than anyone that darkness lingered deep within even those considered holy and pure.

So what stuck up arse had created the bible? Didn’t religion exist as a form of control? So parents could tell their children to stay in line and not commit crime? It was amusing really. ( He’d never imagined he would be forced to analyse such blasphemy. ) Yet there he was, advanced eyes darting across its ancient pages, taking a deep drag on the cigarette between his lips. Inhaling, exhaling. The nicotine helping to curb his cravings; for they were vast and many outside the open car window. Humanity going about their day, taunting the predator underneath his skin.

Fingers itched to rip out the pages, to rewrite the contradictions he was unravelling for the - how many times had it been now? ( How many times had he subjected himself to this purgatory? ) Tongue lashed his upper lip in frustration, smoke billowing as he stubbed out the cigarette and allowed the world to fall away, concentration re-established. Dusk fell and finally, the book was shoved onto the passenger’s seat, hands running down his face; mind burning with repressed memories; shoving against the telepathic mental barricade. HYDRA having done their number on him; amongst others, and yet, he had never forgotten that name.

SAMAEL.

The label of the fallen. How it had plagued him, causing thrashing muscle to tangle in sheets, haunting him while heavy within slumber. It didn’t make sense; not all the pieces fit together smoothly, they were jagged and sharp and left him unfulfilled. Demonic confession having taken some time to digest and by then - back in his own world - it had been too late. ( Not that there was much difference between them. Humanity ruled the roost, the superior species and the rest of the things that went bump in the night, stalked the shadows. ) It irked him, his hatred of them undeniable and yet, he also endured the fact, forging ephemeral connections with a select few who took his fancy, travelling throughout the centuries, intertwined by mortals. It was inevitable really. He had naively assumed upon a time, he could avoid them. That emotions were impotent. Yet since then, he had learned better, accepting they existed and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Not to mention how exhilarating it was to play with them. ( To flirt and watch their cheeks flush. To share stolen glances, their limbs parting. The soft pulse thudding into a vein, increasing as their adrenaline took over. ) They gave themselves away so easily, enthralled by his presence. Drawn in like a moth to a flame. Even now, he could see one across the street, a petite female, her thoughts deafening. ‘No don’t look, no don’t look - he’s young enough to be your-’ He smirked watching as she stumbled across the sidewalk, far from his type and yet he was smug all the same. Allowing her voice to fade to the back of his mind; searching across the city for what he was looking for. ( The crowd gathering outside LUX; smelling of passable cologne. ) Only now did he falter, hesitating within the confines of his car; shoving standard firearm into the glove box and snatch the bible back up. The journey there was effortless, vehicle locked with a flick of his wrist, smart shoes echoing softly.

No. What was causing his stomach to churn was the fact he knew; the possibility of rejection was always a breath away. Yet now he had convinced himself to get it over with; time seemed to have stood still. ( Alas, it took an age to reach his turn. ) Pupils dilating a fraction; calling upon his energy as his irises shimmered, the blue pools much lighter; convincing the bouncer to not even question his presence and forget about it the moment he was out of sight before stepping into the night club, its atmosphere familiar and appeasing him in a way few things could. The stench of alcohol tangible, beckoning him towards the bar like an old friend.

After setting the damned book down and snapping to the desired page; he leaned across the polished surface to order. Yet Samael was written in bold ink on the propped up pages, standing out like a sore thumb towards the room. Followed by a scribbled sentence in Enochian.

‘Is there somewhere private we can talk?’

With the stage set, he waited. Praying his predictions were accurate and the Devil would resist making a scene in public.

After all - he wouldn’t only end up exposing himself now, would he?

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ |

~ @defectivexfragmented

The distant echo of gunshots captured the immortals attention; liquor clenched tight enough that he was alarmed that glass didn’t shatter. Ears pricked, straining to listen to the commotion, which seemed several miles away, the rest of the packed place oblivious. ( What it must be like to not possess advanced senses; to be able to go about your day, head up your arse. ) Of course sometimes, moments like this, when tranquillity was sought; sixth sense was a hindrance as well an asset, and alas - he necked back his drink, trying to ignore the disorder. Yet after several seconds; a louder detonation pierced the air, followed by the hysterical screaming of some poor witness, most likely. Ugh, fuck it. Sliding off the stool, he nodded towards the barman, and then the bouncer in charge of security, effortlessly slipping his way through the patrons entering the nightclub, the scent of blood now evident, amongst the stench of car exhaust, and more lethal fumes. ( Had someone decided to play trigger happy, and then gotten fed up of firing bullets, going for the big bang? ) Explosions, were so… messy, and for him usually a last resort. So why had they opted to release a bomb? Was their assailant more bite and less bark that they’d assumed? Street crime wasn’t uncommon, especially in this neck of the woods. Hell's Kitchen was notorious for it’s criminal underground; and that was what had lured him there in the first place.

It was truly exhausting concealing carnal nature, century after century. Sometimes he just needed to let lose and get away with murder, both figuratively and literally. What better place for him to lurk in the shadows and strike when the time was right? Who would miss a bunch of low life scum of the earth? Certainly no one who would be a match for him. ( Though he had heard the rumours of the vigilantes. Those who liked to sweep in and save the day. ) Was this one of those? Had they attracted too much attention? Tongue swiped his teeth, the amount of blood increasing and then he heard the chilling whisper of someone describing an unknown fate… leaving an individual for dead? Did that make them sleep better at night? At least, finish what you started. Cowards, he mused, removing personalized pistol from the waistband of his trousers. 

His arrival was abrupt, a masked crook almost slamming into him; the balaclava the typical kind and then they were multiple footsteps, and he felt the attempts of a blade?! thrust into his stomach. ( Had no one ever told them not to bring a knife to a gun fight? Amateurs. ) With a flex of his hand; he had broken their radius and ulna and thrown them several feet away, irritated at the rip in his suit jacket, turning his firearm and making quick work of obliterating them, until finally he rolled underneath the warehouse door they’d been fleeing from, facing the scene of an apparent massacre - several victims sprawled out; and in the middle ...What the fuck…. Daredevil - here? Well it made sense. They did say he liked to play the hero.

‘Oi, little red riding hood. Are you conscious?’

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ |

~ @pcthologist

‘Precisely.’

Exclamation was made at the TV, listening to the newsman prattle about recent developments, the bulk of theories each as wacky as the next. Apparently Holmes had either survived by hurling onto a Barbie bouncy castle or was secretly made of elastic or some shit. He’d waved his hand in frustration, scoffing at the audacity of some people’s desperation to seek attention. ( Did anyone believe in this rubbish? ) About to turn off the idiocy, he’d come to pause as the talk turned to Moriarty, and how there was no body. Absolutely zilch and it was this that he was whole-heartedly agreeing with. It was kinda sus alright - not to mention unbelievable. Why wouldn’t Holmes have shouted from the roof tops that he’d won? Why wouldn’t he have enticed Moriarty’s men out of hiding? 

What had been the point of it all? He clearly had no issues in playing dead, only to return and expect everyone to roll out the red carpet. Talk about theatrical. It was adorable really that he believed he’d bested them; that Moriarty’s network was truly dismantled and the last of those loyal had gone over as M had liked to croon, to the side of the Angels. A stupid analogy in his opinion, considering that celestials were warriors, designed for various duties. Angelic may be a term human beings liked to throw around, but the divine were not fluffy bunnies in halos. Purlease, had no one read the Bible? 

Hand rubbed his forehead, turning up the volume and drowning out the rest of the world as he listened intently for any inclination that he wasn’t barking up the wrong tree - glaring as the weather took over, and Moriarty was mentioned no more. ( Ugh, fine. He’d have to do this alone - go with his original plan and make his way through Holmes's tribe. ) Starting with her, Molly Hooper, ‘ex-girlfriend’ of Jim from ‘It.’ Unbearable cat lover, mundane according to his former Boss - achingly ordinary. Fantastic. The only plus? Her occupation. 

Getting in and out would be child splay for he’d learned long ago, no one guarded the dead and Morgue’s were a sanctuary in their own right, the bodies deceased enough that he wouldn’t accidentally encounter those who dealt with resurrection. ( It was a relief, since he wasn’t oblivious as the rest of the population and was very much in the know. ) How they even could be so blind was beyond him; feet making their way from his safehouse, the stench of death already polluting his senses. Of course that was the downside to ambushing her there, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the gurney with a tilted head. Rotting corpse anyone?

‘Shame. They’re not the only one with rigor mortis setting in.’

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ | ~ @samaelnomcre​

{ Ears STRAINED; the echo of footsteps unmistakable; coming closer towards the crouched and shivering bundle; the tiny panther attempting to release a soft growl in warning. Barely managing to muster any sign of being threatening it cowered as a hand grasped it firmly by the scruff, shaking it. } ‘What the fuck are you supposed to be?’ { Was spat from the agent’s alcoholic BREATH; malicious smirk crossing his lips; he held the cub high; amused at the pathetic whine forced out. HYDRA were dicks it seemed even to animals. } ‘Think I’ll skin ya.’

{ Struggling frantically NOW; survival instinct had it crying out; praying that someone else would hear before it would have to reveal itself, and the injuries would worsen. }

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ |

~ @dyscn

‘Seriously whatever you think I’ve done- I can guarantee you I either did when I had no control or - I didn’t even do, okay?’

{ Exasperated PROTESTS left parted lips, outraged at being arrested by a human whom he could so easily slaughter. Seems behaving was doing him zero favours which was a pity really. He’d been adjusting to the quiet life. Laying low so to speak. ( Yet he couldn’t seem to catch a break. Metallic cuffs on his wrists truly insulting. How easy they would be to snap. )  Eyes glared daggers at the Cop who’d hauled him in, promising he’d be seen soon by the Homicide department - fucking great. Could it get any worse? }

‘The fuck?’

{ Apparently so; intense stench of CANINE overwhelming the senses; polluting his previously delicious air. ( It  was muted - but detectable; the hair on the back of his neck starting to prickle. ) Fantastic - they had a mutt working  for them? }

[fangsforhire]

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