Post by Wade Moor on Dec 26, 2018 0:46:32 GMT -5
Wait, just relax
Now, behave, the past is all you are
All hurt in time gets better
When the truth comes out, you were born to run
When the lights went out, there was no one
When the fuck am I gonna start this party?
Wade pondered the same question countless times as he made his way through a booming dance floor. Bitches and hoes alike bounced off of him, each as uninteresting as the last, eventually his disinterest came through as they moved on to half dressed beta cucks who were desperate for whatever physical attention they could garner from these “thirsty” bitches...and trust your boi when he said they were thirsty. Wade finally came to the center of the dance floor, thumping EDM blaring seeming in all nooks and crannies of the large factory. One of the undesirable women traipsed upon his donger again, though Gawdnilla decidedly had enough. He reached into his pants and pulled out a stake, jamming it a foot into her ample chest.
Record scratch. Freeze frame.
She bowled around the length of the dance floor as blood spurred from her chest. The rest of the crowd watched in horror as she began to writhe. Her performance was convincing, even for a moment giving Wade pause in his deed...but their ilk had a flair for the dramatic - just ask the effete cuck of an immortal Rabid - and finally she fell over. Her skin charred until nothing but bone shown, which fully burst into bright golden flame, leaving nothing but a small pile of silken ash heaped on the floor.
The EDM stopped as the rest of the patrons turned their hungry eyes upon The Leviathan. Depravity and sexuality gave way to burgh and rot as the patrons shown their true colors - brilliant shades of crimson gleamed in their eyes as they looked upon fresh meat with ravenous hunger. Wade simply smiled, baring his own fangs in kind.
“Guess Crow was right”, Wade joked, “Can’t say this is the WEIRDEST party I’ve been to, definitely top three though.”
The coven loomed around them, each one of the pests afraid to make their move, lest they end up as their now ashen brethren blowing away in the central air conditioning. Wade shrugged and advanced on his own, jamming the stake through the chest of another one of the creatures, mercifully ending its miserable existence. Some of the lesser abominations began to disperse as the quote-unquote “try-hard faggots” closed in around him, though he dispatched them with aplomb - not bad for his first outing as a professional slayer of the mythologically improbable (FUCKING VAMPIRES REALLY?!?!)
As they realized their assault was as hopeless as it was futile, they began to retreat along with their lesser clan, leaving only the true generals, lieutenants of their undead army. Wade decided to pull out the big guns for these ones and unholstered literal BIG GUNS - two .44 revolvers with names befitting the bad bitches they were; Sarah and Alyson - blessed water upon six shots a piece.
Wade fired all twelve, none of them missed.
He sniffed as he holstered his weapons and surveyed the destruction - iffin you could call it “destruction” considering he was just stamping out a plague. Piles of ash rose up around him as the dim party lights danced around him to no particular beat. He walked back towards the exit of the club, intentionally stepping on vampiric remains in disrespect, as if nonverbally communicating to John Rabid that he was, in fact, coming for him. He knew the message would reach his ears.
He was counting on it.
Now, behave, the past is all you are
All hurt in time gets better
When the truth comes out, you were born to run
When the lights went out, there was no one
When the fuck am I gonna start this party?
Wade pondered the same question countless times as he made his way through a booming dance floor. Bitches and hoes alike bounced off of him, each as uninteresting as the last, eventually his disinterest came through as they moved on to half dressed beta cucks who were desperate for whatever physical attention they could garner from these “thirsty” bitches...and trust your boi when he said they were thirsty. Wade finally came to the center of the dance floor, thumping EDM blaring seeming in all nooks and crannies of the large factory. One of the undesirable women traipsed upon his donger again, though Gawdnilla decidedly had enough. He reached into his pants and pulled out a stake, jamming it a foot into her ample chest.
Record scratch. Freeze frame.
She bowled around the length of the dance floor as blood spurred from her chest. The rest of the crowd watched in horror as she began to writhe. Her performance was convincing, even for a moment giving Wade pause in his deed...but their ilk had a flair for the dramatic - just ask the effete cuck of an immortal Rabid - and finally she fell over. Her skin charred until nothing but bone shown, which fully burst into bright golden flame, leaving nothing but a small pile of silken ash heaped on the floor.
The EDM stopped as the rest of the patrons turned their hungry eyes upon The Leviathan. Depravity and sexuality gave way to burgh and rot as the patrons shown their true colors - brilliant shades of crimson gleamed in their eyes as they looked upon fresh meat with ravenous hunger. Wade simply smiled, baring his own fangs in kind.
“Guess Crow was right”, Wade joked, “Can’t say this is the WEIRDEST party I’ve been to, definitely top three though.”
The coven loomed around them, each one of the pests afraid to make their move, lest they end up as their now ashen brethren blowing away in the central air conditioning. Wade shrugged and advanced on his own, jamming the stake through the chest of another one of the creatures, mercifully ending its miserable existence. Some of the lesser abominations began to disperse as the quote-unquote “try-hard faggots” closed in around him, though he dispatched them with aplomb - not bad for his first outing as a professional slayer of the mythologically improbable (FUCKING VAMPIRES REALLY?!?!)
As they realized their assault was as hopeless as it was futile, they began to retreat along with their lesser clan, leaving only the true generals, lieutenants of their undead army. Wade decided to pull out the big guns for these ones and unholstered literal BIG GUNS - two .44 revolvers with names befitting the bad bitches they were; Sarah and Alyson - blessed water upon six shots a piece.
Wade fired all twelve, none of them missed.
He sniffed as he holstered his weapons and surveyed the destruction - iffin you could call it “destruction” considering he was just stamping out a plague. Piles of ash rose up around him as the dim party lights danced around him to no particular beat. He walked back towards the exit of the club, intentionally stepping on vampiric remains in disrespect, as if nonverbally communicating to John Rabid that he was, in fact, coming for him. He knew the message would reach his ears.
He was counting on it.
