Multifandom Oneshot Book

Power - Blood tw

It was late. Nate pulled his jacket tighter about him and quickened his pace, wanting to get home to Morgan before night truly fell. It was dark already, and he still had a ways to go.

He walked past the entrance to an alleyway, the shadows seeming to try to grab him and pull him in. The musician shook his head briskly, trying his best to shake off the memories of the nightmares of the dark void that haunted him every night.

Caught off guard momentarily, he felt a strong hand grab his arm and yank him into the shadowy side street, slamming his back against the wall.

"Money. Now." A coarse voice demanded.

Nate felt a blade at his neck, the cold steel making him shiver, and his heart pounding in his chest. "N-no!" He blurted out. "Get the hell away from me!" He shoved the man away from him with all his strength, causing his attacker to stumble into the opposite wall.

"You fucking bastard!" The mugger spat, "I'll kill you for that!"

Suddenly, Nate's posture shifted. He was no longer defensive or tense, but instead he stood tall. A smirk spread across his lips, "oh?" He said, amused by the antics of the creature before him. "Are you really?" He tilted his head curiously, taking a step towards the other man. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

The mugger's eyes widened in fear and he glanced around desperately for an escape. "Um... um..." he stammered, "never mind!" With that, he bolted to the mouth of the alley, only to have his way blocked by what looked like a wall of solid darkness.

"I don't think so, you cretinous swine." Nate drawled, "you aren't going anywhere." He approached the mugger slowly, the shadows of the alley seeming to stretch to follow him. He stopped just short of the man and smiled a chilling smile. "I certainly hope you don't have a family to go back to. Because I'm afraid they won't be seeing you again."

He gestured in the direction of his prey, sending the shadows snaking towards him, making them wrap around his legs and drag him to the pitch blackness at the end of the alley. The shadows fully ensnared the man and stood him upright, binding him to the wall like manacles.

Nate stooped and picked up the fallen knife, admiring it in the dim glow of the streetlamps. "This is a very nice blade, I think I'll keep it as my trophy." The musician strode purposefully toward his victim as the man struggled futility against his restraints. "Don't bother. You go free when I say so and not a second sooner." He rummaged in the man's pockets and smiled, pulling out a cigarette lighter. "Ah, this should do nicely."

"W-what do you mean?" The helpless thug asked, his voice filled with the delicious fear that the being formerly known as Nate loved.

The dark being brought the knife up and slashed through his victim's clothing, revealing the bare flesh. He liked his lips in anticipation as the knife met flesh and carved a straight line in the skin, blood pouring from the wound. His grin widened as he made shadows fill the wound to stem the flow and lit the lighter's flame. Calmly, he brought the flame to the open wound, searing it shut.

The mugger screamed in agony as his flesh was torn and melted. His eyes streaming with tears.

"Shhh...." Natemare hushed, "I'm not done yet, don't distract me." He carved another line, and then another. He kept repeating until a musical stave was cut and burned into the man's chest. The treble clef came next, and the lighter seemed to be running out of fuel. "Shame. I guess that means we'll have to do this the hard way huh?"

The man didn't respond.

Puzzled, Natemare put a couple of fingers up to the man's neck.

No pulse.

"Well that sucks." He muttered. Shaking his head, he went back to work, humming the theme from the game 'Alice, Madness Returns' as he slowly carved each note into the corpse's skin, scooping out circles of meat where the appropriate notes were needed and absent mindedly popping the flesh into his mouth as he worked.

When he'd finished, he stood back and admired his masterpiece, his clothing and skin stained red.

The corpse of his victim hung limply from the shadowy shackles that held him in place, a pool of blood at his feet that trickled gently into a storm drain.

Natemare chuckled, such a pathetic sight, it would be fun to watch the madness unfold when the body was inevitably discovered. Waving a hand, the creature caused the shadows to erase his fingerprints from the scene, before wrapping around the body. He clenched his fist and the shadows constricted, crushing the corpse to a pulp before disappearing into the darkness.