I just can't seem to stop myself! Someone please tell me if my stories suck or not so I know whether or not I should be stopping!
Once again, I don't own them. I just love them. Don't sue me, I'm broke.
He was on his knees on the floor, shaking. His hands were wet; they glistened darkly in the moonlight. The scent of copper was heavy in the air. Someone was lying before him on their side. Where was he? He didn't know. He opened his red eyes as he looked around. He was at the office. A crimson film covered everything, splattered over furniture, walls, even the ceiling showed speckles. The floor was bathed in red. What had happened? Oh yeah, he remembered now…
15 years he'd worked for them. 15 years of pain, misery, and un-kept promises. They had removed the madness once but it had returned with a vengeance all its own. Nothing had worked to abate it. No meds, no counteragent, no therapies, nothing. They had locked him away in that hellishly white room. Nothing to do, no one to hurt. Only rage as his companion. Uncontrollable, ceaseless rage. They didn't realize he'd long since figured out how to loosen the straightjackets hold on him. Houdini would have been proud.
He had bided his time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. His caretaker had underestimated him once too often. He had forgotten to lock the cage door behind him when he came to feed the savage beast. Free of his shackles, he had lunged and snapping his caretaker's neck before making a dash for the unlocked door. As he ran, he quicksilvered himself to keep from prying eyes who might try to trap him again. He was on his way to the main exit when his attention was diverted. His tormenters were gathered in a meeting. They were discussing him. He decided to listen in before exacting his revenge. They called him a hopeless cause. Even his one time partner had turned on him. Fine. He had no problem with that. After all, they all deserved to die.
He went to the desk and found the letter opener lying on top. Nice… He quicksilvered it and returned to the group. The Fat man never knew what hit him. The others all leaped and yelled in surprise as the weapon was thrust through the fat man's throat. His head dropped to the table never to rise again. His pet was next. All the training Hobbes had given him was put to use that day. The pet also dropped with a broken neck. The other three had taken that time to gather their wits and try to coordinate a counter attack. Pitiful. His one time Keeper ran to the door and closed it, the two seasoned agents had drawn their weapons and were back to back close to her. They scanned the room looking for any signs of where he might be.
Hobbes spoke, calling him partner and saying he needed to get a grip on himself. "Come on, Fawkes!" he said "Show yourself! You have to stop this, Partner!" Not two minutes ago He was saying that the Keeper was right, that Darien was beyond help, beyond control. Now he was saying that He needed to control himself? The anger swelled within him. "Traitor…" He whispered in reply. They pinpointed where the sound came from and took aim with their weapons. Six shots were off before the blink of an eye. All misses. He could feel their fear rising. He could almost smell it. It was intoxicating. He launched his attack.
What happened next was too fast for any memory to capture. When it was over, there was blood all around. It coated the room. Heaviest pools under his victims. The three were down and he had both empty weapons in his hands. Only one still breathed. It was a strangled sound, choking, and wet. It came from his former partner who lay on his side struggling to draw in air. He went and kneel next to his partner. He stopped the flow of quicksilver and looked down at him. Hobbes looked up out of the corner of his eye, too weak to move. "Why?" was all he could whisper. Darien lowered himself further and rested a hand on Hobbes' head. "Shhhh" he replied "Don't speak." He used a long fingered hand to cover Hobbes' mouth and nose and pressed to prevent and further intake of air. Hobbes tried to struggle but it was in vain. He quickly succumbed.
It seems he blacked for a moment, His body over exerted after so long without serious use. He was on his knees and felt his whole body trembling. He cleared his head with a shake and smiled, patted his former partner on the head, and stood. His white pants and bare chest were bathed in the blood of those he had once called friends. He looked around and a primal urge overtook him and he threw back his head and roared.
All at once he woke up screaming. Tears in his eyes, gasping for breath, sweat pouring off his body, sheets tangled around his legs. It was a dream… only a dream… He started to slow his breathing and his heart rate. The dreams were getting worse… He untangled his legs and went to his bathroom. He turned on the light walked to the sink and turned the water on, blinking the tears and sleep from his eyes. Shaking his head he looked in the mirror. There was blood on his face. He stared hard and then hesitantly looked at his hands. They also were covered in blood. He turned and looked at his reflection again and saw only the red eyed monster gazing back with a smile…