Fan Fiction ❯ Midnight Tower ❯ The final Test ( Chapter 1 )

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places, incidents, or anything else, is obviously coincidental. The Authoress did not intend for this to be a historically accurate story and it is not based on any legends of any type. If you think this resembles any true story in any way you are wrong and probably mentally troubled. Seek help immediately and start reading some history books you stupid freak! Of course, because the authoress loves all stupid freaks you are welcome to leave your comments.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced without written permission from the authoress in any way, shape, form, or anything I forgot. You may however quote the authoress briefly but only in articles and/or reviews.

To my dear friends who encourage my weirdness and bring more into my otherwise normal life.

Midnight Tower and all characters (c) Rin Flowers

 

 

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An agonized scream filled the air mingling with feminine laughter to envelope the silence of the night. Blood sprayed forth from a blackened gash across a fleshy neck, scarlet droplets splattered against a shadowed figure. There, standing in the darkness, was the vision of every man's fantasy. Lush, rounded hips, a dress of black silk fitting snuggly in every curve. Long legs that streached out from under the hemline and ended a mile down as her toes tucked into stiletto heals. A long tangle of black curls pulled stubbornly at a clip placed there earlier that evening. The small smoking pistol clasped in her right hand was tucked back into place between her two round breasts as she turned to her partner.

The woman in front of her, a girl really, smiled and wiped a streak of blood from her cheek. Giving a laugh her taller friend clapped her hands together and praised her on her first kill. What a rush! Tugging her beanie back down over her golden hair she stepped away from the corpse and over to her mentor. She didn't think she would have had the strength to kill, but it was easier then she thought. There was no hesitation in her blade, no disembodied force arrogantly called a conscience keeping her from her task. Just a quick slice across the neck and he went down. Mind you the bullet helped to nock the pipe from his hands, she still did the killing.

Her pink tongue darted out to taste the crimson substance still lingering on her silver blade. The warm metallic taste of blood mingled with the coolness of the blade gave her a kind of tingle. Like putting your tongue on the end of a battery, a sharp, almost painful jolt. Addictive in its own little way.

The two stepped out of the back alley and onto the sidewalk. The streetlights shone dimly and aloud them to walk among the crowd without anyone noticing their bloodstained outfits or the precious blade carried between the two. They laughed and talked, their murderous adventure looking like any other girl's night out. How oblivious this world is. That someone could walk away from a murder in plain sight and nobody would notice. The girl's eyes darkened to a dangerous blue as she fell into the emotion closest to pity. The man was probably a father, a brother, a son...to someone. What would she see on the news tomorrow? Another "Mysterious" murder...or the heartfelt knowledge that someone's best friend...coworker...boss, had been slain in cold blood. Would they show the crying face of a mother, the puffy eyes of his children? Would there be candles and flowers on his desk at work?

Quickly she shook the images out of her head. The last thing you want is to take pity on them. The guilt will eventually ruin you.