Post by theburntone on Sept 12, 2009 16:45:44 GMT 8
This is Constantine's Prologue story. Note that it was rated M18 by the community I posted it in =.=
I think Constantine's background needs a little retcon.
-------------
Well, it was simple. In and out, and take out anyone they saw. The SWORD team had been given these orders. The target: The house of a certain Adam Ward.
The troops were scared.
A man right behind the team, smiling and whistling. His eyes shone with warmth. They were the sort of eyes which made girls fall head over heels. They were the sort of eyes which a loving father would regard his child with. And he had an easy demeanor. The man walked with a confident, relaxed step. He looked at ease compared to the tense, nervous SWORD troopers he was behind. His white lab coat billowed gaily in the wind as he walked forth. Even the little animals which populated the Ward family's estate were attracted to him. The little cat that Valentine kept had gotten loose again. It rubbed against his foot, and he patted its head.
"Sir, we are within range of the house. Please advise on our course of action."
The man looked up.
"Defend the perimeter, stay out of sight and keep an eye out. I'm going in."
"Alone, sir?"
"Why?"
"N-nothing, sir."
"Good. I'm going in."
The man reached into the black surgical bag he carried. For all intents and purposes he was a doctor. A small, sharp instrument glinted in the light. He placed it against the wooden door and cut. The wood gave way around the lock. He was in.
The man seemed to change. No longer was there the attractive quality, the easiness, the warmth. All there was was his smile. The Surgeon had reported to work.
The first target was on the couch, sleeping. Adam Ward. The man wasn't interested in playing with this one. The scalpel he had would do just fine.
"Waste of time."
He placed a hand on Adam Ward's head. He could feel the damage in the man's body. Being rich certainly did take a toll on the body. Adam was down with a hangover. His liver probably wouldn't have held out much longer. He simply directed the pain away. Placing the knife on Adam's throat, he made a small incision.
He watched the blood well up. The incision was small, but deep. And he placed his mouth to Adam's neck and drank. He could use more power. The blood never made it past the incision before Adam Ward was dead.
"Ugh. That was nasty."
The Surgeon had never liked alcohol. Still, it was time to move on. There were three more to kill.
The next target was in her bed upstairs. The Surgeon could feel his excitement build. Margaret Ward. A woman in her 30s, she lay there in sleep, as if she was already dead. He smiled. She would be fun. He placed his hand carefully, under her left breast, and removing all sensation pushed it up until the skin beneath was taut. Perfect. The milky white skin, the delicate network of veins underneath, were exquisite to behold.
But he restrained himself from starting there. He wanted, no, needed, to try something. It would be more satisfying to watch his handiwork unfold, rather than killing her straight away. He started to trace a pattern with a scalpel. He started from the left side of her belly, and slowly drew the knife towards the right, giving it a sharp jerk upward at the end. This was the way he'd seen the Japanese kill themselves before. He'd been there when SWORD apprehended a group of Japanese terrorists, and had watched them while they honorably killed themselves. It had excited him.
He wasn't quite done. He had one more thing to do before waking her up. He reached into his bag. More scalpels emerged. Carefully, he placed one each through the ligaments at each of her joints. Then, he placed a little medical tape over her mouth. And shook her awake.
The reaction was typical. She saw him looming over her and tried to get away. She saw the wounds he had made, and he allowed her to feel some of the pain. She thrashed about, desperately trying to break free. He wasn't surprised to find his excitement nearing a peak. So he reached out and held her down. He reached for her left breast again, and lifted it up. She stilled, fearful and exhausted, her eyes wild as she stared at him. The scalpel made contact with the taut flesh, and he slowly pressed it in. He could see her silent tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes pleading with him not to kill her. He could feel the vibrations through the blade, and as it got closer to her heart he felt like he, too was going to burst. Then, it was in. She writhed frantically, struggling against the blade embedded in her chest, and he removed the scalpels pinning her down except for those on her wrists and ankles. He stood back, and watched her until she slowly stopped moving, her death throes growing weaker over time, until she finally arched her back and cried out. Then she was still.
He politely excused himself to the toilet.
Flush.
He returned and looked at her one last time. The sight of her lying on the bed, nearly nude and pinned down, got him excited all over again. He controlled himself. There were two more targets.
A large sign proclaiming "Valentine Ward" hung outside the room. He opened the door, ever so carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping occupant. A little girl. She was holding her large teddy bear, and she clutched it tightly, ever so tightly. It gave him ideas.
------------
Constantine pressed the intercom on his front gate. With him he carried a box of nails his father had wanted. There was no response. He tried again. Then, he heard the rustles. He saw two black-clad troopers rise up in front of him. There was a loud sputter as their guns fired. Constantine closed his eyes and raised his hands in front of him, but there was no impact. The bullets seemed to hover in front of his hands.
His vision seemed to blur into red. If these guys were here... He cried out in anguish, and covered his head with his hands. Something cracked. The two troopers were stunned. There were bloody, ragged holes in their armour. Uncomprehending, they collapsed.
The rest came, rifles raised. Constantine was now in control again. A cold anger had replaced the despair. He knew what he could do. The nails gave him an idea. He opened the box, and threw the nails into the air. Then, he swept them towards the oncoming troopers.
Most of them were hit through the head. They died instantly. The remaining one left was struck in the neck. His blood trickled away, forming a red pool. Constantine grinned sadistically. He picked up a few more nails. Then he fired them. The trooper, now pinned to the ground like Margaret Ward before him, struggled to escape. He didn't let that happen. Slowly, he hammered more nails into the man's fingers. One for each finger. And when the trooper was done pleading, he stood on his throat. The sound of choking could be heard, and the attempts to drum his feet were thwarted by the nails. He died in seconds.
-------------
The Surgeon heard the commotion. He saw Constantine. And he smiled. He wouldn't fight today. His work was done.
The girl would live. For a while. And that would be enough.
------------
Constantine rushed into his house. He saw his father dead on the couch. He saw his mother pinned and impaled on her bed. He didn't care. All he wanted to know was Valentine.
"Constantine..."
Valentine Ward. She was still alive!
He rushed into her room.
"Connie!"
Constantine turned white. What was lying on the bed was no longer a girl. It was a monster. Valentine Ward had been mutilated. Where her arms and legs should have been were instead limbs from her favourite teddy bear, Lucia, stitched on crudely. Her eyes had been gouged out and replaced by teddy bear eyes. They were sitting on the bed, staring into space. And despite all the blood on the bed, she was still alive.
And then she got up.
She stood on the teddy-bear legs and waved her teddy-bear arms and looked at him through her teddy-bear eyes.
"Shall we play dolls? Or house? Or doctor?"
Constantine ran. He could hear her chasing him, stumbling but still moving.
"Wait! Wait for me! Play with me, Connie!"
And she fell. Down the stairs she tumbled, and at the foot of the stairs she landed, broken and twisted.
"Don't go... please, Connie, don't go! I wanna play... wanna play... play..."
Valentine Ward remained still.
Constantine rushed out, anywhere to get away from this madness and terror. Anything. For once, his intellect couldn't control his sheer terror.
I think Constantine's background needs a little retcon.
-------------
Well, it was simple. In and out, and take out anyone they saw. The SWORD team had been given these orders. The target: The house of a certain Adam Ward.
The troops were scared.
A man right behind the team, smiling and whistling. His eyes shone with warmth. They were the sort of eyes which made girls fall head over heels. They were the sort of eyes which a loving father would regard his child with. And he had an easy demeanor. The man walked with a confident, relaxed step. He looked at ease compared to the tense, nervous SWORD troopers he was behind. His white lab coat billowed gaily in the wind as he walked forth. Even the little animals which populated the Ward family's estate were attracted to him. The little cat that Valentine kept had gotten loose again. It rubbed against his foot, and he patted its head.
"Sir, we are within range of the house. Please advise on our course of action."
The man looked up.
"Defend the perimeter, stay out of sight and keep an eye out. I'm going in."
"Alone, sir?"
"Why?"
"N-nothing, sir."
"Good. I'm going in."
The man reached into the black surgical bag he carried. For all intents and purposes he was a doctor. A small, sharp instrument glinted in the light. He placed it against the wooden door and cut. The wood gave way around the lock. He was in.
The man seemed to change. No longer was there the attractive quality, the easiness, the warmth. All there was was his smile. The Surgeon had reported to work.
The first target was on the couch, sleeping. Adam Ward. The man wasn't interested in playing with this one. The scalpel he had would do just fine.
"Waste of time."
He placed a hand on Adam Ward's head. He could feel the damage in the man's body. Being rich certainly did take a toll on the body. Adam was down with a hangover. His liver probably wouldn't have held out much longer. He simply directed the pain away. Placing the knife on Adam's throat, he made a small incision.
He watched the blood well up. The incision was small, but deep. And he placed his mouth to Adam's neck and drank. He could use more power. The blood never made it past the incision before Adam Ward was dead.
"Ugh. That was nasty."
The Surgeon had never liked alcohol. Still, it was time to move on. There were three more to kill.
The next target was in her bed upstairs. The Surgeon could feel his excitement build. Margaret Ward. A woman in her 30s, she lay there in sleep, as if she was already dead. He smiled. She would be fun. He placed his hand carefully, under her left breast, and removing all sensation pushed it up until the skin beneath was taut. Perfect. The milky white skin, the delicate network of veins underneath, were exquisite to behold.
But he restrained himself from starting there. He wanted, no, needed, to try something. It would be more satisfying to watch his handiwork unfold, rather than killing her straight away. He started to trace a pattern with a scalpel. He started from the left side of her belly, and slowly drew the knife towards the right, giving it a sharp jerk upward at the end. This was the way he'd seen the Japanese kill themselves before. He'd been there when SWORD apprehended a group of Japanese terrorists, and had watched them while they honorably killed themselves. It had excited him.
He wasn't quite done. He had one more thing to do before waking her up. He reached into his bag. More scalpels emerged. Carefully, he placed one each through the ligaments at each of her joints. Then, he placed a little medical tape over her mouth. And shook her awake.
The reaction was typical. She saw him looming over her and tried to get away. She saw the wounds he had made, and he allowed her to feel some of the pain. She thrashed about, desperately trying to break free. He wasn't surprised to find his excitement nearing a peak. So he reached out and held her down. He reached for her left breast again, and lifted it up. She stilled, fearful and exhausted, her eyes wild as she stared at him. The scalpel made contact with the taut flesh, and he slowly pressed it in. He could see her silent tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes pleading with him not to kill her. He could feel the vibrations through the blade, and as it got closer to her heart he felt like he, too was going to burst. Then, it was in. She writhed frantically, struggling against the blade embedded in her chest, and he removed the scalpels pinning her down except for those on her wrists and ankles. He stood back, and watched her until she slowly stopped moving, her death throes growing weaker over time, until she finally arched her back and cried out. Then she was still.
He politely excused himself to the toilet.
Flush.
He returned and looked at her one last time. The sight of her lying on the bed, nearly nude and pinned down, got him excited all over again. He controlled himself. There were two more targets.
A large sign proclaiming "Valentine Ward" hung outside the room. He opened the door, ever so carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping occupant. A little girl. She was holding her large teddy bear, and she clutched it tightly, ever so tightly. It gave him ideas.
------------
Constantine pressed the intercom on his front gate. With him he carried a box of nails his father had wanted. There was no response. He tried again. Then, he heard the rustles. He saw two black-clad troopers rise up in front of him. There was a loud sputter as their guns fired. Constantine closed his eyes and raised his hands in front of him, but there was no impact. The bullets seemed to hover in front of his hands.
His vision seemed to blur into red. If these guys were here... He cried out in anguish, and covered his head with his hands. Something cracked. The two troopers were stunned. There were bloody, ragged holes in their armour. Uncomprehending, they collapsed.
The rest came, rifles raised. Constantine was now in control again. A cold anger had replaced the despair. He knew what he could do. The nails gave him an idea. He opened the box, and threw the nails into the air. Then, he swept them towards the oncoming troopers.
Most of them were hit through the head. They died instantly. The remaining one left was struck in the neck. His blood trickled away, forming a red pool. Constantine grinned sadistically. He picked up a few more nails. Then he fired them. The trooper, now pinned to the ground like Margaret Ward before him, struggled to escape. He didn't let that happen. Slowly, he hammered more nails into the man's fingers. One for each finger. And when the trooper was done pleading, he stood on his throat. The sound of choking could be heard, and the attempts to drum his feet were thwarted by the nails. He died in seconds.
-------------
The Surgeon heard the commotion. He saw Constantine. And he smiled. He wouldn't fight today. His work was done.
The girl would live. For a while. And that would be enough.
------------
Constantine rushed into his house. He saw his father dead on the couch. He saw his mother pinned and impaled on her bed. He didn't care. All he wanted to know was Valentine.
"Constantine..."
Valentine Ward. She was still alive!
He rushed into her room.
"Connie!"
Constantine turned white. What was lying on the bed was no longer a girl. It was a monster. Valentine Ward had been mutilated. Where her arms and legs should have been were instead limbs from her favourite teddy bear, Lucia, stitched on crudely. Her eyes had been gouged out and replaced by teddy bear eyes. They were sitting on the bed, staring into space. And despite all the blood on the bed, she was still alive.
And then she got up.
She stood on the teddy-bear legs and waved her teddy-bear arms and looked at him through her teddy-bear eyes.
"Shall we play dolls? Or house? Or doctor?"
Constantine ran. He could hear her chasing him, stumbling but still moving.
"Wait! Wait for me! Play with me, Connie!"
And she fell. Down the stairs she tumbled, and at the foot of the stairs she landed, broken and twisted.
"Don't go... please, Connie, don't go! I wanna play... wanna play... play..."
Valentine Ward remained still.
Constantine rushed out, anywhere to get away from this madness and terror. Anything. For once, his intellect couldn't control his sheer terror.