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Author Topic: Serial Deviance  (Read 2317 times)

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Offline Operative13

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Serial Deviance
« on: February 16, 2017, 04:24:52 AM »
The year is 19XX LE, and the Great War has come to an end. Yet even as the dust settles and the people return to their daily lives, there are still those who lurk in the shadows... preying upon the weak. One such man revels in his daily hunts. The thrill of the chase, the seething adrenaline, the scent of victory. The man is no stranger to the natural order. Yet even in this cruel, unforgiving world, there are those who seek to put these predators in their rightful place. What the man seeks to gain out of all this madness? Only time will tell...

Prologue Part 1
I love women. I. Love. Women. Their looks. Their scent. Their taste. Their touch. Everything about women is absolutely magnificent! I simply cannot get enough of them! They truly are God’s Greatest Gift to this world! I cannot imagine living in a world that forsakes such pure beauty and essence for the vile and repugnant presence that are men! The sweet nectar of existence, the forbidden fruit of nature, the aroma of life itself, a woman’s body truly is a thing to behold. I simply cannot get enough.

Most men catch their prey the “traditional way”: go out on dates, spend quality time with one another, waste unhealthy amounts of money, break into arguments, renounce their relationships, rinse, repeat, until the prey is finally caught, normally done during or after the hunt. Most men fail to catch their prey with this method. I, however, do not toy with one’s prey as most men do. I trap them. I bind them. I consume them. And I leave the remains as they were. Sometimes the prey is clever, and manages to escape the trap before I get to the binding process, requiring me to resort to more... forceful methods. The prey never gets far afterwards, and I am able to consume them at my own leisure. It is an efficient method, one that has never failed me thus far, and continues to satisfy my growing hunger for more, for once one has tasted the Forbidden Fruit, one never ceases to have enough of it.

My deeds have certainly earned a reputation for myself around these parts. After a couple, it was enough to get me a section in a small newspaper. After a few more, enough to put me on the front page. After a dozen more, the radios began buzzing about my activities, and soon after, the news channels began airing it! Even the World Trek, one of the most respectable papers in the country, began writing articles about me! Yet no one has a clue as to my identity, not even the police who are so desperate to find a culprit that they dedicated an entire section to put me down. Truly, I am the Master of Hunters.

I’ve been genuinely careful after revealing my identity to others, lest anyone gets lucky enough to fit the pieces together and find me out. Since I began my hunts, I’ve been careful to keep track of those who knew me by name or face, especially my face. Fortunately for me, I’ve never had any significant relationships in my past days and the one and only relative I had left, my mother, past away long ago from lung disease. The only real faces I see on a regular basis are the part-time employees who packages my goods without handing a second glance to me as they immediately turn to the next customer waiting in line, and the neighbors I occasionally pass by on my way home. My steady, laid-back job requires practically little to no contact with others, since I work entirely at home, allowing me the benefit of relishing in my own comforts. I’m certain that if anyone were to visit me by an off-chance, they would be caught off guard by the rather large portrait of a nude woman’s body dominating the living room, her head cut off by the edge of the frame. They would ask about the portrait, and I would promptly reply with a small story of how I managed to acquire such work of art off a small storekeeper for a ridiculously low price. The painter who crafted this magnificent piece apparently shared the same taste in women as I. When no one wanted to buy his paintings, the man killed himself after mounting a huge sum of debt, leaving nothing but his paintings as a token of his legacy. I pity I could not have found this man any sooner, for I surely would have kept coming for more! So I bought the painter’s entire collection off the storekeeper, stashing it in my storeroom for me to indulge in on my free time. I only hung the one piece in the living room because it represented just about everything I love about this world. It was a piece that spoke to me, that spoke to my entire body and soul, my entire being, representing all that I stood for, that yearned to be loved, praised, and worshipped. And who else was better to fit that role than myself? And so I hung it in the living room. So I would tell my guests more-or-less. If any came, that is.

After my job, after my chores, after my errands and duties, when it came time for leisure, I grab my clothes and tools and head outside to indulge myself in yet another Hunt. The city was my hunting ground, and the prey were its inhabitants. Catching prey is no easy task. One must be mindful of all things and be several steps ahead of their prey in order to catch them without a hitch. One mistake can cost more than just a missed meal. Others have tried to follow in my footsteps, but none have managed to perfect the techniques I had carefully and meticulously crafted during my time hunting. Too sloppy, too careless, too brash, among other things have led to their demise. But not me. I always handle my prey with care.

Just off somewhere in a relatively isolated part of the ghettos, I spot a rather tipsy woman strolling along the sidewalk under the dim streetlights of the city. She wasn’t particularly well-dressed: her wrinkled and torn clothes were a garbled brown-green-black, with a plain tan skirt, a boot on one foot, and a shoe and white sock on the other. Her long, ruffled hazelnut hair stuck out unevenly at certain parts and she held a half-empty beer bottle in one of her hands. Her features, however, were quite provoking. She looked no older than her mid-twenties, and freckles dotted her sleek, pale-white face.The woman had curves in just about all the right places, and while it wasn’t as highly pronounced as some of the prey I’ve caught, it was enough to be considered worthwhile. The woman stumbled out of the light and near a deserted alleyway up ahead. I judge my openings, and keeping to mind anything that would spoil the trap, I set my plan in motion. As the woman slumped next to the dark alleyway, I huddle next to her and hustle the woman into the alleyway with relative ease. Confused by her sudden change in direction, the woman began to utter a sound before I silence her with a dose of my scented cloth. The prey has been caught. I check my angles once more, ensuring nothing can disturb my meal, before I usher her body deeper into the dark alley to be consumed.

After a few minutes, my meal was finished. Wasting no time in departing, I proceeded to make my exit off the other side of the alley and end my day as I usually do without incident. How terribly wrong I was.

With the way the ghettos are organized, there are several alleyways criss-crossing one another in a maze-like labyrinth, with dead-ends and circles all around. One could easily lose oneself in these alleyways if they were inexperienced around these parts. With that in mind, one could say it was to be expected that I should find myself running into one such person by chance, even at this time of night.

As I was about to pass an intersection, I hear a rather loud commotion coming out from the right alley, and stopped just behind the wall.

“Please, leave me alone!” said the voice of a young girl. “I don’t know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

“You’re a long way from home, Missy...” a husky voice replied. “...got yourself lost coming to these parts?”

Curious as to what was going on, I decided for a brief moment that I would simply watch before carrying on with my own business. So I peered over the corner and observed the commotion as it unfolded.

“Please, just go away,” the girl demanded. I was stunned to find just how alluring she was. She had to be around her mid-teens judging by her school uniform, but one could already tell she had the form of a fully-grown woman. Her large bust was bulging from her plain-white collar shirt, her long, wavy blonde hair reached way down to her thin waist, and her well-rounded thighs peering out from her pleated skirt shone splendidly through the dim moonlight! What I wouldn’t give to consume her... shame someone else got to her first.

The scrawny man assaulting the poor girl leaned in and placed his arm over her shoulder, asserting dominance over his prey. With glaring eyes, he eyed up-and-down the girl’s body with malicious intent, his grin smeared across his dull face.

“That’s no good Missy!” he pouted. “It’s dangerous to go alone out there! Maybe I could offer you some protection... for a price.” He placed his hand underneath the girl’s chin and pressed up, lifting her face to his. At this point I could already guess what would happen next, and debated to myself whether I should leave or stick around to snap a few photos... but it didn’t matter. I should have left when I had the chance.

The girl didn’t take kindly to the man’s advance, and promptly smashed her forehead right into the man’s nose. He hollered in pain as blood dripped from his nostrils, only to be kneed in the one place every man wishes not to. The girl took her opportunity and tried to make her getaway, only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled back in by the man’s tight grip. He wrapped his arm around her waist and immediately pulled a knife to her neck, the sharp blade barely touching the skin. The man laughed manically as the girl struggled to break free.

“You got me real good there, Pretty Girl...” he taunted.

“Let go of me!” she demanded, wriggling her body around in vain. He only gripped tighter as she did. “Do you know who you’re messing with!?”

“Does it look like I care?” he replied, wrapping his face around her body, sniffing through that broken olfactory appendage of his. “I was thinking about letting you off easy... but then you just had to do that to me... no, I think you deserve something else...” He began pressing the knife against the girl’s throat.

“You won’t get away with this!” the girl shouted. “My dad will make sure scum like you get what’s coming to you!”

“Oh... Daddy’s Little Girl, huh?”

“He’s not just any dad... he’s Detective William Stromberg, the best detective in the city!”

That name... William Stromberg... he’s the one constantly breathing down my neck every time I hunt for prey. Ever since the police force assigned him to the Special Case Unit, I’ve had to change my schedule on a daily basis just to throw them off. The detective has a knack for solving crime and had a long-running success streak since he came to the force. No longer was I able to freely catch big game like I normally would... I’ve had to resort to small fry to sustain my hunger since.

“Detective Stromberg?” the man grunted.

“You heard me right... he’ll have you locked up in time with the evidence he has on you. You’re nothing more than spare change to him!”

The man did nothing more than grin hysterically at her baseless threats. “And where is this ‘Detective Stromberg,’ huh? Out here, you’re nothing kid, and Detective or no Detective, I’ll do what I damn well please!” He tugged her hair high into the air, the girl screaming in pain as he playfully toyed with her. “Now Stromberg... that name rings a bell... I think there’s a bounty for his daughter that some group was willing to pay quite handsomely for her. And how would they love to send his daughter in pieces!” The man cackled as he suddenly threw the girl against a pile of trash.

“Forget manners, I think I’ll just cut you up and claim my reward, right here and now!” With a crazed look, he lifted his knife, ready to strike. “This’ll be the easiest cash-in I’ve ever had!”

I knew I should have left...  it never did any good for me to stick around because I knew instinctively that if I ever saw harm come to a woman, I’d do something about it. After all, they’re too good to be wasted away.

Breathing a deep and hardy sigh, I pulled up my black facemask from underneath my shirt collar and reached for my small six-shot revolver in a chest holster hidden behind my large trench coat. Checking my shots, I snap the wheel back into place and cocked the hammer back as I tilt my fedora and emerged from the shadows.

“You’re mine!” the man yelled as he lunged at the paralyzed girl, her life apparently flashing before her eyes before I pulled the trigger. The knife was sent flying across the air as the man’s hand now had a bloody gaping hole through it. At first, everyone froze and stood dumbfounded at what had happened. That was until the man looked through the hole in his hand and immediately screamed in pain, cursing quite colourfully I might add.

“I wouldn’t touch her if I were you...” I said, keeping my gun trained on the pitifully frail man.

“You bloody bastard!” he cried out, holding his injured hand in the palm of the other. “You’ll pay for this!”

“You wanna bet your life on that?” I retorted. This fight was over before it began, but if he was stupid enough to charge at me, I’d be in a bigger mess than what I originally got myself into. The last thing I needed was a body under my name. And the Detective’s daughter was there to serve as witness out of all people.

“Why you...” he muttered.

“I’ll be taking my prize now, so if you don’t mind, why don’t you scram before I put another shot into you? And this time I won’t be so generous.”

The man clenched his teeth before making the smart decision and running off into the distance.

“I won’t forget this! I’ll be back, and once I do, you’ll regret ever crossing lines with me!” With his bloody hand clenched between his armpit, he disappeared into the night. I didn’t know what to be scared of next: whether the threat that man made was something to worry about, or the fact I now have the Detective’s daughter to deal with. I lower my gun and briefly crossed eyes with the girl still sitting among the heap of trash. My eyes widened at the emblem attached to her right breast pocket: a black-and-gold kite shield with a pine tree and cardinal bird flying over it in its center. At the bottom was a banner with the word “Leviticus” inscribed inside it. My old high school. How ironic for her to be attending the same school I was in. That might come in handy in the future.

I open my trench coat and tuck the pistol back into the holster before debating what to do next. Out of the silence, the girl suddenly spoke to me.

“T-Thank you...” the girl muttered.

“Don’t mention it,” I bluntly reply. I decided I wanted to end the night and just head home as usual. That little stunt I pulled earlier was surely going to attract attention sooner or later, so without hesitation I begin walking out of the alley. Hopefully the girl will take it as a chance encounter and not think too much into it.

“W-Wait!” she cried out. I stopped midway through my step upon her demand. Shuffling out of the trash heap and patting down her now-dirtied uniform, the girl then asked. “Why did you save me?”

I hesitated for a moment, putting together words that would sufficiently answer her question. But then a shadow of doubt hovered over me, wondering whether I should answer in the first place. Anything I say could be used against me if she goes back and tells her father about it. Better for me to keep it brief and leave out the details.

“I was just passing by. Don’t think too much of it.” That should be satisfying enough, and so continued walking.

“Hold up.”

What does she want now?

“W-What’s your name?” It seems like she’s just making up questions now... “I’d like to at least know the man who rescued me.”

“It’s Frank,” I say, though that’s not in the least my real name.

“Frank, huh? My name’s Julia. Julia Stromberg. Nice to meet you!” She raises her hand and smiles. Now she wants me to shake hands with her.

“Good night.” I promptly tell her and continue on. I’ve already overstayed my welcome, and I certainly didn’t want to waste anymore time with her nonsense. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the message. She immediately shouted for me to stop and ran right in front of me, spreading her arms wide and exhibiting a defiant face. She sure is persistent.

“What is it?” I calmly asked.

“What kind of response is that!?” she scolded. “You don’t just up and leave when someone’s offering to be your friend!”

“Friend?” I honestly can’t figure out what’s going on in that absurd head of hers.

“Of course! You saved me after all. You wouldn’t do that unless you were a good person.”

“Listen girl...” I explained.

“Julia,” she interrupted.

“Julia. I am in no way your “friend.” I’m just a random stranger who just happened to pass by and nothing else. Now if you excuse me, I’d like to get on my business now.”

I stepped to the side, only for Julia to step in my direction and block me again. I step to the other side and she does the same. This girl...

“There must be a reason you stopped to help me. A random stranger wouldn’t just up and risk his life for a random girl like that.” Her gaze turned toward my chest holster partially hidden from my open trench coat. “Why do you have a gun?”

...

Idiot! How could I’ve forgotten that? Out of everything, that should have been the most obvious reason why I should have never intervened: no civilian is allowed to carry firearms. Now she might actually put me at risk if I’m reported to the authorities. Do I silence her? Claim her as leverage? Evade her questions? Come up with a reasonable lie? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to save her after all...

“I...” I began to mutter, my mind conflicted on what to do next.

“You’re not one of those undercover cops Dad sent to watch out for me, are you?”

“...what?” Me? A cop?

“If you are, then please tell him to lay off. I don’t need his lackeys to protect me! I’m old enough to take care of myself!”

That’s definitely not what I saw earlier... she could hardly fend for herself. And that more-or-less explains why she’s out alone at night.

“You got the wrong idea, Julia. I’m not an officer, nor am I friends with your Dad,” I explain.

“Then why do you have a gun?” Julia asserted. “You’re not a hitman, by chance, are you?”

“No,” I bluntly answered.

“You said you were going to claim me as your prize earlier.”

“I lied.” Though that’s not to say I won’t take her as prey someday either.

“Then you’re seriously just some random stranger who just “happens” to pass by and rescue someone out of kindness?”

“End of story,” I finished. “Are we done here?”

“Not at all,” Julia replied. “I don’t believe anything you just said to me.”

“Believe all you want, I’ll be going now.” With that, I decide to turn and go the opposite direction, not that it mattered where I went, as long I get out of that girl’s sight.

“W-Wait a minute!” she cried out again. “You’re just going to leave me out here all alone!?”

“You said you can take care of yourself. So goodbye.” Already, I can hear footsteps trailing behind me.

“Why don’t you tag along with me...”

“Not interested.” This girl... I swear if she tries to follow me home, I’ll have my way with her.

For a brief moment, the footsteps behind me stopped. Maybe she’s given up now.

“I’ll tell Dad about you and your gun.”

...goddamnit. I stopped right as I heard those words. I knew she’d pop it up sooner or later...

“If you’re not a cop, then you must be a criminal. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten a gun. Now if you don’t want the police investigating you and pulling up whatever secrets you may have hidden, you should stop and do what I ask. Unless that’s what you want, of course!” I turn my head and see her grinning triumphantly with her arms crossed, as if she’s just won big.

She’s blackmailing me, and being cocky about it. I’m starting to hate this girl more and more... though I wouldn’t expect less from the daughter of a famous detective. My options have already run dry, and anything out-of-line will definitely cost me more than the trouble she’ll probably put me through. As much as I hate to admit it, I bit off more than I could chew with this one.

With a deep and frustrated sigh, I turn around and ask, “What do you want?”

“Just for you to accompany me until I get to where I need to.”

“Why don’t you call your dad’s lackeys for that?”

“I don’t like them in the least bit!” she huffed. “They’re always so clingy to me, and won’t leave me alone for even a second! I know it’s because Dad asked them to, and to make sure I don’t get into any trouble, but they’re just so annoying to deal with. It’s ruining my social life! You look like an alright guy though, and I don’t think you’re the type to be clingy like they are judging by the way you act...” Was that supposed to be a complement? “...so I was hoping you could just tag along for a bit and keep those creeps away for a little bit.”

“Didn’t you say I was a criminal earlier? I could shoot you whenever I want.”

“I don’t think you would,” Julia rebuttaled. “If you wanted to, you would’ve done so already, but you held back. I can tell, you know.” Oh, now she can read minds. What’s there that the damn detective didn’t teach to this kid?

“So you want me to just walk with you?”

“That’s right.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all. And I promise I won’t bother you anymore after this.”

“Fine. I’ll walk with you. But once we get there, I’m leaving.”

“Then it’s settled!” she cheered, grasping her hands together. “Now we should probably get a move on. Don’t want to come home too late and worry Dad now!” It’s midnight right now. How much later can she possibly get?

“By the way Frank...” said Julia. “Why don’t you take off that mask of yours? You look kind of silly with that on.”

I was not amused in the slightest by her statement.

“I have my reasons.”

“You can take it off Frank. After all, we’re both friends now! And friends don’t hide things from each other.”

They do actually, and it’s usually the things they really don’t want anyone to know about. I should know.

In defiance, I kept the mask on and simply ignored her again.

“You’re not going to take off the mask?”

“No.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you take off the mask.”

...

One could say that getting roasted alive in a volcano would be an understatement to the levels of frustration boiling inside me. I bite my tongue and reluctantly pulled down the mask from my face, tilting my fedora down as I did so the girl wouldn’t get a full glimpse. I just need to get this night over with and then I can get back to my normal schedule.

Julia stood awestruck when she saw my fully-revealed face.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re younger than I thought you were...” she muttered.

“Were you expecting something else?”

“Kind of. I was maybe thinking you were a middle-aged man behind that gruntled voice of yours, but I guess you can never judge a book by it’s cover.”

“So, where is this place you have to go to?” Hopefully it isn't too far...

“Oh, it’s a house somewhere on Fifth Dunkan Avenue. I was sure it was around here somewhere...”

Goddamnit. That street’s on the other end of the ghettos. Not only is the girl totally helpless, but she’s managed to get herself lost too!

Not wanting to waste anymore time and energy putting up with this facade, I start my way off as Julia hopelessly looked around at street signs before realizing I was already moving.

“H-Hey, wait up!” she called.

Not that I would’ve known at the time, but the moment I accepted her little request was the moment everything seemed to go downhill for me from then on.

I should’ve left when I had the chance.
Prologue Part 2
Traveling halfway across the place was a bigger pain than I anticipated. Although it was the dead of night, this was around the time all the crooks and skanks started crawling out of their filthy abodes and filled the streets with their kind. Having spent quite some nights around these parts, I can certainly say they weren’t the type of people you would want to hang around with for too long. At all actually.

Having a young girl with a pretty face trailing behind you didn’t help the situation either. She stood out like a blossoming rose in a field of wilting flowers. There were all sorts of strange looks from passer-bys as we made our way through the ghettos. Shady men congregating around corners eyed us in perversion and suspicion. Scantily-clad women coaxed us for attention. Just about every conceivable lowlife you could possibly imagine took note of our presence. It was unnervingly unpleasant, even for someone such as myself.

I hid my face as best I could, tilting my hat low and keeping the collars of my trench coat up as I walked while Julia dangled along, admiring the exotic nightlife of the ghettos. I made every effort to avoid whatever trouble we might run into. If there was a group of men blocking the road ahead, we turned the other way. If there were some rowdy bars or taverns nearby, we strolled as far away from them as possible. Julia, standing out like a small, flickering light in a sea of darkness, made for a prime attraction among the delinquents and outcasts of society, and taking into account what that thug said earlier, some might come to realize who the girl is and attempt to stab at her like he did. I don’t even want to imagine what’ll happen afterwards if they do...

After some time across the length of the ghettos, we finally reached the residential area. Nothing more than a disorganized mix of brick and wood buildings stacked next to other one-by-one, some a mere one-floor tall while others towered three-to-four stories high. It’s said that these parts used to be a quiet suburban neighborhood out in the countryside, but overtime the city’s population boomed and expanded rapidly outwards. Eventually its expansion reached all the way out here, and... not wanting to waste space and money... the city planners decided in their infinite wisdom to build between the old ones. Thus why the neighborhoods are the mess they are today. It used to be a good neighborhood too, but nowadays it’s dominated by foreigners moving here in search of a fresh start. And the criminal elements seeking to exploit these vulnerable individuals... I recall catching a few prey here myself, but eventually stopped coming after learning how long it took to walk home, though the exotic meals made the trips worthwhile.

Out of the corner of the dimly-lit streets stood a tall, metal pole with white street signs and a lit gas lantern. Fifth Dunkan Avenue was just around the corner.

“We’re here,” I announced.

I stopped short of the corner and look down the street at a long row of shabby one-story houses. It was quiet, all but for the one howling dog somewhere in the distance. A few still even kept their lights on at this late hour.

Turning up behind me, Julia gazed down the street and instantly lit up.

“This is it!” she cried, before dashing off ahead of me.

I stood there wondering whether I should take off now or wait around, now that’s she found what she was looking for. But that was already answered for me when Julia called out from a distance.

“What are you standing around for? Come on!” she waved over.

I breathed a deep sigh. Just a bit longer, I told myself. With hands tucked deep in my coat pockets, I strolled behind the blonde schoolgirl as she took her time glancing at the address of each house.

Eventually, she stopped at one of the houses: a small wooden one-story house with an empty front porch. The front lawn was nothing but barren dirt with a few patches of yellow grass scattered around. The windows were lit and the short, brick chimney atop was bellowing smoke. With a bright smile, Julia eagerly dashed up to the front porch. With that, I considered my job here finished, and begin turning back for home.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Julia suddenly said.

“Going home,” I answered. “I’m done here, aren’t I?”

“Not until you’ve introduced yourself, you’re not! Now come up here before I change my mind.”

“That again?” I utter.

Straining my face and pinching between my exhausted eyes, I reluctantly turned faced and waltzed up to the side front porch beside her. Now I have to put up a facade and remember these people the next time I see them. How I wish this night to be over...

All I got was a cheerful smile as I stood beside Julia. She knew I was clearly irritated by her threats as I turned and faced the door, toying with me like a cat with their food. Yet I could do nothing but watch as Julia reached out and announced our presence with three concise knocks. I readied my best first impression and braced myself for whomever answered the door.

The door unhinged, and behind it stood a tan-skinned middle-aged woman with dark hair and emerald eyes. She had her hair wrapped up in a small bun at the back of her head and wore a green-yellow patterned dress embroidered with delicate geometric designs wrapped around with a white apron. She looked exhausted.

“Julia!” exclaimed the woman, as cheerfully as she could. I could see the strain in her eyes. “How good to see you!”

“Hello, Mrs. Nimri!” Julia greeted.

“What brings you at such an hour?”

“I came to see how Mida was doing. Also to drop off her homework for class,” she explained.

“It’s quite late for you to be doing that, don’t you think?” said Mrs. Nimri. “Wouldn’t your father be worried?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the girl waved. “I have him to protect me, after all!” Right then, both their eyes turned towards me. The way they did so in sync was rather unnerving. “He’s a cop, just like my Dad!”

...what?

Julia suddenly frowned. “Well?” she began. “Introduce yourself!”

I smiled as best I could and lifted my hat to Mrs. Nimri. “Frank Chapel, at your service,” I said.

“Mr. Chapel, is it? It’s a good thing you’re with Miss Stromberg coming all this way. It gets dangerous at night, you see.”

“I’m well aware of that, Madam,” I reply.

“Why don’t you two come in?” the woman invited. “I have soup ready in the kitchen.” She stepped offside and gestured us in.
Prologue Part 3
The home was quite clean and spacious despite its outward appearance, but perhaps that might be because it doesn’t have that many things inside it to begin with. The living room, which only contained a small couch facing a small television set, a large cabinet, and a burning chimney crammed into a small corner with a handful of portraits and pictures hanging among the walls, doubled both as a kitchen and dining room. A plain wooden dining table sat off to the side where a small lamp hung from the ceiling, four chairs tucked neatly in, while the kitchen’s stove, sink, cabinets and refrigerator took up an entire side of the room. Hard, square tiles were the only things distinguishing the kitchen area from the living room’s plank flooring.

“You can hang your coat on the stand there, Mr. Chapel.” Mrs. Nimri pointed to an empty coat stand next to the doorway.

“Thank you,” I replied, and instinctively unwrapped the thick, dark coat off... before I realized how stupid I was.

The moment I saw the gun protruding out from my chest holster, I immediately turned to Mrs. Nimri expecting her to panic, but instead she merely stared anxiously at it. Perhaps I should explain a bit to try to ease her tension...

“Mrs. Nimri, the gun’s for...”

“I know,” she interrupted. “You’re a cop. You’re required to have it on you at all times.”

That’s right... She thinks I’m a cop. No wonder Julia said what she did earlier. Otherwise I’d have to explain myself why I had a gun on me... smart of her to think ahead like that.

“You mind if I keep it on?” I ask.

“Not at all, Officer,” Mrs. Nimri replied.

“Please, call me Frank,” I cheerfully said as best a tone I could. I hate putting up facades...

“Mrs. Nimri, if you don’t mind...” Julia interrupted. “Can I go see Mida?”

“Of course Julia!” answered Mrs. Nimri. “She’s up right now, so I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nimri!” Julia said, before speeding down the hallway off to the side.

“Frank, can you help me with the cooking?” the woman suddenly asked of me.

Me? Cook!? Do I look like someone who makes his own meals? I wouldn’t know the slightest thing about...

“You can cut the vegetables for the soup while I stir the broth.”

...oh. Well, that should be simple enough.

“I’d be glad to, Mrs. Nimri,” I obliged.

“It’s Eesha,” said the woman.

“Eesha, then,” I repeat.

Hanging my coat, hat, and waist-pouch onto the hooks of the coat hanger, we both headed for the kitchen area, where a large pot of water was already boiling atop the burning gas stove. Eesha stopped at the sink and pulled out a large bowl of freshly-washed fruits and vegetables, setting it atop the kitchen counter. I watched idly as she shuffled through the cupboards before taking out a cutting board and small knife.

“Come Frank,” Eesha said.

She ushered me in with the end of her finger before flipping the knife over so that the handle faced me.  I instinctively grabbed ahold of it, eyeing my own reflection in the blade’s thin, shining metal.

“You can start cutting the things in the bowl here for me. Make sure it’s small and even for the girls, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” I replied. Rolling up the white sleeves of my dress shirt, I ready myself to begin cutting before the woman suddenly stopped me.

“Wait a minute,” she said, placing her soft hand firmly onto my chest. What is it now?

Reaching behind her back, Eesha untied her white apron and removed it from her dress. She then reached over my head with the loose collar of the apron and, stepping behind me, tied the thin strings in the back snug and fit.

“There! That should keep your suit nice and clean,” she smiled.

It’s not like it’s an expensive suit or anything, but... “Thanks.”

“No problem!” Eesha replied.

With that, we set to work. The woman grabbed ahold of some spices, powder, and sauces from one of the cabinets down below and, with a large soup spoon, meticulously went through each and every glass jar and poured small increments into the boiling water. She then mixed the fuming concoction with the soup ladle, stirring slow and evenly as the steam rose high into the small vents above.

I, meanwhile, busied myself with cutting the copious amounts of vegetables piled in that huge bowl of hers. I’ve never tried cutting anything that didn’t involve ropes and wires, among other things, and wanting to keep up good impressions, I tried my best at following the woman’s directions. Taking out the large carrot in the bowl, I proceeded to slice the vegetable section-by-section. With a quick sawing motion, I carefully dissected the plant into even bits and pushed them off to the side for Eesha to add into the mixture. After applying the final cut to the carrot, I moved onto the tomato sitting atop the bowl next.

The tomato was a bit trickier to handle. It wasn’t straight and even as the carrot I had cut earlier. It’s round, uneven shape meant I had to hold the fruit down at certain places, and the water dripping from its soft, slippery skin did not help either. Grasping the tomato at one hand and placing the kitchen knife at the other, I proceeded to cut the fruit, only to have the blade slip off the side.

“Gah!” I yelped. I let go of the tomato and lifted my left hand above the sink. I had scathed a bit of skin from my thumb, a tint of blood oozing out from its gash.

“Oh, Heavens!” Eesha cried out. “Are you alright!?”

“I-It’s nothing,” I reply, trying to maintain composure, even as a river of blood dripped deep into the sink basin. “Just a minor accident.”

“Well, we can’t let you bleed like that! I’ll go fetch some cloth. Wait here for me, alright?”

The woman then hurried off into the hallway and disappeared into the bathroom. The shutter of cabinets could be heard as Eesha rummaged through their interior, searching for anything that could be used to bandage my bleeding thumb. During her occupancy, I began to ponder why a man such as myself was spending the middle of the night helping a complete stranger cook her soup for a pair of younglings he had no concern for. A man of my stature, forced to endure such pains and blunders for the sake of maintaining this detestable facade. If I had not saved that girl hours earlier, I would not be here to begin with! Yet here I am... wasting away for these people.

The clock above the television ticked on as I stared into the sink’s abyss, contemplating my next move.

“You cut just like my husband,” Eesha suddenly announced, to my surprise. I did not expect her to get here from the bathroom that quickly... “Always forcing the knife in, instead of letting it gently slide like it’s supposed to.”

“Sorry... I’m not used to cutting these things. I never cook my own meals, you see.”

“Ah... not just cutting, either,” she grinned.

“What do you mean?”

Eesha took my hand and began wrapping the bandage around the open wound.

“My husband was a soldier in the Sardanian army, long before the war started. He was a strong-minded man, always believing that force and power can get him through anything life threw at him. Yet despite all his years of training and discipline, he could barely hold a conversation with a woman! He had never talked to a single girl his entire life before I met him in Sassani. The first time I laid eyes on him, I thought I couldn’t possibly love that man. He’s way too old for me, he doesn’t have any redeeming qualities I find appealing, and he acts like a mad brute all the time. Certainly not the gentleman I had in mind!”

“What changed?” I asked, though only to keep the conversation rolling. For a brief moment she’d stop wrapping.

“...me, I suppose.” She continued wrapping. “Strange, don’t you think? That I was the one who ended up changing.”

“I don’t believe that’s strange,” I answer. “People go through changes all the time.”

“That’s what I told my husband when we first met. I told him the only way I’d marry him was if he’d straightened himself out and change, before walking off.”

“And you came back?”

She giggled. “He came to me. A number of times, actually. Always the same. Flowers, chocolates, then his horrid attempt at cooking... I rejected him all the same.” Eesha knotted the bandage together. “But... if it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be living a different life today.”

A long silence drifted between us. I looked at my bandaged hand and grasped a few times. For a bloody thumb, this seemed to be a bit overdone...

“At the time, I’d been seeing his friend ever since that first day. He was a gorgeous man, and quite the romanticist too... Jamal, his name was. He was everything I looked for in a man... but he was too much of an Idealist.” She grabbed ahold of the kitchen knife I dropped and began cutting the vegetables in my place. My eyes tuned to the cutting board while keeping an ear to her story. So that’s how you cut those...

“He took everything so seriously. Always talking about love, fate, and faithfulness. Always so attached to me. Always coaxing me to do things I had no interest in. I grew tired of his nonsense, and eventually I came back for my husband. Sure, he was rowdy and didn’t pay as much attention to me as Jamal did, especially around their friends... and he could hardly cook anything edible if he life depended on it!”

I gave a lighthearted chuckle. “I guess I can see the resemblance in that.”

Eesha giggled right after, before going back to her cutting. “But it gave me back a sense of normality. No drama, no fantasy, no wishful thinking...  just me and my husband living our lives like we should.”

Speaking of which... “Where is your husband, by the way?”

“No longer with us, sadly...” Her voice appeared to dip saying those words. “He died in the last days of fighting. He did everything to protect us up to that point. Even during the Siege, he gave everything to make sure me and my daughter got out of Sassani safely. Jamal didn’t do that with his family. He couldn’t bear the thought of surrender, and committed suicide alongside them. My good friend Lina was his wife at the time, and when I heard what happened, I just... broke down. Thank the Gods she spared her little one from their fate.”

“I’m sorry to hear...” I nonchalantly said, though I could care less about the poor woman’s husband.

“What about you?” Eesha suddenly asked. “I’m sure you’re tired hearing my tragic story this whole time.”

“Not at all!” I proclaimed. “I find it intriguing, to be honest.”

Eesha chuckled. “You’re too kind.” Gathering the cut vegetables, she threw them in a small bowl set aside of the cutting board and stepped in front of me. I back stepped just as her gentle skin grazed my chest. Control yourself... The woman dumped the entire bowl into the soup and began stirring the boiling broth.

“So? What story do you have?” The woman repeated. “You weren’t a soldier in the war, were you?”

“For... obvious reasons,” I answered, raising my arms to my own figure.

Eesha glanced over, past her long, dark hair. “Even in war, they still need officers to keep the peace, don’t they?” She smiled.

“All the time,” I asserted with confidence. At this point I should have left no doubt to my position and authority. As long as I maintain my composure, my facade should last.

“Before you continue, can you bring these to the girls in the bedroom down the hall?” Eesha had taken two bowls out from the overhead cupboard and poured the thick soup into each one. She turned and offered them to me. “I’m sure Julia would like to spend more time chatting with Mida together.”

I gracefully smiled, taking ahold of the steaming bowls in her hands.

“With pleasure.”
« Last Edit: February 23, 2017, 04:41:28 AM by Operative13 »
“To give of oneself is the noblest of all acts.”

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Offline OhGodHelpMe

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Re: Serial Deviance
« Reply #1 on: February 22, 2017, 03:12:12 PM »
Ah damn, I'm pretty sure I've read this before  :hmm: Will my review still be of worth if I've already read this?

Offline Operative13

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Re: Serial Deviance
« Reply #2 on: February 22, 2017, 03:31:09 PM »
I'm planning to include an extra section apart from the current prologue to read. It's more of a placeholder for now until the update ;)
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Offline OhGodHelpMe

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Re: Serial Deviance
« Reply #3 on: February 24, 2017, 05:26:21 PM »
Tuesday. TUESDAY, Manimal said. We could all be dead on friggin Tuesday.

"Hey, Alexander, when do you think you wanna go drive the Archaemenids out of Egypt?"

"EH, MAYBE TUESDAY"

"Hey, Richard I, when should we begin our offensive against Saladin's forces and the saracens?"

"LET'S GO FOR TUESDAY, LADS"

"Hey, Emperor Li Anquan, we just received another threat from the Mongols! They're ravaging the countryside and they'll come here without mercy if we don't respond! When do you want to reply?!"

"Mon...nah, Tuesday lol"

Well, perhaps my perspective is slanted since I'd already read the first part of this. I think I already said before that telling the story from the POV of a cunning liar and rapist was both dark and intriguing, so let's get this show on the road like a truck driving through a parade in Nice.  :ninja: Maybe that one was too dark.

First thing's first, Op. Space out your paragraphs. Your lines are so incredibly thick I would think you're preparing to lay siege to Constantinople or something! It's really only the first part that's guilty of this. Maybe that's why everyone seems to have the impression that it's longer than it really is. The other parts are just fine.

The fun thing about having it written in 1st person is that we know we can't really trust the narrator! Watching Koimonogatari recently made me remember how thrilling it can be knowing that everything is being interpreted by the narrator, who is already a questionable figure. Our guy seems to be telling the story from a relatively objective point of view...for now. I do hope to see more of him internally going over his own actions and either justifying why he's doing it or groaning about situations he's forced into. The mental gymnastics of people like him can be entertaining to delve into.

I may sound insensitive here, but Nimri sounds like a pretty good lay, huh? She cooks, washes, cuts, and sounds fairly pretty for her age.  :hmm: If only she allowed 'Frank' to handle the seasoning for the soup. I'm sure he wouldn't dare add anything that would render Nimri unconscious long enough to... :ninja: Then again, that would be silly and careless.

Nimri herself sounds very spirited and wise with her backstory. Props on having her reminisce about that sort of stuff. The tranquility in the scene was quite relaxing for the reader, but unbearable for the MC, I'm sure. I wonder if this is building up to some sort of Death Note scenario where has ends up meeting Julie's father and joins him on the case to catch the infamous Serial Diddler  :biggrin:

How low are the MC's standards, by the way? It doesn't seem like he'll just go for anybody, but did he catch prey in the ghettos before they turned into ghettos or after? I'd imagine 8/10 catches would be prostitutes and drug addicts.

I liked the additions to this. It's like a dark version of Rapeman (which was already dark, but it was so ridiculous that it was also extremely comedic). The dialogue was really nice too, true to each character and engaging. A woman reminiscing about her past love and younger years sounds like a woman actually reminiscing, and an irritated rapist who just wants to go home sounds exactly like an irritated rapist putting up a facade of politesse.

Offline Operative13

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Re: Serial Deviance
« Reply #4 on: February 24, 2017, 07:24:24 PM »
"Milord, when are we going to take Jerusalem back from the Saracens?"

"We'll do it on a Tuesday! Deus Vult!"  :ninja:

My good friend... I'm always laying siege to Constantinople! Bring your cannons, because those walls are going to be 10 feet higher!  :D

On a more serious note, you should expect more of those "giant walls of text" whenever I get into anything descriptive. Just setting the stage and what-not. I try to space them out according to what "Frank" is currently talking about, however I do find spacing collective thoughts too much in this case makes things seem rather... disjointed.  :-\

As for Nimri, mind you, we're speaking from the perspective of this... man.  :unsure: What he sees as a good lay and what we might see could be completely different  :ninja: Then again, he hasn't failed us yet, has he?  :confused:

The MC is willing to scrounge on a few scraps if it means not starving, if you get my drift  :sure: Of course, a high-end full-course meal is always preferred over... leftovers.  :ninja: Untouched and Unspoiled. How most of us enjoy our meals.  :ninja: You might say he thinks the same way...

As for what develops later, you'll just have to see if I update the rest of the prologue later in the weekend.  ;) I could say it would be counterproductive for him to do anything suspicious with all these people around  :-X
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Offline legomaestro

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Re: Serial Deviance
« Reply #5 on: February 26, 2017, 04:35:43 PM »
General Thoughts
1. I love women. I. Love. Women. Their looks. Their scent. Their taste. Their touch. Everything about women is absolutely magnificent! I simply cannot get enough of them! They truly are God’s Greatest Gift to this world!
- Amen to that.

2. Truly, I am the Master of Hunters.
- Jack The Ripper?
- Also now that I know what his praise of women implies, I retract my previous statement.

3. I should’ve left when I had the chance.
- Oh gawd, the writing was so seamless and engaging, that I was too busy fuming at the girl to even remember I was supposed to be reviewing this work piece by piece. Blown away, Operative. Great writing for sure.

4. “With pleasure.”
- Does he look old enough to pass for her husband? Just relating it to Julia's early comment.


This is a case where the story reads so well it's hard to try to point out anything critical. I wouldn't review a new york times best selling novel for its grammar and spelling, so I'll just ocmment on the characters themselves.

It's quite hilarious that this clearly dangerous individual is suddenly cutting vegetables in a kitchen. How wanted to take pictures of Julia's predicament before coming in to help her was really indicative of how cold he was. ItÄ's the perfect wacky situation to happen to such a person, and I get some good Dexter flashbacks to that sort of thing. The Dexter novel, actually are fun reads and remind me of this sort of character.

As far as prologues go it feels more like a complete start of the story rather than a set up to the actual plot at hand. I imagine detective Stromberg will go on the scene.

I can't imagine how foolish Julia would have to be to go out when it was so dark and dangerous, and though she was mugged she's held a chipper attitude about it all. It's hard not to think of her as an anime like dunce, otherwise it seems quite strange.

Really rich language and descriptions. It seems there's a story here that you're taking your time to let unfold rather than just jumping to the juicy bits. Great work.

Geh. The woman being unsatisfied with the grumpy husband and then unsatisfied with the romantic makes me want to tear my hair in frustration... My word...

Great writing, Operative!

Offline Fortis Scriptor

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Re: Serial Deviance
« Reply #6 on: March 09, 2017, 04:41:47 AM »
Ah Serial Deviance, a story that has made me both laugh my ass off and shiver.

Spoiler
Our hero "Frank" is a sinister evil genius who has sadly found himself tangled up with the equally evil genius, Julia Stromberg a manipulative teenage girl who has Frank by the balls.

What made me laugh? Watching Frank get dragged around by Julia like an unhappy dog on a leash.

What made me shiver? The fact that Frank being the "Hunter" that he is, and Julia that Julia continually tries his patience. Could lead to Frank giving into the allure of Julia's... voluptuous figure and "devouring" her.

The story itself is well written in present tense and from a first person perspective, always a solid combo. While it needs a bit of minor basic BS editing it's good so far and I look forward to reading more.

PS I'm sorry I'm so late to post this, I am a shameful disgrace. *Commits seppuku* "Ah, I really should have remembered to bring a friend so he could chop off my head and end my suffering considering my entrails are falling out and I'm in an intolerable amount of pain... Oh well it's what I get for being so late." *Screams in agony while holding intestines in hands*