His car was his pride and joy, sort of.
Granted, he cared more about his Innocent Devils than his vehicle, but Isaac funneled an absurd amount of his hard-earned (lol) money into making his little outdated Jeep Wrangler the most obnoxious vehicle this side of Europe. It was a horrific shade of cherry red, had weatherproof leather seats (great for preventing stains from human viscera, and so on!), and conveniently didn’t come with the back windows- he’d ordered those separately, but wouldn’t bother putting them on until the real cold rolled around.
After the shop had been locked up, the redhead strolled to the parking lot and flopped into the driver’s seat with a lazy grunt, jamming his knuckles into the console radio until something classically obnoxious came on. His head craned backwards to pull the car out of the parking space, and with little warning, he veered toward the exit onto the main road.
Also, apparently, right into a fucking person. A raggedy looking brunette flopped lifelessly onto the front hood before sliding off like a fat load of birdshit into the pavement. Isaac laughed aloud, but cut the engine despite himself.
This sad someone was trying to cross onto the walkway, it seemed, and they’d been moving so slowly (or, not at all?) that the front of the Wrangler smashed into their unsuspecting body. It wouldn’t be right to leave the corpse in the roadway, so the least he could do was maybe drag it to the side.
Or take it home, cut it up, and turn it into something. Why not? He was a Forger, after all, and he was so out of practice.
So the redhead slipped from the car and wandered up to the body, peering at it with cold, bright eyes. The shape was vaguely masculine, but unkempt wild curls of hair and patchy bits of outdated clothing gave him pause in his profiling. Something wasn’t adding up- this wasn’t a human at all.
“Yoo-hoo,” A boot nudged the man’s leg. “-who did I have the pleasure of running over tonight?”
