Where: behind Kitty's Jazz Club
When: Feb 1997
With: NPC - Weiss sent thugs
Despite the number of people he pissed off, Dom rarely had to worry about casual hits with 'work' related issues. Maybe it was his position, maybe it was his size, but he never really felt the need to look over his shoulder. Even now, as he loitered in the back alley of Kitty's, his posture remained casual, leg propped against the wall, cigarette lazily hanging from his lips.
Cool night air pressed against his chest, dim amber light that flickered a few feet away, dirty pools sat in small clusters along the pavement. It had been quiet, the only disturbances being servers and lowly staff carrying trash out the back door, the music blaring as it swelled and shut, the occasional drunks laughing too loud as they passed on the main street. There was an odd sense of waiting, of expectance that kept him compliantly in place. He had smoked through a few cigarettes, the number not having been kept track of. That stupid fuck had to come out sometime. But when footsteps approached, it wasn't from the door he had been watching; it was from the main street and it was too many.
Five dark figures blocked the gap between buildings, shadows cast infront of them from the busy lights of the main strip. The only identification was the grim features that appeared from the flickering infront of them. Ah fuck.
He could tell by their posture, the way their arms hung behind their backs, the stillness as they measured him; they were either about to attempt to jump him or rob him. Either wasn't ideal. The number of them caused concern. He was confident in his size, his skills, his ability to crack skulls without weapons. Three guys, easy. Five though....that was going to be closer. And that wasn't considering whatever knives they likely kept hidden up their jacket sleeves.
The cigarette left his lips in a quick flick, the bud giving a quiet sizzle as it landed in one of the muddy divets infront of him. With a swift push of his leg, he was off the wall, his knuckles automatically clenching into fists at his sides. He kept his posture loose, calm as he took a few steps closer. He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by the swinging of a crowbar.
Dominic raised his clenched fist, opening it and grabbing the steel between now burning fingers. He could feel the fire spread through his palm, up his forearm, aching in his elbow. He could feel atleast two fingers break.He gritted his teeth and tossed the weapon to the side, the man connected to it stumbling in attempts to hold on. The other 4 quickly advanced. Dominic could feel his pulse rise, his lips curling back into a cruel smile as he prepared for more weapons. One of the thugs came at his face with a fist that Dominic dodged with ease, another kicking at his knee. He couldn't block both and his knee buckled for a moment under the pressure. Dominic, rage curdling in his bones, swung his fist wide, cracking the fist fighter across the jaw. He fell, not unconscious but subdued for the moment. The fourth guy came from behind them, baseball bat in hand as he swung for Dom's head. It missed, cracking against Dominic's shoulder. He stumbled back, hand instinctively going to clutch the wound. Five, with weapons, was definitely too many.
Retreating wasn't an option, though. He released his shoulder and punched the guy infront of him right in the center stomach. He did his own stumble, taking three steps back. There was no retreating this, not that he wanted to. He would rather get his ass kicked with dignity. He wasn't about to be known for cowarding.
A hard crack filled his ears as the crowbar pressed into the back of his skull. Lightnight errupted through his brain as he fell to his knees, head dangling infront of him. Dom could hear the weapons fall, clatter to the stone beneath him as two of them pinned his arms behind his back, the other two circling him as if to evaluate his condition. Head still bowed he smiled up at them, his eyes wild with menace. His reward, a swift kick to the face.
Blood poured from his mouth, his smile now red and dripping as he held it in place. "Really, it takes five of you?" He taunted. Another blow landed on his ribs and he could feel those crack as well. That was going to suck. And then another, a punch to the face that crunched his nose into multiple pieces. his face was now more blood than skin. He spit it at the closest man's shoes. Irritation clearly filled him as he let go of Dom's arm, his foot pulling back to land another kick. Within seconds, all five of them were kicking the shit out of him simultaneously. Dominic tried to swing, his arms wild as he grabbed at ankles, managing to pull one man to the ground with him. In a panic, the thug crawled backwards out of reach and scrambled up.
As if a signal had been made, one Dominic couldn't see through the red sea that was his vision; they all backed up more than three feet, still trapping him in a circle. "Cicero says keep your paws to yourself." Venom filled the words. The returning fight clearly struck a nerve. He imagined it was the scrawny fuck, the one who took the most damage. From a direction, he couldn't quite pin, something light hit his chest. "We're watching you." Without another word, they retreated.
By the time Dominic cleared his vision they were rounding the corner back onto the main street. He spit again, blood coating the item thrown at him in their retreat. A white rose. "Mother fucker." He picked it up, turned it in his hands as he pulled himself back to his feet. He had a message to deliver, he supposed. Another wipe of his face with his arm, a crack of his neck and he dragged himself from the Alley to head to the Vitelli estate.
Trigger Warning;
- minor/major injures (descriptive)
- violence
- major character death
Character(s);
- Original Male Character (Just a random dude)
- Psychopath!Bedbanana (Referred as Tanner)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479043
A violent swing to someone's neck was all that Tanner needed right now. The sweet release of destructiveness from having blood spilled all over the floor or on his hands was a great need as his stress was all under his skin, crawling at his throat and emotions with the feel of irritation and frustration bottling up in his chest.
It was a night that didn’t go as planned. Everything seemed to crash on top of Tanner’s head, making him work harder and harder until his breaking point. He needed something to calm down. Whether or not he could take the easy way by just working out in the gym, go outside for a jog, play video games, or talk with friends, but he thought the sight of blood being smeared on a knife or bat was his only option.
It hadn't just started with a bloody site in his living room, he was a busy man even before the violent outcome he's done. He had errands to finish, a book to read and a song from Andrew's playlist to listen on repeat, but of course that all cut short when madness spewed inside his brain, letting in a psycho, crazy feeling to Tanner's day.
He managed to finally tick, his vision being blurred with redness and his hands had a mind of their own. He wasn't in-control of his body. The amount of pure hatred and vicious thoughts that ran into his head was abnormal for the guy. Even if playing games had made him play that part of a crazy killer, it never really meant he wanted to do harm to other people. Yet, he was bloodthirsty. A man who wanted to see blood spilled upon his hands.
His first victim was someone he spotted at a bar he went to, seeing as it was the easiest to approach someone and catch them off guard in a busy environment. It took some patience, but with steady conversations and Tanner’s charming looks being easily portrayed towards the boy, which had told him his name; Quentin, was one of his deadly ways of letting the other trust Tanner.
With a slip of some powdered substance that he spilled in the others drink when he had turned away to watch a dancer, he finally got his victim.
All it was now, for Tanner to convince the drugged victim to come to his house. It was easy, since the man’s head was all clouded within seconds of nonsense and the feeling of being extremely intoxicated was especially overtaking the boy.
Tanner raised the mask that hid his identity when Quentin began growing conscious from the substance that Tanner had slipped into the man's drink at the bar. He had a wide, twisted smirk laying on his lips, hidden away from his hostage when the man finally focused on Tanner with his eyes quickly widening. The mask was handmade by one of his trusty friends. It was a cat mask, almost like his icon everyone sees on his social media but more so in a Japanese-esc style.
“O-oh, God.. What’s happening? Who are you!?”
The other was shaking like a frightened puppy in a thunderstorm almost instantly, his voice was high with fear as his eyes roamed around the room and back at Tanner, though not before a quick glance down to Tanner’s weapon in his hand.
Tanner didn’t say anything, only standing there with the bat lifting and falling into the palm of his other hand, in a threatening but also fun manner. His eyes were filled with anticipation for what was going to happen.
The amount of blood he’ll be seeing and the sound of a cracking skull was thrilling to him that he couldn’t wait, but… at first, he wanted to tease the hostage, just for a little bit.
He approached Quentin in the chair, which of course got him riling up, he kept pleading towards Tanner, wanting him to spare his life even if it was too late to say that. Tanner already caught him, like a fly in a spider’s web, and even if he managed to get his sanity back, he still wouldn’t let Quentin go.
That’s risky.
Tanner stopped playing with the bat, pushing it out of his other hand’s palm and raised it, getting a reaction from Quentin as he flinched and whimpered, though Tanner didn’t dare hit him yet. He put down the baseball bat against the chair that Quentin was trapped in.
Instead, Tanner moved to grab a cloth that was lying on the floor. Before he would abuse the boy, he needed to shut him up. He didn’t want his neighbours hearing the commotion of screams in his house, so he wrapped the cloth around Quentin’s mouth, acting as a gag.
Before he could even wrap the piece of cloth around the boy’s face, he tried biting Tanner’s fingers.
“Ow-ah, hey! Now, now, Quentin… that’s not very nice,”
Tanner chuckled under the mask he wore, ruffling the others hair before forcing the others head back with him pulling at the blond locks, and stuffing the cloth into Quentin’s mouth.
He accidentally pushed too far since Quentin gagged, making Tanner pull back.
"Oh, so sorry, baby~ didn’t mean to do that. Not yet at least."
As if Tanner wanted to go easy on the poor lad. Even if what Tanner had heard from the bar about Quentin's life, he seemed like a chill guy, maybe too chill, but that didn't matter anymore.
Quentin whimpered into the cloth that was balled up in his mouth.
"Okay… Don't you dare spit that out, you fucking got it?" He threatened with a finger pointing at Quentin, close to his face and wiggling, "you don't want to make me angry, do you?"
There was no response from the boy, other than a teardrop going down his cheek and a muffled sob being heard.
That's all what Tanner wanted. To see someone scared out of their mind for their life. It was riling him up that the pressure of finally seeing bloodshed was rising up too much, he was basically bouncing up and down.
Going back over to his coffee table where lied multiple objects such as knives and some brass knuckles that he stole from his friend, Jared's place. Tanner hummed a song, a happy, child-like song that made his toe tap on the wooden floor as he contemplated on what weapon he wanted to use. Eventually, he grabbed a small kitchen knife, one to use for cutting steak. A chuckle was heard from Tanner as he raised the sharp object to his peripheral view and began walking back towards his hostage.
That's when Quentin started squirming in the chair. With all his might, he tried escaping his abuser, though the ropes that hugged his wrists, chest and legs were tightly tied, so tight that the ropes were almost able to cut circulation.
Tanner waved the knife in front of his victim, glistening from his lamp shining against the sharp point of the weapon.
He went closer to Quentin's skin, the tip dipping slightly into his cheek as he gently scraped the edge of the knife down the boys face, down to his neck and chest. It wasn't pushed far enough to make Quentin bleed, only to rattle the other.
“ You are so pretty, Quentin… Too bad I’ll have to torture you.”
The steak knife finally punctured through skin at the edge of his torso, on his side just below the ribs, the first layer being broken and the blood cells trying to protect the open wound but spewing out of the indented cut mark. Tanner noticed the instant shock that Quentin went through, his face turning pale as a ghost and his eyes becoming red with hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto his chest. A sharp, muffled scream escaping his throat from the throbbing sensation of having a knife being inside him.
A chuckle was breathed out and Tanner lifted up the knife, only to drag it to a different spot, this time, the blade’s tip cutting through until he found a good spot to forcefully prick the knife into the other side. It was a rough impact, more blood dripping out and fully covering Tanner’s weapon.
Cries were the only sounds in the room, which started to bother Tanner, pulling out his knife and threatening at Quentin’s Adam's apple, an animistic growl coming out of his mouth.
“Oh my god, can’t you just stay quiet? You’re so annoying with your fucking crying and shit …” He muttered under gritted teeth, “ Fuck. Here, hold onto this,” and with that, Tanner placed the knife into Quentin’s leg, letting it pierce through the tough layers and letting it stick out without him holding it, even though he did demand him to do so.. The other screamed, his face turning now greenish, becoming sick from the pain and his bloody sides and leg.
Tanner walked away from his hostage, his back away from the other for a few minutes as he went to his home speaker, his phone being clicked into the aux cord so he could blast some music out-loud, only to drown out Quentin's annoying, girlish, screams. Oh! He almost forgot, he needed to listen to Andrew's new playlist. Guess now is the best time for it, so with going into Spotify and clicking on the saved playlist, he shuffled it, letting whatever was the first song to automatically play. Knowing the classic rock song that was playing, he hummed to the beat, his gaze becoming more narrow as he looked over at his victim, seeing the mess of his facial expression. He was already losing conscious. Wow, what a weakling.
Before he even approached Quentin again, he went back to the coffee table, picking out a bigger weapon than the steak knife, as the little, sharp, object wasn't really pleasing him as much. Fingers dancing along the blade's sharper side. This was all fun and games, his grin was wide, cheeky and malicious.
Cutting closer to Quentin again, he kept the knife in his leg, letting it stick there.
"Wow! What a good boy you are, you didn't drop the knife!" He chirped excitedly, talking in a baby-like tone. His fingers walking from the machete and up to Quentin's hair, running his slender, soft fingers in the wavy locks before gripping at them again, "you better stay with me, dear, I'm not done messing with you yet."
A ghosting whine interrupted his hearing after the short song stopped and went on to queue up the next upcoming one. Tanner inched away from Quentin, his hand no longer on top of his head and the Kukri machete scraping against the boy's forearm, the long, slightly bent weapon managed to not scratch the bare arm, until Tan went down to the man's fingers, the broad tip, scratching Quentin's knuckles. Clearly, Quentin was clenching his hands into fists, but that certainly didn't stop Tanner from gripping with his other hand at the boy's fingers, letting them spread out on the chair's arm.
"Look at those finger's of yours..." He purred, his head tilting to the side in fake awe before he held onto the pinkie and slashed the digit off, a thump being heard as it fell to the floor, blood spraying and spewing out of the now missing finger, "too bad you're losing them~" and with that, Quentin gagged, threatening to throw up due to the amount of panic and pain going through his system, but he was weak. He had no strength anymore. He couldn't even cry. Tanner began cutting off the rest, starting over with the thumb and working back to the ring finger.
With nothing being on Quentin's right hand anymore, he continued to do the rest on the other hand, though, with Quentin fidgeting for the last time in awhile, urging him to stop, he grew irritated again, finally infuriating him to an extent and cutting the entire hand off. This made blood spill more blood spraying onto his already bloody shirt and mask. The red substance was everywhere now. A growing puddle forming under the chair that Quentin was strapped in.
Quentin was finally giving in, his eyes were white, rolling back, and turning lifeless, his face was pale as ever and his body now limping from the extended suffering he had to endure, but Tanner wasn't done. He wasn't complete yet. He still needed more blood. More blood to splatter everywhere.
"Jeez, hold tight for one more moment, Quentin."
Tanner rolled his eyes under his mask. This guy really couldn't last that long, but honestly, Tanner never really inquired to actually kidnap someone and torture them. It was his first.
The knife in Quentin's leg was finally pulled out, and it was certainly held in his leg for a really long time as it took a few tugs to have it free again, it was stiff and covered in disgusting substances, but that didn't stop him from abruptly slashing at his thorax, a bunch of stabbing marks being made at the middle of Quentin's chest, repeatedly being forced into his skin until his arms became tired and let the knife drop out of his hand and onto the floor.
A big exhale was made from Tanner, catching his breath for a quick second before finally reaching out for the bat that was knocked down due to the commotion of Quentin moving a lot. The bat had already been covered in gooey redness, the liquid dripping down and onto the gripper as Tanner lifted it up.
"You know ... It was nice meeting you, Quentin. You were such a fun guy. I hope you don't haunt my place though after I kill you."
He teased, though it didn't really get recognized by the other as he was already fading from existence.
So, it was finally time to end this. With Tanner raising the bat into a ready position that batter's go into to his ball, he swung the metal sports object at the other's head, instantly knocking out Quentin with a large thud at the cranium. A cracking sound finally blissfully filling Tanner's ears as he hit the now lifeless persons head again. And again. And Again...
After being out of breath, and bones sticking out of the boy's head, the brain being slightly shown on the side, he called it quits. Letting the bat down, with a tired sigh.
"Goodnight .. Quentin. " He muttered under his breath, his mask being lifted off of his face and placed on Quentin's lap, letting the bloody cat mask stay put there as he went over to the speaker once again, picking up his phone with bloody, dripping fingers as he dialed a number; a familial number.
"Hey! Lawlman, yeah, I have some cleaning I need you to help me with."
