⇀ frankenstein ↽ 『dagda / jaejin』
the first time dagda felt another’s blood on his skin and the weight of their death on his shoulders, he was unsure of how to react. his programming had disengaged him from the human emotions of guilt and revulsion - things he was sure most would feel when they commited a murder. you could compare him to a psychopath, a mindless monster playing god, but after all, it wasn’t him per-say who was doing these things.
in the end, the one pulling the puppet strings was always his owner.
dagda finds they are always the same - man or woman, young or old, strong or weak - when he comes calling they always fall before him. he wouldn’t necessarily says he enjoys it, but when his fingers wrap around their throats and squeeze the essence of their life out of them, he can’t help but smile. he does not feel the rush of the kill, as humans describe it, but he still feels the power over another course through his veins, and that’s enough for him to feel satisfied.
this one is no different - in the shadows of the alleyway, the woman struggles beneath him as his hand grips a fistful of her hair, wrenching her head back as his dark stare meets the panicked whites of her eyes. arms pinned beneath his legs, she opens her mouth to scream, but his fingers wrap underneath her jaw, shutting it tightly as he lets out a dry laugh at her pathetic attempt at crying for help. too strong for her to push off of him, dagda watches in curious amusement as the woman struggles to get away, her body thrashing violently as she tries to shake him off. he allows the lie of her hope in escaping to go on for a few moments more before he dips his head down and presses his lips against her ear, his hold strong on her as he listens to the whimpers fighting to escape her bloody lips. “it wouldn’t be in your best interest to fight back dear, don’t want you hurting yourself now do you?” dagda’s voice is cold and monotone, a hint of teasing evident within his tone. dragging the hand holding her jaw back a bit, his nails dig into her skin, blood welling beneath his fingertips and dripping across her honey-toned skin. his teeth shine in the gloom, a predatory grin donning his face as his dark gaze soaks up the scene in front of him. but then he makes a mistake - his focus devoids for a brief moment, his grip loosening ever slightly, and the woman’s shoulder flings upwards to knock into his chin. the force of the blow sends his head back and he grunts in surprise, her form wriggling out from under him and barely managing to escape his grasp before his hands whip out with inhuman speed. a terrified scream erupts momentarily from her lips, her nails raking down his face with ferocity, before a sickening crack is heard and the area falls silent once more. dagda closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath although he has no use for the oxygen, before he looks down at the scene before him. the woman’s corpse, lifeless and cold, lies in a puddle not too far from him, her limbs astray and spread out from each other. her head is bent at a horrifying angle - the neck having been snapped in an L-shape and her face turned completely backwards. dagda supposes he could have torn her head off with a bit more force - something more overboard than he would have liked, although imagining the look on the face of the policeman who would find her makes him wish he did it all the same. lingering his gaze on the woman for a little while longer, he finally decides to clean up and depart the scene, stepping forward and gathering the corpse in his arms as he drags her to a pile of garbage off in the dark. the murder itself was supposed to send a statement to the people of the area, as requested by his owner, so dagda does not hide her away as he usually does. like a designer working on a fashion model, the android takes his time in positioning every body part and detail to his liking - legs bent to the side, torso stuffed in the corner, the corpse’s horror-stricken face and empty eyes staring out into the alleyway - even her hair is ruffled to cause a more rough appearance. when he is finished dagda considers it an art piece, although of the more bloody counterpart. his expression is blank as he crouches and observes every change in appearance, although on the inside he could say he feels proud in some sort of sickening way.
he’s about to stand up and leave, when he hears it.
dagda’s ears are alert as he hears quick footsteps echoing in the alley, his systems judging them to be not too far off although not far away either. eyes alert as he twists his head to look behind him, his hand jumps to the inside of his jacket, fingers wrapping around the pistol hidden within the folds of the fabric. in the time it takes for him to do this, his processor has already reviewed every possible choice of what he can do, and there aren’t many. dagda can risk running, possibly being seen by whoever it is walking towards him, and try and escape without them following, but can also stay and face the opposer. the android is sure that his owner wouldn’t mind another death adding to the night, and although he knows the crime lord would prefer a quiet death to be the most ideal, dagda believes it wouldn’t be detrimental for the use of his pistol in the current situation.
he has made his decision.
withdrawing his hand from the weapon but keeping the jacket open for a quick retrieval, dagda slowly stands and turns his body to face the entrance to the alleyway. through the darkness of the night, he can barely make out the approaching figure of another, his sensors taking in whatever details he can in the moment as he waits for them to make their presence known.
what he doesn’t expect is who they are.