《Macabre Mim》Chapter 8: Mercy
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The slightly dull razor dropped lazily from my fingers. Covered, for the very first time, in blood that was not my own. It fell against the sheets, creating ripples in the deep, red pool that seemed to grow and grow across the bed. And, for the first time that I could remember, I laughed.
The corpse turned out to be more useful in death than it ever had been before in life. Well, it wasn't a corpse yet, really, but for all the fight left in it, it may as well have been. I lay next to the body, my head propped up against my arm on the right so that I could watch the last of the bright red liquid spurt out of his gaping neck. My other hand shuffled purposefully through his wallet, claiming the solid brass key that was to become my freedom, whilst still likewise sorting through the mess of gold and silver. The old bastard owed me, after all. And I wasn't in a generous mood. No, no. I wasn't in a generous mood at all. I waited until he was fully dead, noticing how the nameplate winked out beside his head before I got up and stripped off my chains. Feeling the blissful cool of air against my ankles for the first time in a very long time. As I stretched, a status window opened in front of me, this time with a merry tune in minor and some small amount of fanfare: Congratulations! Level Up! "Soul Level 2!" New Traits Unlocked! Enhanced... I quickly waived the status text away without reading it. Right now, it wasn't what I was interested in. Not really. Instead, I took Mr. Arrol's clothes off of his cooling body, and I wiped them off as thoroughly as I could across the quilt. They hung loosely on me, but that wasn't a problem. Or at least it wouldn't be. Very soon. I picked up the long-sword that he had left by the door and hefted it gently. It was heavy, but even still it was sharp, and I decided that it felt good in my hand. At least for the time being. Indeed, using it's long blade I sliced a thin cut across my palm and let my blood dribble across the corpse's lips. Splash. Splash. Splash. And I there waited, smiling, hovering over the cool body and wet sheet. I waited the ten full minutes, savoring every second, as I rested the sword against the descended stomach. I waited and I waited and I waited. It was too much, really, when the corpse once blinked up at me. Too sweet and too beautifully for me to hold back for one second more. I laughed, oh I laughed, as the blade bit into his stomach, ensuring that I skewered intestines and liver and kidney all. I laughed at the look in his eyes, of terror and relief, to find himself once again whole and alive, only to widen and widen as he felt the sword so smoothly inserted into his warming guts. I picked up the razor, wiping it off absently against his thigh, before reaching between his legs and continuing my work. Snip, snip, snip. Spurting arteries and horrific screams far too quickly began to lessen. And I, once more, waved away some flashing bit of status text that tried to spoil my view of the blossoming artwork beneath me. He tugged futilely on the chains, now entrapping his ankles, his feet, as his arms waved pathetically above. Pinned down with the rest of his body by his own sword and its sharp bite, buried deeply in the mattress and the frame of the bed. I went ahead and pocketed his man-parts for later. There was more experimentation to be done, after all. And I had all the time in the world to play. Indeed, I let him watch as I carefully wrapped my features in the form of his own before I turned away. And I took pleasure as the poor old man, Mr. Level 2 himself, took his last breaths. His life bleeding away it's last few resurrected drops while he stared deeply, helplessly, into his own eyes. Hearing his own cruel laughter follow him into the abyss. Ignoring his now useless corpse, I used the little deskside mirror as a measure to refine my creation. Perfecting every little detail until I had it just, just right. As I turned to the door, another status message popped up in front of me. This one I read quickly, waving absently toward a 'Yes' as I departed the room: You appear to have disguised yourself as one 'Arrol Vendetta'. Would you like to disguise your nameplate as well? (Difficulty level 6: Deception 4, +2 Charisma) Yes/No
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