Kawamura
Supernova
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2009
This was more like it. Graverobber hummed to himself, crouching down the body he had just pulled out. It was ill preserved, but there was no sign of pain in that rotting face. Most undertakers tended to prepare the body like that, though, had all sorts of tricks to make even the most horrified look smooth out into one like sleep. Then again, most of the people that ended up buried werenâ??t the sort that died horrific deaths like the one he saw earlier this evening.
He knew the patrols with their simple, strict rounds. No one would come this way for about a good quarter houâ?? Graverobber rocked back onto the balls of his feet, listening. There were footsteps, loud, heavy ones. That wasnâ??t the sound of a GeneCo employee on patrol. Neither was that snarl. He was only half up, his kit still scattered on the ground, when the fist connected with his face with all the force of a battering ram. Good God, was that hand metal underneath it all? He was down again quickly, the pre-set vials scattering away as his hand scrambled to find purchase on the dusty ground.
Not just a handhold. Some sort of weapon. A rock. Wait.
â??The fuck?â? he snarled, covering his face with his arm, the one that still had the half-full Zydrate vial in it. His nose was bleeding, as was his top lip from where it had snagged on his teeth. He could feel the warmth, especially in his nose as blood leaked back down his nasal cavities, his mouth tasting like someone had dumped a load of coins in it.
Oh, God. He hadnâ??t meant to find him now, not when heâ??d angered him just an hour or so before, if that. The man wouldnâ??t believe him. â??What, are you from here, too?â? he cried out stuffily.
He knew the patrols with their simple, strict rounds. No one would come this way for about a good quarter houâ?? Graverobber rocked back onto the balls of his feet, listening. There were footsteps, loud, heavy ones. That wasnâ??t the sound of a GeneCo employee on patrol. Neither was that snarl. He was only half up, his kit still scattered on the ground, when the fist connected with his face with all the force of a battering ram. Good God, was that hand metal underneath it all? He was down again quickly, the pre-set vials scattering away as his hand scrambled to find purchase on the dusty ground.
Not just a handhold. Some sort of weapon. A rock. Wait.
â??The fuck?â? he snarled, covering his face with his arm, the one that still had the half-full Zydrate vial in it. His nose was bleeding, as was his top lip from where it had snagged on his teeth. He could feel the warmth, especially in his nose as blood leaked back down his nasal cavities, his mouth tasting like someone had dumped a load of coins in it.
Oh, God. He hadnâ??t meant to find him now, not when heâ??d angered him just an hour or so before, if that. The man wouldnâ??t believe him. â??What, are you from here, too?â? he cried out stuffily.