⚠️Chapter 10: Past And Present (Part 2)⚠️

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A/N: And the gore and trauma continues!! ...along with some weird, fetishy domination from Killer, who KNOWS what goes through that psycho's head... oh wait. I do. I'm the author.

I have a favor to ask of you guys: PLEASE tell me what you think about Killer's portrayal here and if you think it's accurate. He's turning out to be really, REALLY dark, maybe even more so than Kid. So yeah, feedback is appreciated!

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Not many things surprised Killer. He liked to think he was called a soldier for a reason, naturally calm and cool-headed even when things went to absolute shit.

Now Loklynn, she surprised him. She WAS a surprise, a walking puzzle. Ever since they'd picked her up, it'd been one shock after another; her powers, those (Beautiful) wings, her missing memories, and her mysterious connection to Red-hair... He'd be lying if he said he wasn't entertained by her, so much so that he found himself grinning in her presence as he waited eagerly for whatever she'd do to wipe that grin off his face. It was kind of fucked how amused he was, considering that Loklynn herself was not only just as surprised with herself as they were, but also frightened, terrified of what she'd discover next.

But Killer was fucked.
The shoe fit, so he'd wear it.

And here he was with those same shoes covered in the guts of his latest victim, taking a moment to appreciate his little surprise.
He cradled her small head in his blood-soaked hand, stroking her cheek, admiring the warm splash of color on her pale, clammy skin as she shivered in her terror of him. Just like him, she had no idea what he'd do next; unlike her, he reveled in that fact, found that her fear tasted sweet.

"This isn't the best place to talk, is it... Not for you, anyway."

He stood and pulled upward on the nape of her neck, slowly, giving her enough time to follow his silent command; no pain, just the threat of it. He guided her back down the galley stairs, reluctantly leaving the sounds of battle outside to fade away behind them. He could pick out Kid's maniacal laughter above all the other noises; he didn't know if he'd rather be fighting by his side or down here with her, couldn't decide which was more fun.

When they arrived at the foot of the stairs, he left her three steps up while he stood at the bottom so that they were eye level for once without him having to bend. He found himself reluctant to relinquish his hold on her, so he kept his hand on the back of her thin neck.

"How did you break those cuffs? And dont," he stopped her by putting his thumb over her parting lips, "Say you don't know. I might have more patience than Kid, but that answer is getting old."

Apparently, it was the only answer she had, because her lips closed without a word as she tried to come up with something else to say. Killer ended up having to deduce the explanation for her.

"Another memory, huh?" He asked softly, watching her hesitant nod. "You've been having a lot of those lately. Strange, how all of them seem to be triggered by violence or fear; I'm looking forward to finding out just what happened to you, little thing."

He only had a split second to drink in the distantly horrified look on her face before a sound from above caught his attention. His eyes flicked up to the galley entrance. It was a scream, a familiar one. Then a shrieking giggle. Another scream. Another giggle.

"Mohican..." the soldier whispered grimly. He turned to the girl in his grasp, "Loklynn, I need you to go ba-"

And then he was flying, thrown backwards by some incredible percussive force before his back slammed into the wall opposite the stairs. He fell forward with a groan, catching himself on his hands and knees. Deja vu, he thought wryly. When he lifted his head, wouldn't you know it:

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