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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Werewolf in Chicago Pt1: Something Wicked This Way Comes (rp1)
Author Message
Nathaniel Idenhaus Offline
Not a Nazi



XWF FanBase:
Hardcore, psycho fans

(cheered for breaking rules and bones; excessively violent; creative with weapons)


#1
04-12-2018, 08:05 AM




Cornelius Holland was a nervous sort of fellow. Yet, for some particular reason, on this night in question, he was even more on edge than usual. Every noise or slightest bump in the dark had him practically jumping right out of his own skin as he hugged his briefcase tight to his chest and walked to his car. Taking small, stiff steps the entire way. Mr. Holland was a high school biology teacher at Crowndale High, he had stayed late to grade some papers and the time seemed to just fly by. Now, with only his car remaining within the darkened parking lot, and this ever increasing sensation of dread repeatedly washing over him. Like the water crashing into a bluff on a stormy night. With a cold, clammy sweat coating his body after the wake of each wave's crash. He wished that he would've just gone home at the usual time and taken the papers with him. Pausing a second, Cornelius adjusted his spectacles and then reached into his pocket, pulling forth a cloth handkerchief, that he used to dab his brow. That's when a low, dense fog began to filter slowly onto the lot. It swirled and seethed, gradually becoming thicker as it swept forward. Encompassing all it touched, it enveloped both Mr. Holland and his car at a steady pace.

This of course skyrocketed Mr. Holland's anxiety through the roof... or rather, through the sky as he shoved his hand into his pocket once more. Fumbling around for a minute or two, he finally found what he was looking for and nervously yanked it from his pocket. A set of keys dangled, shaking in his uneasy hand as he pushed a button on a tiny device that was meant to unlock car doors. In an instant a soft, audible click was heard. Although, even more important than that, were the headlights that emitted a harsh glow onto the parking lot. Chasing away some of the shadows, they gave Cornelius at least a smidgen of comfort in his hour of twitchy need.

With a sigh, he placed the keys back into his pocket and continued forward, he only needed to make it another ten feet and he would be safe within his car's interior. To settle himself even further as he stiffly waddled forward; swiftly paced yet with each foot barely making it past the other as far as distance was concerned, he started singing. Softly at first, the tune would pick up within him and spike in volume, at the moment that he would feel a twang of fear. It was quite the sight to see actually. A four foot, eight inch, 150lbs man with dirty, blonde hair and wire rimmed glasses, clutching a worn brown leather briefcase tightly to the front of his beige suit jacket as he shuffled forward and sung to himself in a range that spiked like a heart monitor on someone that just snorted an eight ball of coke. He honestly resembled a crazy person. Picture it and attempt to say otherwise. It can't be done.

And that's when it happened.

SMASH!

One of the headlights on his car was shattered, the glass from it tinkling onto the concrete, eerie echos in a vacant parking lot. Mr. Holland stopped singing and froze. Someone was in front of his car. Not quite in the light of his car's remaining headlight but just beyond it. A shadowy shape that swiftly moved and changed position in a mocking sort of way. Perhaps, in the fashion that a predator, might use in order to hunt its prey. The outline was large. Larger than a man, its shaded silhouette took on the contour of some kind of animal. Although, it couldn't have been an animal, for it stood on two legs. Still, there was that low, rumble of a growl. Deep and baritone, like it was coming from the belly of a beast. Then suddenly...

CRASH!

In the time it would take someone to blink, the other headlight was fractured. Its glass pinging upon the pavement of the parking lot. Mr. Holland gasped out in fright as he was covered in darkness once more. He wasn't a man anymore at this moment. No. He was a skittish cat, freaking the fuck out. Trembling in the dark, he hugged his briefcase as hard as he could and started crying. He knew something terrible was about to happen and he couldn't do anything about it. He was going to die. At least that's what his brain kept yelling at him. Over and over again. It became a mantra of sorts. Weirdly enough, his mind's voice also sounded a lot like, Sam Kinison. With each shout bringing on even more tears and shaking, from the petrified biology teacher.

However, when the parking lot grew silent and nothing happened, a creeping hope for survival began to grow. All Mr. Holland had to do was make it inside his car and he would be safe. He could drive home and leave this terrifying parking lot in his car's dust. So that's what he would do his best to do! With a sudden surge of bravery, Cornelius Holland rushed forward, moving faster than he had in thirty years, he ran to his car and retrieved his keys. From there he shoved them into the lock and opened the door. Plopping down hard into the driver's seat, Mr. Holland slammed the car door shut, entered the keys into the ignition and started the car.

Success!

He made it!

Everything was going to be...

SMASH!

The window to the driver's side door was smashed to bits as a huge, hairy hand with claws reached through and ripped Mr. Holland from his vehicle. Then it lifted him up, towards the top of his car where the owner of the beastly hand was perched. In the darkness, Mr. Holland's blood curdling screams could be heard across the entire parking lot and most likely rang through the entire school. Too bad everything was deserted. So sad he was all alone. There was no one around to hear him shriek. To howl in immense agony and squeal as though he were a little piggie getting its guts and bowels torn out. Till the screaming gave way to silence and all the was left was the sound of human meat being shredded apart. Fragments and small chunks of flesh hitting the pavement with sick, little wet plops as the car was coated with blood. All sounds... that no one heard.

[Image: 2lwnq6b.jpg]

"I hope ya didn't eat a big breakfast, Idenhaus."

Nathaniel Adolph Zachary Idenhaus allowed his attention to drift up from the computer screen in front of him as two men in police uniforms pushed a gurney into the examination room. How the mighty have fallen. Once on an incredibly, impressive fast track to becoming a well decorated surgeon, Nathaniel suddenly found himself in a shit storm of controversy and his fast track became nothing but a dirt road, turned to mud. Mud that he almost immediately sank into as it quickly consumed both him and his budding career. However, that's what happens, when word gets out that you might be plotting mass genocide and world domination. When the government tries you for treason and crimes against both country and humanity. Even if you can afford the best lawyer in the world and the convictions don't stick, you never quite bounce back from that. No. The elastic of the situation was stretched far too thin and then of course there's always the reputation of everyone else to consider. What would people think? A very high-end, top-tier, first-class, superior hospital like Sacred Heart couldn't have Nazi surgeons running around, heiling all over the place. It was bad for business.

This left Nathaniel deposited within a rather difficult position. He needed to work and at the same time, he wouldn't simply take any old job. Not after everything he put forth in order to become a surgeon. They might have knocked him off his rising reputation pedestal of prestige and kicked him when he was down but he refused to leave the field in which he worked so hard to accomplish greatness. His efforts would not be in vain and a strong, pure blooded German like him, would never give up the fight, just because there was a little mud to trudge through.

Keeping that in mind, Nathaniel took the only job within the medical field that would both meet his desired pay grade and allow him to work without many questions. Working for the Cook County Medical Examiner's Office in Chicago, Illinois. It was a drastic change in things and he had to move but no one really knew him in Chicago and this job allowed him to continue to operate. Only now his patients were corpses and instead of fixing or mending them, he was cutting them up and doing autopsies to determine their death. It was fascinating work but still a drastic drop from what Nathaniel once was or could have most assuredly, become. That's the way the third reich crumbles though.

Good thing Nathaniel's dream was of the fourth.

That's right, Nathaniel still had his eyes on the prize. His ultimate goal. The future and fate, the one that he believed was destined to take place, with him at the forefront. Leader and ruler of a brand new order, free from flaw or error. Führer of the world, sovereign to the utopia of perfection and overlord of the master race. He still had that plan and the ideas to bring that agenda forward. He simply hit a road block. It didn't stop him or put out the fire that fueled his need to achieve his one true purpose in life. No, the objective was as clear as it had been from day one. Nathaniel was merely detoured for the time being.

This didn't throw him off course though. He knew the path to victory wasn't going to be easy. That's why only the strong and pure would be able to surmount the odds and stand tall, towering over all the fallen vermin and insufficient waste of the world. The ones that would have been broken if they had been in Nathaniel's shoes. Weaklings that would have crawled, crying into a corner. Where they would have stayed put till they keeled over and died. Rendered nothing more than pathetic husks, they would be brought to Nathaniel for him to uncover their cause of death. Why oh why, did this disgusting mongrel... this sack of fucking shit, give up, squirm into a corner and sit there until it fell over dead? What was the cause? To which Nathaniel would reply, without needing any tools or even a second glance towards the pathetic husk, "This thing was simply inadequate, it was bound to happen sooner or later." For Nathaniel though, this was a mere interlude between the past and what was yet to come. A pause at best and nothing more. However, he was a patient man and besides, all good things come to those that wait.

Nathaniel exited his office and entered the examination room as the officers transferred the black body bag from gurney to examination table. He reached out to unzip the bag but was quickly halted by one of the officers.

"Hang on. Rodolfo can't handle the sight of that. I won't make him endure it again."

With a smirk, Nathaniel waited and allowed Rodolfo to hurry from the room and then he resumed the task of unzipping the bag. The officer that remained, cleared his throat and turned his head to the side. Looks like Rodolfo, wasn't the only one that was squeamish. There was good reason too. Because within the bag there was a body that was torn to shreds. Ripped apart into chunks of human gore and pulpy flesh. Interesting. Hope the family didn't want an open casket.
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[-] The following 4 users Like Nathaniel Idenhaus's post:
(04-12-2018), (08-18-2018), Calum Jason (04-12-2018), Madison Dyson (04-12-2018)




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