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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Leap of Faith III
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Trust me, I'm a murderer
Author Message
Dillinger Offline
I am total chaos. Strange and abstruse.



XWF FanBase:
Some men, some teens, few women

(the villain you love to hate; has cult following)


#1
07-17-2016, 01:41 AM

It's been two weeks since Dillinger became the owner of his dearly departed grandfather's estate and took up residency there and already the change of scenery has made a huge difference. When Dillinger lived in the city, the majority of the business that he conducted there was usually taken care of at night, he never went out until after daylight and the company he kept reflected that. Now, he was out and about during the day and the woman that he was currently spending some quality time with, was a nice church going, all american, sweetheart. An avid motorist that; as luck would have it, got stranded by the side of the road when her car sputtered to a sudden halt. Unable to find a source to her motor vehicle troubles, she ventured down a secluded path and the rest was history. The damsel in distress went from requiring the simple use of a telephone; in order to summon the aid of a tow truck, to spending the evening with the always dashing and ever charming, Dillinger D'Marco. There was dinner, a little wine, some music and of course an unbelievable view of the stars. The whole night was magical and before she knew it, she was hooked.

As in, the next thing that she realized; after coming to from being unconscious for an undetermined amount of time, was that she was hanging from a hook. A large meat hook to be exact. Slid up through her belt and the backside of her shirt. Which were both crafted well enough to support her weight during the length of her stay. That's right, while Dillinger had a proper night's rest, in a bed that probably cost the sum of a full down payment on the average man's two bedroom, one bathroom, Tudor style, dream home... the all-american sweetheart swung from a hook in his basement. Then, after a nice breakfast and a quick read through of the morning newspaper, the screaming started and Dillinger knew it was time to begin. Begin what? Well that remains to be seen. As for the remainder of what had been done, Dillinger moved his guest from hook to crate, with ease and then used a handy dolly to wheel the crate to the orchard. Yes, there was an orchard on his property, very lush and green and by this time, this fall, it would be full of delicious apples, ready for the picking. Till then; however, they were merely a tidy group of trees producing oxygen. Pretty to look at but not really serving their main purpose yet. Which was an excellent metaphor for this scenario. At least Dillinger thought so as he tapped the wooden crate with a large throwing ax.

What?

Was this not the difference you anticipated?

Dillinger was spending time outside, during the day and this morning he had a whole half of a grapefruit with his breakfast. Which meant he was eating healthier. Plus, he did a few stretches in preparation for this and he used a metal polish on his throwing ax, that was more environmentally sound than his usual brand. These were major alterations for him. Dillinger was really making strides in the direction of improving himself. Sure, he had his unconventional hobbies but who doesn't have a weird side? Admittedly or not, everyone had their quirks and guilty pleasures and Dillinger was simply embracing his. It's important to accept yourself, no matter what. For only then can you achieve true life fulfillment and happiness.

"Oh god, please don't kill me."

The woman pleaded through the wooden slates in the crate. Tears streaming down her face, her hair an utter mess and sweat accumulating on every inch of her well toned form. It was a warm day, after all and being stored in a crate with very little ventilation, for even a small amount of time, was bound to get a body balmy. The now frantic and extremely frightened woman only hoped and prayed this wasn't how her life would end. Wheezing and coughing, she fought an actual battle to breathe, her panic induced hyperventilation attack taking control of her as she desperately pounded her fist against the wood interior of her prison. Naturally, Dillinger could hear all of this going on through the other side of the crate and it brought a smile to his face. Some people were so predictable.

"I'm not a god but thanks for the compliment."

He chuckled.

"P-p-please... don't kill me."

Her voice was weak, frail and laden with desperation as she choked out her words.

"Aww... don't fret my pet, there's a decent chance you won't die."

Dillinger unlatched the crate and threw back its top, allowing the heavy lid to crash against its side and then hang open as he stared down at the woman.

"It all depends on how fast you can run."

Slowly, the huddled mass of a female, began to uncurl and she rose to her feet. With eyes quickly dropping to the rope that bound her wrists tightly together, she watched as Dillinger sliced through it with his ax.

"W-w-what?"

She stammered while a look of confusion crossed her face. She didn't understand. Barely fazed, Dillinger stepped back as he used his ax to gesture out towards the open land in front of them.

"You have to run and your survival depends on how fast you can run. You see, after you start running, I'm going to throw my ax. It's sharp... very sharp, I sharpen it daily and I'm incredibly precise with my aim but if you're quick, I mean lightening quick, it won't kill you. Why? Because you'll be too fast for it to hit ya! You'll outrun my throwing range and from there, you'll certainly make it to freedom. So speed equals life. Got it?"

She felt herself nod as she stood on wobbly legs, blinking in the mid-morning sun, she gradually took everything in. Was he serious?

Ring! Ring!

Dillinger's cell phone broke the growing silence. With that exact sound. Literally. It was heard precisely how it would look if it were awkwardly written within a short story in an attempt at an obvious interruption during a dramatic or uncomfortable scene. In fact, it even sounded like someone saying the words "Ring! Ring!", in a loud, exclaiming manner. There was nothing electronic about the nature of it at all. It was weird. Yet, without a flinch in his demeanor, Dillinger retrieved his phone and answered the call.

"Hello and good morning, Steve Sayors!"

"Eh, hello and good morning, Dillinger. I was wondering if you had a free moment today?"

"A free moment? Hmmm... I don't know, I'm not completely sure what the details of my schedule look like for today."

Dillinger turned his back to the woman in the crate, while he used the dull side of the ax to scratch his back. Was this really happening, the fearful girl pondered as she used the edge of the crate to hoist herself up. Clambering out to "freedom" she promptly tumbled into a heap within the grass surrounding the crate and froze. Her eyes quickly glued to Dillinger as he continued to face in the opposite direction.

"When would you like to meet?"

"This afternoon, if that's feasible?"

This was her chance, it was now or never. She ran. Jumping to her feet in a flash, she sprinted across the orchard as fast as she could. Her arms frantically pumping at her sides while she leapt and bounded over rocks and fallen branches. She didn't bother to look back. Not once. She just fucking ran!

"Hang on a second, Steve."

Dillinger dropped the phone and turned towards the path of the fleeing girl, squinting as he raised his now free hand to shield his eyes from the sun, he tilted his head and seemed to wait for a second. Watching as the distance continued to grow between them, he sighed and threw the ax. Over and over again, the ax tumbled as it flew through the air. Whirling majestically. Until it stopped. The absurdly sharpened blade sinking into the middle of her back. It was a direct hit. She never saw it coming. Dillinger retrieved his phone and began walking in her direction as she stumbled forward, gasped and dropped to the ground.

"This afternoon sounds fantastic, Steve."

"Great. Shall we conduct the interview at your place then?"

"Sure, come on over and check out the new pad. It's fuckin' awesome."

Dillinger paused and yanked the ax from the girl's back. Blood gushed from the gaping hole in her spine and trailed from the corners of her lips as she gurgled out a few incoherent words that either didn't make sense or simply couldn't be heard correctly, given her condition.

"The drive is a hassle but it's worth it."

With one swift chop, he sunk the ax into the woman's neck. Separating head from torso, in a single, fluent, clean swing. Very efficient. Dillinger punted the severed head across the orchard as blood instantly spurted from the body's gaping neck hole, like water from a freshly opened fire hydrant.

"Trust me."

The severed head smacked into a tree and fell to the ground with a sick, wet thud. Forever frozen in death, the woman's wide, terrified eyes were cast to the clouds as a happy chipmunk hopped over and began nibbling on the bloody stump protruding from the base of her skull. Today was going to be a good day.


[Image: rTQMvmN.jpg]
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