Crimson KissSlam. The boys body fell to the pavement with a thud. He groaned, pulling himself off the grimy sidewalk as he half-heartedly gestured at the bouncer whod thrown him from the bar. His vision swam violently as he attempted to walk, now thoroughly drunk. Clambering loudly through the silent midnight streets, his long, threadbare trench coat swaying in the howling autumn wind, the boy ducked into a dark alley- maybe hed be able to find an almost-stable fire escape to sleep on tonight.But the boy stopped dead.In front of him stood a man, tall and menacing and ethereally pale, who looked as though he was locked in a passionate moment with the young woman beside him. The boy gasped loudly, however, when he saw the thin stream of blood dripping from the womans neck. At this sound, the intimidating figure turned, dropping the girls body unceremoniously onto a pile of trash.The boy cried- a quiet, strangled sound. He couldnt move- The mans wi
Words That We Couldn't SayWords That We Couldn't SayVicious' long fingers wrapped around the neck of the vodka bottle, bringing it to his pale lips for another swig. He was dimly aware of his surroundings, that he was laying half-frozen on a moth-eaten bed in some slummy motel. The icy Callistan wind bit brutally from the open window, but Vicious didn't care. Didn't care if he died, alone, in this rat-infested hell hole. In fact he hoped for it.He took another swig.The syndicate had disbanded. The organization he'd pledged his life to was gone. Gone, in an instant. In a blink of an eye, the past fifteen years of his life meant nothing. There was nothing left for him now.He took another swig.Vicious didn't really know why he came to Callisto. He'd driven here on emotional autopilot after he'd gotten the news of the Syndicate. He dimly supposed it was because the last time he was here was the last time he'd actually felt.GrenůVicious grimaced. That name brought up feelings better left unsaid.