2010-06-16: Blood Be Shed



Guest Starring:

Dennis and Amber

Date: June 16th, 2010


Young love…

"Blood Be Shed"

Brooklyn, NYC

A big old latch window, its glass foggy from age and splattered by paint, is pushed open toward the outside world. The lights of the city exist beyond; just a few streetlights and windows of the apartments and lofts just like this one, though the Brooklyn Bridge can be seen in the distance, just barely, leading to the sparkling lights of the island of Manhattan.

The air is warm tonight, but it's welcome, as it rushes lightly into the loft-space. A young man — twenty-two, maybe twenty-three and all limbs, moppy dark hair and artistically dorky glasses — steps back from the window and picks up a glass of pinot from the ledge.

The whole space is rather dim, with only a few garage sale lamps here and there, but it's filled with colorful things: tall, twirling metal sculpture, colorful portraits on giant canvasses, handmade vases boasting colorful metal flowers twisted into artful poses.

"I really have to finish that piece before tomorrow. But first— " The young man steps into the middle of the private art loft — the work studio — and lifts his glass in a toast. "To my successful gallery opening tonight which was as spectacular as my talent warrants…"

"Dennis…" A young lady's voice. The cherub-faced strawberry blonde in front of him tips her head to the side, all smiles but trying desperately to look stern.

"Okay okay — and happy one year anniversary, Amber."

The night may be warm, but there's at least one person in the world with cold-hearted murder on her mind. She's been watching this address for awhile - and others - and, unluckily for Dennis and Amber, she's picked this one for her next great attack. Her prerequisites? No one fabulously wealthy, no one important, no one well-known, but someone that people would notice gone if they just disappeared. After watching a series of housewives, industrial slaves, quasi-homeless teens and drunk old vagabonds, Mandy determined that this place was, by far, the best place to strike. After all, when the art show starts, someone will find the bodies. And the message.

Appearing outside the window, the dark-haired woman seems to be standing on the ledge, but taking a second look will reveal that she's beyond that, standing on what seems to be thin air. "Hope you saved some of that booze for me. I'm sure I'll need it when I'm done here." Smiling, she steps onto the ledge.

The all-smiles blonde has just touched her glass to her boyfriend's with a little clink and is stepping in to cozy up warmly when both of them turn their heads and gasp in unison. The window is wide and tall enough to frame their surprise guest perfectly.

There is a bottle of wine on the window ledge, but Mandy isn't offered a glass.

"Who— oahh— " Dennis holds one hand up, wraps an arm around Amber and they both edge backwards clumsily. "How did you… what the hell?" Even these artists, with their great imaginations, can't think outside of the box quickly enough to understand the likes of a woman walking on air.

While Dennis just balks, staring behind his glasses, Amber speaks up. "What do you want?! Is it money?! Because— we don't have much! But I have… I have jewelry— "

Mandy just rolls her eyes. "Look, I could swear t' God and back that this is nothing personal, but you dim-wit dumbasses never believe me anyway. It's okay, I get it. What I do? Some people think it's as personal as you can get." Shrugging helplessly, she steps off the ledge with one leg, kicking the bottle of wine back out the window with her other. "Oops."

Her hands go into her pockets. "Anyway. You guys are kind of special. You've gotten to me, you know? Touched me right here." Briefly, her hand goes to her heart. "That's why I'm going to make sure you die together. It's the least I can do. I mean, I could make it painless, too, but that's just not my thing. And the cops love finding my victims with that look of horror on their faces."

She pokes at some of Dennis' artwork, a half-finished clay sculpture, and breaks off an arm. Or she thinks it's an arm. "I'm also doing this because I hate you fucking self-righteous abstract artists. What the hell is this crap, anyway? You think this is making a statement, like flinging elephant shit at a canvas, or spreading someone's entrails all over the floor?"

Amber gives a soft squeal of fright — but mostly, of realization of the woman's intentions — and drops her glass. The stem shatters and the wine spreads on the old loft floor around their feet. She attaches to the arm of her boyfriend and the young couple back up simultaneously again.

"I— it's okay, not everyone gets art— I mean, what I mean is, you can hate what you want," the artist babbles.

"Dennis— " the young woman pleads, as if he could do something. She flinches at the sight of Mandy, at the statue breaking. But it's her, the ltitle strawberry blonde who seems to put her rational hat on before Dennis. This woman did walk off of nothing into the studio, and there's that… look in here eye… but it's two against one, right? Amber lashes out to one of the tall abstract metal statues — a spiral of thin, metal ribbons with a particularly sharp tip — and brandishes it desperately like a weapon.

Mandy sighs. "Honey. I've been doing this for years. I'm a serial killer. You're a girl with a piece of metal shaped like shit. Put it down." It's always so frustrating with her marks try to fight back, and they usually do.

She's wearing a nice shirt, which she pulls up to reveal the rather large dagger tucked into a scabbard-like sheathe at her hip. "You ever throw a knife before?" She pulls it out. The blade is a sort of mottled rust-red colour. Odd for a knife, until one considers that the mottled colour is only there because the blade isn't clean. Taking it by the blade, she rests the pommel against her wrist, holding it so that Dennis and Amber can both see it clearly.

"It's all in the wrist. Takes just a little flick, and a good eye, and I could put this through your throat, or sever that huge artery in your thigh, or, hell, right in the stomach." There's a pause, and then, "This is where you run.""

They do.

The couple takes off like the hot-blooded, able-bodied, scared creatures they are. Amber doesn't just give up her artful weapon, though. No, she throws it with all her clumsy, but desperate, might before she and Dennis are scrambling to the door of the loft arm-in-arm, a blur of plaid (Dennis) and summery pink (Amber). They have to wind around art pieces on their way; a statue tips, and an easel falls over, a portrait of what looks like Amber's face crashing face-up.

The real Amber is a bit behind as Dennis reaches out for the door before he can even touch it.

One second passes. Two.

It's probably crossed their minds that there's only one knife and two of them, so only one can actually suffer from it. If there's one thing Mandy can't stand — Well, there's actually a lot of things that Mandy can't stand, but this thing is what's got her attention right now! Mister Dennis isn't even trying to save his girl!

Not that Mandy actually admires bravery.

Despite the falling art and blur of running lovebirds, the knife sinks right into Dennis' back with a sickening thud. Mandy aimed for the centre, with the intent to sever his spine. Makes it much harder for them to run away.

"Amber, if you open that door, you can rest assured that I will find you, and I will keep you alive for days before I end it. Don't."

The sound of Amber's shriek and the thud of Dennis to the floor happen almost at once; one is as loud as the other. He's still alive, down there, but a twist to his spine as he struggles against the floor causes him to jolt and…

Amber can't look. The young woman — crying, now, and who could blame her — finds herself facing Mandy again, backpedaling toward the door. She seems caught by what the killer says, thrown into indecision, and then of course there's Dennis, and how could she leave him?! Round eyes blinking, the conflict's all over the girl's face. One, two, three…

She bolts, grappling with the door to try to fling herself into the short hallway outside. It's just down the hall and down some stairs. Maybe she'll get away after all. If she can call the police, they'll protect her from the psycho!

Mandy sighs yet again. Now she's going to have to chase the girl down and really make her suffer. It just takes so much time. Closing the door softly, she says, "Looks like it's just you and me, Dennis."

Reaching down, she gives the knife a twist, before pulling it out.


The art show the next night is mostly attended by the people that Dennis knew. After waiting outside for nearly a half hour past the start date, one of them thought to try the door to his studio. Not only did they find that unlocked, but they found the grisley scene from the night before.

The artist, impaled upon one of his larger metal sculptures and very dead, had a horrified look frozen on his face. On the floor was written a verse: 'Ye have multiplied your slain in this city, and ye have filled the streets thereof with the slain. - Ezekiel 11:6.' On the ceiling was written another: 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. - Genesis 9:6' Police, needless to say, were quickly called to the scene.

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