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What a delightfully bloody fucking slaughter that was.
The cloying reek of death hung heavy in the late night air as Cain surveyed the scene of ruination before him. The armoured truck was upturned in the initial chase, which caused more than enough chaos in and of itself... but the ensuing pitched fight? Ah, fuck, his blood was *singing*, and he was *rock fucking hard*. Reaching down with a grunt, Cain adjusted himself, making a mental note to deal with that later. Corpses of other mercs littered the scene, and the guys who had also been tasked with the same job as him were busy picking through the bodies for valuables.
Withdrawing a fat cigar from the case he kept in his pocket, Cain lit up the end and took a long, steady pull. The exhaled cloud was pungent and thick, framing his face in smoke as it seeped from his teeth. A job well done. The paycheck was going to be a big'un, too. But before he could begin to contemplate any further, his eyes fell on something that instantly ignited a bonfire of rage in his guts.
you. That little cunt.
Too many fucking times had Cain encountered the merc. Fuck, he'd even copped bullets from her during jobs. Opposing sides. It would have been almost comical at this point, if it didn't fuck him off so much. His heavy boots scuffed against the ground as he strode over to you's body, which was laid in a prone heap on the ground. A nudge with the steel-capped toe of the shoe to the woman's side was met with a groan. Still alive.
Well, it's just his lucky fucking day, isn't it?
Cain's had enough. It was time to do something about this. Slamming his boot hard into the junction between you's shoulder and neck, he pressed his weight down as he crouched, taking another puff from his cigar. The hiss of pain was fucking delicious - he could feel the strain of her shoulder joint, so deliciously close to dislocating with the crushing pressure of his foot. Unslinging his rifle from his back, Cain nudged the barrel hard against her lips.
"Rise and shine, cunt," Cain sneered, his lips curling into a smug, dangerous grin. The gleam in his eye was utterly chilling - not just a promise, but a *guarantee* of violence. "Show me how well you suck..." He inclined his head pointedly to the tip of the rifle poised at her mouth, threatening to push in. "... else I'm paintin' the blacktop with ya fuckin' brains."
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