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The trip to New Orleans had been uneventful in the worst way. Mackenzie had been sat between two people so undesired, she couldn't possibly rest. One smelled of barbecue and body odor, while the other tapped away on a keyboard for ninety percent of the time. By the time the plane landed, she was simply itching to get out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you may now turn on your cellular service while we taxi. Please remain seated with your seatbelts on."

The woman drones on, and Kenz is already texting up a storm. She can't help it. Finally, she has arrived, and she is excited for some quality time. Or, mostly quality time. Sharing her Jasper isn't something she truly wishes to do, but... she prays this is a phase.

Jasper Dear
Finally f-cking here.

Jasper Dear
Oh my god. Could this plane just park.

Jasper Dear

And, she's off, small duffle bag thrown over her shoulder and sunglasses holding her mane of wild locks back from her face as they sit atop her head. Her heels click upon the tiled floor of the airport as she navigates her way out of the terminal, impatient as she weaves through the early morning travelers.

The girl is hungry, and it shows. But first.


If a hug could be an assault, this would surely be it. She drops her bag, launching herself in a jump that would wrap arms and legs around him. It is an exhuberant show, but one of pure, heartfelt delight. "You beautiful man," she would exlaim, voice muffled from her burrowed perch.

"Who must I murder to see you a free man? Hm? Whose fault is it? Please say it's his." Though her tone is airy and full of humor, she really is silently begging God above for the answer she wants. Anything to give her an excuse to pluck the man's head from his shoulders.

Letting herself down, she takes his face in her hands and pouts. "My poor Jasper."
August 30, 2018 06:55 pm

Jasp Thompson

It takes an extensive amount of soothing before he’s able to leave their shared space. So much so, that Jasper is almost late to the airport. It’s with a final, somewhat firm affirmation that he’s stepping out of the door and rushing off.

He makes it just as Mackenzie’s plane is parking, as she so eloquently informs him. There’s a stitch in his side from running, but he hides it well, even when she spider monkey’s up his entire form. The return embrace is just as painful, and he’s amazed that she hasn’t popped from the sheer force. “You’re a f-ckin’ sight for sore eyes yourself, Mack.” Very sore eyes, he might add, eyes that are so damn tired of seeing New Orleans already.

And he’s only been there a couple days yet.

He can do this. He can do this.

Try as he might to keep a straight face, he’s laughing at the idea of Mackenzie murdering the entire judicial system on his behalf. It’s funny, but not entirely beneath her. In a show of appreciation, he spins her around, really solidifying in the minds of those around them that they are reuniting lovers.

“No, Mack, it’s not him, he laughs, shaking his head amicably. “He’s actually doing a remarkable job of keeping me out of the slammer.” The smile falters slightly as he considers just what it is that Gray has sacrificed for him; time, a f-ckton of money, and the freedom to leave this place whenever. Granted, Gray could leave anytime, but he’s unspokenly grateful that he’s chosen to stay.

She takes up his face, and he plasters a sufficient pout on it, soaking in the pity. Then, without a second thought, he tosses her and her bag over each shoulder and heads for the waiting car and driver, a luxury that he may never get used to.

In the back seat, Jasper kicks his feet up and over the right side of the passenger seat, leaning into Mackenzie as he does. “Tell me news of the outside world. I’m losing my mind here, Mack.”
August 31, 2018 07:09 am


Spun around, she laughs. There is no helping it. Jasper and his antics do this to her. Where she broods and gets to be her moody self with Victor, feeding her demons one at a time, she is a joker with Jasper. That other side of herself that just wants a good laugh. Of course, hearing of Jasper's man thing doing the trick to keep him out of prison brings a pout. Mackenzie could do just the same for him. She knows it. Just pepper on some light murder, maybe a bit of blackmail, and the trick is done so much faster.

Honestly, he would have been out of here if she were in the proverbial driver's seat.

Still, his pout tells all but before she can say a word she is being flung up and over the man's shoulder along with her luggage, and the squeal that escapes her is enough to tell those watching that there is definitely not a kidnapping taking place. As if there could have been suspicion, but lately, one could never tell.

In the car, Mackenzie bunkers down, hating that she is loving this treatment if only for the sheer fact that she knows precisely where it came from. That f-cking man. Ugh. And, like a couple of rag dolls, they are leaned into one another, Mackenzie's head rested comfortably on Jasper's weighted though capable shoulders. Her eyes close, and she lets out a breath.

"Well," the word comes out with a sigh before a contented smile creeps up on her lips. "I think we've been forgiven for the window and flooding. So that's a start. And... hm. Sh-t is boring, Jasper. You're not missing much, really. Pretty much everyone but Mexico and Canada are losing their damned minds. And Ireland. Of course. We're f-cking perfect, thanks."

With a sigh, she shifts, further bunkering down with the man. "Tell me what's happening, Jasp."
August 31, 2018 09:21 am

Jasp Thompson

“Ugh, spare me the politics of the world, Mackenzie, everyone’s losing their goddamned minds.” Jasper has been around too long to be surprised by political antics and climates. People are always going to be ridiculous, at least in his experience.

“I am glad to know your Redcoat is coming around.” That’s not at all what she’d said, but it’s what he hears, if only for the sake of mischief. “I’d hate to be a source of contention between you.” It’s sincere, but in that come-what-may sort of way.

Tell me what’s happening, Jasp.

A sigh, and he rests his cheek against the top of her head loftily. A gentle shrug from the shoulder she’s not currently resting on is the precursor to his overly told, severely condensed tale.

“I wanted to run. It was my first instinct to being faced with being locked in a f-cking cage again. But running from something like this, in and of itself, is a trap. I’d have to constantly be looking over my shoulder, incapable of going certain places. There’s video evidence of the dude with a gun, but,” and he wiggles his fingers in front of them, showcasing the lack of bruises, “they don’t believe I didn’t have a weapon. So, what I’m afraid of is, they’re going to plant some kind of weapon because they’d much rather believe their own lies than a truth like I’m a demon with incredibly fast healing capabilities.”

He doesn’t lie to her, but he won’t tell her the whole truth. Not about how Gray was there, not about how it was one of his clients, and certainly not the part where he was ultimately the person that ended the man’s life. It would just be fuel for the fire of Mackenzie’s hatred.

“If it comes down to it, though...” Jasper doesn’t finish the thought, but the implication is there. Prison isn’t an option.
August 31, 2018 12:00 pm


"Probably best they don't know the truth, honestly..." Mackenzie can only imagine the implications Jasper would face, much like the rest of their underworld. Tests, cages, torture in the name of science. Brow creasing, she hugs his arm from where she remains. "I wish you'd just run. There's nothing good about America, anyway."

Already in her mind, she is formulating their out. If there is one thing Mackenzie specializes in, it is disappearing when the need or desire arises. This out, of course, does not include his dalliance.

"Surely if they can see a gun in the video, they can see you don't have a weapon? You can't help being a big, strong, burly man." Her voice reflects the soft grin on her face, though she means every word. Ungodly strength is part of who they are, though they may not look like they could pack such a punch.

The ride to the house is spent in a quiet chatter betweenn the two, discussing nothing important and yet the slight stress is there. Mackenzie is apprehensive about seeing where it is the ridiculously dull man had taken Jasper, and when they pull up, she cannot help but roll her eyes. "Of course," she mutters.

Out of the car, she tries to snatch her bag before him but fails, and instead shoots him a look before following him inside. A piercing set of eyes would glance around, a small hand wrapped up with Jasper's because they are nothing if not strangely clingy when together. And, unable to help herself, a wicked little smirk that spells trouble would form.

"He flee the area or something?" Sniffing the air, she makes a show of not being able to pick up his beau's scent.

Mackenzie releases Jasper's hand, stepping away so that she might nose around their little rented abode. And, as she edges closer to the bedroom, her nose wrinkles. Turning around, she gives Jasper a sly little grin as she moves away from that direction. "You filthy f-cking man."
September 01, 2018 03:17 pm

Jasp Thompson

“There’s plenty good about America,” he amends with a gentle nudge to her shoulder, “just not f-cking Louisiana.”

A large reason as to why Jasper hasn’t just high-tailed it out of there is because of the memories he has here. This is enough of a high profile crime that word would certainly spread through the system, and soon, nowhere in the country would be safe for him. And there’s a particular portion, up north, spread in a sewer system, that he’s not ready to give up just yet.

He laughs bitterly at her assumption, a dark shadow crossing his features. “Apparently I was moving too fast for them to discern if there was a weapon or not.” With a sigh, Jasper shrugs, pushing it off with a curt nod. There’s no sense in dwelling on what might be.

They finally arrive to the house, and Jasper smirks as he snatches her bag just out of her reach before leading their way inside. A quick sniff of his own tells him Gray isn’t around, but they’d only just missed him. Idly, he wonders how quick of a flee it really had been; had he been watching, awaiting their arrival?

He finds he’d rather not know.

Feigning offense as he sets her bag down, he moves to grab them drinks from the kitchen, clutching at his heart. “Why, Mack, he insisted on you staying with us. Couldn’t dream of putting you up anywhere else.” The bald-faced lie is complimented by his mirth in the form of a hearty laugh.

His head pokes around the corner at her assessment, and he bounces his eyebrows up and down. “You don’t even know the half of it. Plus, he’s never been with a guy before, so it makes it all the more fun for me.”

He rejoins her with two whiskeys, neat, passing one off to her before emptying half of his own in one swallow. Looking around, his lip curls up in distaste. The place really is too posh for him, what with all the knickknacks and homey things. It quite feels like an old woman’s house, if he’s being honest, but then again, he hasn’t been in too many of those to really know the difference.

Turning back to his compatriot, he raises the glass to her before taking it all back in one more swallow. “Let’s get sloppy.” It’s unclear if he’s referring to their sobriety, or their coming hunt.
September 04, 2018 04:17 pm



Mackenzie knocks her drink back in one go after a salute. Without question, she sets to work on her phone, leaning into him and holding it so that they both can see as she opens Google Maps. They simply must find the perfect area, the perfect home, and the perfect victims. With much to decide, she settles on finding a place far away enough but close enough, and sparse enough, first.

“So... never. He’s never... wow. Jasper. Hats off to you. Not even I could turn a gay man straight, and what you’ve done is significantly more difficult.” Smirking, she zooms in on the map, checking out a particular street with Birds Eye View.

She knows she shouldn’t have claimed all of America is the worst. There are good things, wonderful memories, attached to this horrible country. Particularly, their home in New York.

God, she f-cking misses that place. She misses those people. Her people.

A glance toward Jasper is made, taking note of him more carefully. Mackenzie is assessing him. His comfort, his happiness, his health. The pair are disgustingly alike, and they tend to wear their hearts on their sleeve. “I’m glad to have you to myself for a little while, Jasper. It was thoughtful of him to give us some time.”

She’s trying. Really, she is. Thank God for her years in politics, for she isn’t sure she would be able to say anything nice at all. Mackenzie will never thank Gray. She isn’t stupid enough to honestly believe what she is saying, but for Jasper, she will be a better person.

“Do we get to keep Jeeves, then? Look at you living the posh life with your driver and your rental home. Honestly. This place looks like a time capsule.” There is no helping the quiet laugh that escapes her as she comments on the decor. “Does it come with a certificate of authenticity?”

By now, she is outright laughing at her own jokes, but one more quick glance at the man beside her has her settling down and passing the phone to Jasper. “How hungry are you? Young couple hungry, or small family?”
September 04, 2018 06:04 pm

Jasp Thompson

A smirk is shared between them as he takes their glasses to refill, trusting she’d find them a good place on her phone. “I’m very good at persuasion.” He won’t mention how he hadn’t even tried, that it just happened naturally. No sense in airing Gray’s laundry for everyone to see, though this might come off mildly more upsetting. Oh, well.

He returns, this time bottle in hand, sneaking a peek at what she’s doing as he passes the glass back. Like a heavy weight, he feels Mackenzie’s scrutinizing gaze as he stares down at the device in her hand, and he knows she’s worried. Were their roles reversed - a laughable scenario, really - he would be beside himself on her behalf. Jasper would have preferred to keep this from her; not for the sake of lying because he hates the very idea when it comes to Mack, but to save her the stress.

Her sentiment drags his stormy eyes upward to her face, and in her expression, he finds sincerity. A smile curls his lip up, and he nods. “He’s good to me, Mack. He’s good for me.” And that’s as sappy as he would ever be to her about it.

Another assessment of the house has him sighing. “I f-cking know, it’s like he just makes sure it’s the most expensive, doesn’t care what the f-ck it’s like.” He shakes his head before shrugging good-naturedly. “But we do get Jeeves. He has a real name, one I’m sure he’s infinitely more prone to, but I don’t remember it.” Another shrug before he tips the glass back and prompts her to do the same.

Taking the proffered device, he overlooks it, considering his own needs. Gray makes him keep on top of it now, since that one time that he forgot, so this is more just for entertainment for Jasper. “Let’s do a couple. A young one. I want them to really feel their love slip away.”
September 05, 2018 07:35 pm


"You sick, beautiful man," Mackenzie smiles as she leans to bump her shoulder into his. It is without hestitation that she launches herself out of her seat and into motion.

Things would be collected, mostly bottles of different amber liquids, and Mackenzie makes it a point to fish out one of Jasper's hoodies. It isn't hard to be so much larger than her, and Mackenzie needs that sort of coverage. She simply is not capable of going out in the daylight without threat of death.

It wouldn't be long after that they are sat in the car outside the dwelling that houses the beautiful young couple that Jasper so desires. "Jeeves... don't wait out side. We'll call you. Right?" She glances toward Jasper before nodding in affirmation. "Yea. And tell Mr. Taylor that Mackenzie says he is a f-cking Nance."

Satisfied, she winks at Jasper before climbing out of the car. The hood is lifted, shielding her sensitive eyes from the breaking light of the sun. As they get closer to the house, the flutter of youthful hearts would signal to them that their hosts are indeed awake.

Early risers are so much fun.

It is with a tilt of her head that she would beckon Jasper to follow, leading him around the side of the house. The back door, she thinks, is the best bet.

Until a loud, yappy dog seems to find them first. "Vicious little beastie," she growls quietly.
September 09, 2018 05:25 pm

Jasp Thompson

Sat in the back of the car, he stares up at the house where they would find their latest play things. The bottles in his pack clink lightly as he shifts the bag on his shoulder, casting a grin to Mackenzie as she seeks his affirmation. It’s only when she’s safely out of the car that he’ll lean forward and whisper a quiet, “Don’t tell him that,” and then dart out of the car after her.

A sniff into the air, and his mouth is already watering. Funny, no matter how satiated he is, the thrill of the hunt always brings forth that angry scratching in the back of his throat.

Their cover is blown by a particularly annoying dog, and Jasper squats down, holding out a hand in greeting. Timidly, the small beast comes forth and sniffs his hand, cautiously allowing the man to scratch behind it’s ears. It quickly relaxes, and Jasper inches more and more...

Until he’s snapping it’s neck with barely a yipe.

He shrugs, his expression telling of his ‘accident,’ and they move carefully through the yard.

Oh, to be young and in love. And apparently unafraid of potential intruders, as a simple turn of the knob allows them access to the abode. Heightened senses tell him that they are both upstairs, undoubtedly preparing for their day. It’s a Sunday; they’re probably devout church goers, as a large crucifix in the kitchen would cement.

Ironic that a demonic being and a Catholic vampire would be their demise.

Jasper, gentlemanly as ever, holds the door open for Mackenzie and motions her inside. “Ladies first,” he whispers, excitement practically vibrating off him.
September 09, 2018 09:09 pm


Mackenzie has never been a fan of bodily snaps, resulting in a cringe and chill that runs down her spine and leaves her feeling completely disturbed. Her disdain is shared by way of a single glance at Jasper before they continue on, a small hand reaching forward to hold the bag strapped to his back. She would relinquish her hold once they reach the door, dog forgotten as she is ushered inside.

Holy Mother of Bible Thumpers.

She immediately gestures to the ornate cross hung on the wall, disgusted by the open display of whatever this is. The look on her face says it all.

These people need to know what hell is.

Mackenzie gives Jasper a wink as she slams the back door loudly, a brazen demand for attention from their unwitting hosts. This is how she plays. With locked doors and the unexpected. Fear, however, would be an entirely different thing. If there is one thing the girl abhors, it is organized religion. Catholic as she may be, Protestant as she may have been raised, religion is ultimate what made her who she is today. So, yea. F-ck God.

She can her the worried whispers upstairs, and Mackenzie gives a grin to Jasper as she steps into the kitchen and begins to make herself at home. Their hosts seem unprepared for intruders, and she truly does have all day. Her hoodie is pulled off, discarded on a stool. Free, she begins to open the cabinets and look inside, one by one. It is only when their hosts come downstairs one by one, as she is putting on a particularly pretty apron just for sh-ts, that she stops her shenanigans and steps back over to Jasper.

Who are yo-

“Shut up.” Mackenzie locks eyes with the young man, and he is so compelled to be silent. “Good, pet.”

Looking up at Jasper, she hugs his middle from where she stands at his side, tilting her head back to look up at her best friend. “Dear, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I really think that in order to achieve that, we need to figure out who loves who most.”

Her gaze shifts sideways, landing on the couple, “After all, history dictates there is usually one bad egg.”
September 14, 2018 10:14 am

Jasp Thompson

Jasper grins in response to her door slamming, hearing the hushed voices falter above them. “Feisty,” he comments, following her lead and digging through the drawers. There’s no sense of propriety in their snooping; they are here, after all, to f-ck sh-t up.

A frying pan is located, along with some rudimentary pancake mix. Turning, he shakes the box excitedly to Mackenzie, just as they are joined by their... guests? Hosts? Hard to truly say, in this particular circumstance.

Jasper accepts the small woman into his side, an arm snaking around her form as he bends just slightly to press a kiss to her forehead. She produces a sardonic smile from the man, and he nods his agreement before frowning lightly. A hand traces the shoulder strap of her newfound apron with a tinge of jealousy. “I want one,” he decides before going toward where she found it.

In passing, he ushers their playthings to the barstools across from the stovetop island, snatching both their phones as they attempt to inconspicuously seek help. A hard glare is cast their way, as both devices are tossed into the sink in a pot full of dirty water. Pausing, he glances at Mackenzie. “A sink full of dishes? I sense a disagreement on whose responsibility this was.”

The coy grin takes up residency on his face, even as he picks out his own lacy apron. How ridiculous, he muses, and he can only assume these are for show, as the pair before them hardly seem like housekeepers.

As he ties the straps against his back, he explains their game.

“I’m craving pankcakes,” he notes, perhaps to everyone in the room, “but we require a certain special ingredient. I’ll give you a hint,” he adds, grabbing a knife deftly and twirling it adeptly between his fingers, “it’s blood.”

Coming to a standstill across from them, he begins the tedious mixing process while passing his stormy gaze between the two, coming to a final rest on Mackenzie. He beckons for her to join them, making a comment about needing a selfie in their aprons before this is over. “Or maybe we’ll just keep them?” His excitement knows no bounds.

“Now,” he pushes forward, as if there were never a break in his explanation, “you two have an option. One of you can volunteer, and tell the other a secret you’ve never spoken to them out loud... or...” There’s that wicked smile again. “You can call each other out. And be cutthroat. If you’re compelling enough, we might let you live.”

A lie, of course.

“I’m sure it goes without saying, but sh-ttier one of you will be donating your life essence to breakfast.” A sweet smile stretches his lips, and this would lead the odd couple to one of two paths; one where they lovingly and heroically attempt to save the other with a slew of kept secrets, effectively altering the other’s perception in their final moments... or throw each other under the bus in a mess of accusations, effectively altering the other’s perception in their final moments.

Turning to his counterpart, he waves the stirring spoon in thought. “You want action on this? I’m betting the woman is a well of f-cked up secrets.”
September 18, 2018 04:50 am


Without a single thought, Mackenzie takes a seat on the other side of the husband. Women are much too fragile, and this one is holier than thou, it would seem. No. If anyone would be Joe Hero today, it would be her big, strong husband. A stringy man, in all reality. It's a wonder he ever surpassed puberty before natural selection took him. She's impressed.

A little grin rests upon her lips as her sights travel over the man before she leans forward to catch his wife's gaze. A kiss is blown in her direction, before she would turn her attention to their chef.

Jasper really is perfection. He's fun. The man is never dull, no matter the mood or setting. He understands her brilliantly, and she him.

"We keep them, dear. Souveniers."


Sitting up straight at attention, she makes a show of paying keen attention. She can feel the man beside her start to shift in his seat, and she elbows him, hissing quietly at him to be still.

"I don't know.. I'm thinking PeeWee might surprise us. Besides, not all women are terrible. Just most of us," she muses, head tilting thought. Mackenzie knows she's her fair share to f-cked up. The difference here is that she freely admits to it.

"I... I..." Her head turns quickly, a cold stare settling upon the man.

"Come now, sweet thing," she coos, leaning into the man.

"I watch porn."

Her tiny grin turns into a full fledged smile, and Mackenzie finds herself clapping in her admiration of such a bold statement. Mouth agape in sheer delight, she looks between this unnamed idiot and Jasper, jabbing a thumb in his direction. "Right out of the f-cking gate. Give him a knife, dear. I want to see him punish himself."

Leaning, she whispers loudly into his ear, "And you will, won't you, darling? You will take that knife, and you will cut right," she takes his hand, drawing a dainty line across his palm, "here."

Though she releases his hand, she does not move away. Not until a knife is relinquished. Not until a shaking hand moves to hover it over his open palm. Not until..

That knife dives right into Mackenzie's shoulder.


Groaning, she looks at the damage, a dangerous glare shifting between the wound and the man. It would be dislodged, and she allows the wound to bleed freely as she grabs his wrist with a vice grip, laying his hand down upon the butcher block counter. "You didn't follow the rules."

Seconds later, that knife plows right through his palm.

"Wifey," she prompts calmly. A glance would be sent Jasper's direction, and she would wave a dismissive hand. "I'm fine, dear. It's fine."

With a smirk, she wipes at the gash, looking at the heavy stain upon her fingers before flicking them playfully toward Jasper. Sharing is caring, after all.
September 26, 2018 09:39 pm

Jasp Thompson

“Yes, but this one in particular has a certain air about her...” He leans forward, dangerously close to the woman’s face, his eyes roving her expression hungrily. “It’s... familiar.” A deep sniff has her whimpering, procuring a wicked grin from the man.

But her husband is confessing, and Jasper’s attention is drawn elsewhere. Pulling a face, he rolls his eyes, a bored look taking up his visage. “Hardly punishable,” he mutters, depositing the knife in the waiting hand, “everyone watches porn. In fact, I commend you for trying to at least learn something.”

A split second before the blade finds purchase in Mackenzie’s shoulder, he sees the resolve glint in their plaything’s eye. A low whistle is breathed right after the attack, and it takes a good deal of conviction to continue on with their little game, as he’s suppressing the urge to suck out his eyeballs. Still, he’s won over again by Mack’s offer, and after taking his proffered taste, he would make a kissing motion in her direction, wink and all.

“I need this,” he warns without ample chance for the man to prepare, before he’s ripping the blade through tendon and bone, effectively separating the palm. “Quiet down, sh, sh, sh,” his voice rises over the din of the couple’s shared screaming, pressing the bloodied blade into the wife’s cheek as incentive.

When they’ve collected themselves, he turns those stormy hues on the woman fully, the tip of the blade twisting a morbid dance into her flesh. “Your turn,” he whispers the prompt.

“I-I, uhhh, I...” The knife twists more, making her blanch before she visibly finds more resolve. “I think... I’m pregnant. And it’s not... It’s Paul’s baby...”

Jasper gives Mackenzie a look, the corners of his mouth pulled down into an expression of expectant surprise.
“F-cking Paul, am I right?” The husband is sitting in shocked silence; whether from the injury or the news, it’s hard to say. Twirling the blade in his hand, Jasper offers the hilt to the man once more, who can only stare at him blankly.

“Go on, take it. Punish her.” When he doesn’t grab the knife right away, Jasper takes his hand and forces his fingers to grip the handle.

He turns to his wife, who is staring at him with a mixed expression of shock and fear. Then, he turns to them, a flash of hope in his darkened face. “If I kill her, can I go free?”

Jasper smiles. “Sure, buddy.”

It lacks an alarming amount of hesitation when he plunges the knife, all the way to the hilt, into that woman’s abdomen. Even less when he repeats the pattern five more times, leaving her gurgling on her own blood and clutching at her stomach. Jasper, beside himself, is clapping along with shocked ecstasy; it was too good to be true, too simple.

When the man finally backs off, knife clattering to the floor, Jasper turns to his best friend. “That was a short-lived game. Would you like the honors, as I’m sure you have a score to settle.”
September 27, 2018 09:12 am


A kiss for a kiss, and Mackenzie casually smiles at the man beside her, after. This guy.. he would pay. He would pay with everything he is, simply for stabbing her. She and her accomplice have been gracious hosts. So much so, that Jasper is kind enough to tell the man he requires the knife before splitting his hand in two.

As Jasper does his work, Mackenzie runs a finger along the open wound of the man's hand, procuring for herself a taste.

Salty. Very, very salty.

Her nose wrinkles slightly in disgust.

And then, a confession. Mackenzie's gaze snaps to Jasper's, a quiet 'tut' escaping her as she nods to Jasper knowingly. F-cking Paul. F-cking Paul.

That is when it all goes downhill.

Words are exchanged, and in a quick movement, that knife finds a home within the woman's belly. Again, and again, and again. Slowly, she climbs up onto the counter, perching and watching. It is simply mesmerizing. Mackenzie has forced people to do this, but she has never actually witnessed a mortal commit the act on their own without prompt.

The knife clatters to the ground as the woman's limp body slumps back and slides off the chair, hitting the ground with a heavy thump. Looking at Jasper, she raises a brow, inching herself down the counter until she is directly in his space. Leaning in, she whispers loudly, "But, you promised..."

All for show.

Turning her head, those icy blues would find the man's, holding his gaze with a murderous intent. It's time to play.

"You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not scream. You will not run. You will do whatever you are told." Mackenzie commands the room, wiping her bloodied hands upon her stolen apron. But this is different. The confidence in her voice speaks volumes to her knowledge that they would not be disobeyed again. The man before them nods, though his panicked gaze tells a different story.

"You hurt me. I thought we were friends," she murmurs, her voice a saddened lilt. A hand would gesture toward her shoulder. "Go finish those pancakes. My Jasper is hungry. Don't forget the f-cking blood."

As their last contestant slides off his stool and steps around the island, Mackenzie lets her gaze land on Jasper as she pouts. "That sh-t really hurt..."
September 27, 2018 05:34 pm
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