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Metro: Beyond

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It hadn't been his fault, not really. It was so easy to get lost in the metro. So many half-collapsed tunnels. so many "shortcuts" that lead to dead ends. So many walls knocked out by people trying to create their own path. It was confusing down there. And if anything kept you from knowing a section like the back of your hand - say, you weren't from around here, or maybe you were a little drunk, or maybe you just weren't paying close enough attention - getting lost was all too easy.

But the loss of the People of The Machines was a win for the Children of The Great Worm. They'd made quick work of the old man in military surplus clothes, knocked him over the head with a rock and dragged him back through the tunnels. When he started to stir - the bleeding head wound hadn't been quite enough, apparently - Dima took it on himself to bash a brick against his skull several more times, until he stopped moving entirely.

Once he was back at their hidden, carved out home, it was time for the messy work of butchering. Dima started yanking off the dead man's clothes, looking around for where the meat hook and chain had ended up.

"Sofka!" he called, figuring she'd be close, "Come help me."

@Grimscythe

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Sofka was always close. Always. Not to sound like a creep, but that was a definition the ghostly woman fit well. She had a habit of slinking around, of being there, but not actively there, so to speak. So when Dima called her name, she surfaced from the shadows and watched him, amusement twinkling in her eyes. Amusement that soon turned to feigned sadness as she looked down at the corpse betwixt them.

"Really Dima? You had to bash his head in? I'll be picking bones out of his brains forever now," she sighed, exasperated. She loved the consistency of brains, and in a way Dima's inability to consume that particular part of a body was a boon to her: she got his portion of brains in exchange for some of Sofka's serving of flesh.

Noticing the younger one looking around, Sofka swept her gaze over the area in search of whatever it was he sought--and found it. Walking over to the chain, she heaved it up and looked along the ceiling of the tunnel they were in for a pipe to drape it over. She found one, and began the process of swinging the hook around in an attempt to thread it through so that the corpse could be hoisted upward. It took several attempts, and lots of racket, but she finally succeeded and pulled the meat hook down for Dima to pierce the flesh of the victim with.

"Hurry up, so I can get him lifted," Sofka said.

@WisePenny

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He jumped when she appeared from around a corner. He'd called her, figuring she wouldn't be far, but he wasn't anticipating her being that close. One might think a cannibal murderer would be less jumpy, but Dima's fellow cultist seemed to have that effect on everyone.

"He wouldn't stop moving," he said when he'd settled down. "I needed to do something..."

Dima took the meat hook from her and walked over to the now-naked corpse. It was tricky to hang a human body. Every single one was different, with unequal fat and bone distributions that made finding a place to string each one up a bit of an art. But it was an art Dima and Sofka had both practiced for years. He found a place near the victim's ankles, and used the large hook to go through both legs to make him more centered, more stable.

He walked around the the chain and looked to Sofka, waiting for ehr to grab hold before he started to pull.

@Grimscythe

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Posted (edited)

Sofka shook her head at Dima, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

"Tch. Suffocate him next time. You got enough meat on your bones to do that if you step on his throat," she jeered, making fun of his smaller stature. Her gaze flicked over her shoulder momentarily, as if she'd heard something. A few moments passed in which the young woman determined she was hearing things, and she looked back to Dima then the corpse. Curling her arms around the body's torso, she heaved while he hooked and soon enough, the dead man was strung up.

"You got the knives?" she asked, peering at him from the corner of her eye. Just in case he doesn't, Sofka had a pair tucked into her boots. She had to make sure Dima could do these things on his own though. Preparation for if they were ever separated.

Sofka worried about Dima a lot, especially considering the fact that he struck her as meek. It was that big sister mind of hers that convinced her he wasn't yet capable of caring for himself. In some ways, Sofka was a bit of a watch dog.

@WisePenny

Edited by Grimscythe

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"It's hard to suffocate someone who's walking around..." Dima said, but the excuse was paltry. Inadequate. Like his hunting ability, and Dima knew it. He didn't meet Sofka's accusing gaze. She was always better than him at these things. And never mind how slight he was.

He didn't pay attention to Sofka looking around for a noise - that was normal, and in fact, just about everyone in the Family seemed to have keener hearing than Dima did, frequently hearing things his ears never seemed to pick up. He just hoisted the body and looped a rung of the chain over a waiting spike to keep the body aloft.

"Of course I have knives," he said, tone just a hint defensive. He reached into the small pack he wore and pulled out a canvas bundle, which he unrolled on the ground to reveal a set of three knives. Each was differently shaped, like they'd been scavenged rather than made for the task, but all three were honed to perfect. He considered for a second before selecting a small, narrow blade, which he took with himself as he knelt by the dangling head.

"Did you want the blood? Could make sausages, but I haven't got a pot for it."

@Grimscythe

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Posted (edited)

When Dima drew out the set of knives, Sofka's nose wrinkled slightly. Stepping forward, she reached down for one of the knives Dima didn't select and tested its sharpness against her finger tip. A thin line of blood blossomed on her pale skin and she popped the digit into her mouth and suckled the crimson stain. She doesn't offer him accolades for passing this test, though. There would be no good jobs if something ever happened to her, no cheers, no praise. And so she criticized his every move, his every word.

"You could also choke him. With your arms," Sofka pointed out, an exasperated sigh punctuating her words. As the corpse was strung up, her gaze swept the room, as if anticipating what he would say next.

"Seriously, Di? I guess I'll just drink it straight. C'mon, open him up," she said, rolling her eyes. She knelt down in front of the man's corpse and drew a line across where he needed to cut. "Right here."

@WisePenny

Edited by Grimscythe

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He didn't notice her testing out his knives. He wasn't watching. but even if he had been, he wouldn't have said much. He was a meek little thing, and his big sister's domineering nature left him unwilling to question most of her actions. If she wanted to play with his knives, he just trusted that she knew what was best.

"I could have done," he agreed, now doubting himself. "He's just bigger than me. And since I lost my wire it's been tricker." A foolish and costly mistake, that one. He'd had a length of wire - from some industrial machine, maybe, or maybe from a piano (not that he'd either seen either) - that he used to carry around rolled up in his pocket, specifically for garroting his victims. He'd gotten caught up in a scuffle, though, and had lost it to he depths of the metro. It was hours and miles before he even noticed it was gone, too late to go back for it. He'd been kicking himself for it plenty in the weeks since.

He turned to look at Sofka and made an annoyed, sweeping gesture. "We're a little far afield here. If we were home I'd have my gear. But I don't wanna' drag him all the way back, do you?" He shook his head and bent over the body, waiting a second for Sofka to get in position before making a clean slice across the throat. They had to drain the body or the blood would spoil the meat, but the blood in and of itself was useful. Dima was just more wasteful about meat than most.

The blood poured out from the cut without hesitation, bubbling over the limp, dead face. Dima cupped his hands under the flow, catching some for himself but leaving much more for Sofka.

@Grimscythe

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Sofka listened. And she rolled her eyes, even mimicked his excuse while she waited for him to cut open the man's throat. When he did, she mirrored him and cupped her own hands, drinking the coppery fluid hungrily. It was still warm, had not yet thickened. It was palatable. She doesn't say anything until she's done, her gaze lifting to Dima.

"Excuses, Dima. Improvise. You have to always be able to improvise," she chastised. It seemed like she could always find something wrong with what he did. But she wasn't going to allow it to lead to another argument while the blood thickened. 

Reaching into her back pocket, Sofka withdrew something wrapped in cloth and passed it to Dima, blood staining her chin and hands. "Here, this is for you." As she handed it over, she watched his face. Upon opening the gift, he'd find a new garrote within. High quality, like her knives. Where had she found it? Or better yet, who had she taken it from?

@WisePenny

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"I did improvise!" he said, though he sounded much like a whining child. "I hit him with a rock!" Blood was dripping down his chin and he wiped his face with the back of his sweater sleeve, which already had plenty of blood staining it in various spots.

He sat back on his heels, watching as the blood kept pouring from the body, more than the two could ever drink without getting sick. It was a bit of a waste, but better to save the meat than let the blood settle and spoil it.

His dark eyes slipped over to his sister, watching her produce the little bundle. Flipping his grip on his knife, he reached out for it, placing it on his lap and unwrapping the cloth. He felt what it was before he saw it, but didn't believe it. It was too good to be true.

"Fuck!" he gasped. "Sofka! Where'd you get this?" Dima held it up, turning it over in his hands. It caught the bare light from the oil lamp in the room, and he was beaming already.

@Grimscythe

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