Bloody affairs (18+)

001

( GRAPHIC AND GORY. READ AT YOUR OWN CURIOSITY )

GRADY🏴❤️‍🔥

" Fottuti idioti! " I seethe through gritted teeth as the sirens grow louder. I grab my attackers arm, twisting it until a sick ' pop ' echos from his elbow. His arm hangs at an awkward position as he screams out in pain. I keep twisting, making sure the ligaments and muscles tear from the bone. ( fucking idiots )

I then throw his arm, his body following with. I then spin around, pulling a gun from my belt and aiming it at a woman dressed in a black leather one-piece combat suit. She's holding one of my men by the neck, a knife held at his temple. I pull the trigger, in an instant she falls to the ground blood expanding on the pavement around her. I don't bother looking at her any longer. I turn again, pulling a knife from my sleeve chucking it at an Asian man in the same attire as the woman. The knife ' thunks ' into the man's neck, blood spurts from his molted flesh.

" Muoversi. " I order my men. Whoever's not stuck in a 1v1 battle dashes from the site. I go to leave as well until I see one of the youngest of members struggling to overpower his attacker. I watch for a second, frozen in time. I ponder whether I should leave; it'd be easier and one less weak link would only benefit me. ( Move )

I'm not my father.

I turn, digging my feet into the pavement as I push myself forward. I grab another knife from my boot as I propel myself into the air. I land and roll, slicing at the both of the man's achilles muscle.

" Tira fuori il culo da qui. " I order the boy who cradles his injured upper arm. I stand to my feet quickly, watching as he vigorously nods his head before sprinting from the area. ( Get your ass out of here )

I look back down at the man. I barely let my head move to peer at him. He look up at me, silent; too proud to make a noise. I then lift my boot, slowly bringing it down on his face. I apply as much pressure as I can, his screams then erupt from his throat, being proud no longer being a factor in our situation. His shrieks climb in volume and pitch as the bones in his face cave and crack. He claws at my steeled toe boot, begging me to get off without uttering a word. Slowly he becomes quiet and still. Then, it's completely silent. Too silent. Where did the sirens go?

I look up, the sounds of hurried footsteps and shouts cause my ears to perk. Well fuck me.

I sprint to the man I embedded my knife into, jerking the weapon from his throat. I then turn, coming face to face with men in blue. They all file through the alley, hiding themselves behind big green dumpsters and other junk. They have their guns drawn at me their mouths move, demanding me to surrender. A throaty laugh bellows from my chest.

" Sorry fellas, I only follow daddy's orders. " I grunt, I then turn on my heel and dash into the alley. I push myself to run as fast as I can. I turn around and laugh at the site of being chased. When I look forward again I come to a screeching halt. A brick wall stops me. On the other side is a busy street.

I turn my head again, watching as the police draw near, their fingers squeezing slightly on the triggers of their pistols. They're ready to shoot me. I gotta get out of here.

I grab onto the wall, the pads of my fingers digging deep into the grooves of the cement between the bricks. I pull myself up, grunting as the skin of my fingers peel back. Blood drips down my digits, running down my palms.

I finally get to the top. I throw my arm over the side, pushing myself up until I can hoist my leg over. I sit over the top like I'm riding a horse. I turn back to the swarm of police, and salute them.

" Ah, my bad boys, I'm a little bit of a liar. " I begin with a stupid smile. " I don't listen to my father either. " I quip before leaning sideways, falling off the wall.

I fall, slamming into a mound of moldy sheets and cloth. A bomb of dust whelms up around me. I push my way out of the cloth, coughing as the dust infiltrates my lungs.

I stumble to my feet, breaking out into an unsteady run as I sprint down the street. I push my gun into its holster, the crowds of people screaming as I run past. Then, wails of sirens erupt behind me causing me to mentally curse. The fuckers decided to chase me by vehicle.

I sprint, taking a sharp turn into a grand building. I blast through the doors, pushing them open as hurdle through. I run through the dark hallways until another set of doors appear. I push through intending to continue the chase but freeze.

In front of me is an auditorium. At the very end of the room is a huge stage. A panel of what looks like judges sit between the stage and the audience. I come back to life when I see a uniform line of women in unitards and tutus dance out from the side of the stage. They move gracefully like they're walking on air, with what seems like no effort; but even so, their movements are deliberate and fluid.

I slowly walk forward, my eyes glued to the dance number that's progressively become faster. The girls twirl and spin, the music grows more frantic and rushed. I find myself lowering into a seat, completely enamored by the performance. I slide deep into the seat so no one can see me. I rest my ankle on my opposite thigh, in the man's version of " leg crossing."

The music becomes more frantic, the girls become less fluid but still hold an air of delibercy. The vibe in the room becomes tense and almost scary, like something bad is about to happen. And then, suddenly, she runs out from the side.

She sprints on her tiptoes before throwing herself forward, getting caught by the other dancers. They spin her, like the artistic embodiment of an attack. She flys backward, rolling to the floor before pausing in an angelic pose.

The music fades.

The main dancer jolts out of her pose, then the music explodes again into a frenzy of chaotic sounds. The girl leaps back into the onslaught of deranged dancers. They attack her through pirouettes and gentle touches, all while remaining en pointe. The girl remains in the middle of the group, spinning, spinning, spinning before she collapses. The other dancers collapse with her; the music stops again.

The girl suddenly rises, slowly and silently; lifting herself into a sitting position. She glances around the battlefield before falling to her hands, sobbing.

She's a queen who had to fight her own subjects. She was forced to struck them down, showing them that they were not in power for a reason. Their actions bid consequences; consequences in which she had to serve. Their queen did all she could to get them to stop, and in the end, she came out as the victor; but not without mourning the loss that ripples through her people. Despite the war, and despite their betrayal, she still wished victory and success amongst her subjects.

And the girl who acted as the queen stole my breath away. Her shoulders moved with each fake cry, her slicked back hair and perfect bun caused me to be able to see her fake clearly.

She was beautiful.

And I had to see her; have her. At least just once.