run and chase (frank x quentin) dbd

Revenge [ch.3]

My own little audience.

Now this... was fun. This was definitely more fun than quickly ending a trial in less than 5 minutes. I wonder if anyone else would catch on... hm... maybe I can only keep Quentin..

"I think.. I see the shack over there"  Quentin pointed to the right, breaking my train of thought.

I could see his breath as he talked. The little fog he created swirled and then faded away. Just like how we all end up after a trial. Back to our respective.. lobbies? The victims get a campfire to wait by.. and the killers get a cabin in the woods.

We headed down to the "Killer's Shack" hustling a bit because we didn't want to get spotted by "Wraith". 

We could hear rustling downstairs, and once plummeted down there we could hear a man's groan. 

"Fuck.."  Quentin whispered under his breath.

I turned around the first corner on the right to spot a man rummaging through the chest.

He looked pissed. 

"David " I spoke.

The man turned around with a gruff expression on his face.

He wore a white wife beater with scuffed up slacks, accompanied by worn and torn boots. He was... muscle-y. But this shit brick can't take me on.

"What do ya want?" He snapped.

"I want you to learn a lesson" I replied, holding my own anger inside.

"The fuck did you just say? And who- QUENTIN? You piece of shit, you little fuck get the fuck outta here! No wait, stay here and I'll go get the killer so he can rip your ass raw! I hope it fucking hurts! I -" His tantrum was cut short when I punched him in the jaw.

I turned to look over at Quentin and I could see his eyes were glassy, at the very edge of spilling into a waterfall.

I turn back to the dipshit, he was on his knees cradling his jaw like a baby.

"Shut up" I demanded.

I kicked him in the stomach and he let out a gasped groan.

"Shut the fuck up."

He fell to his back against the chest

"FUCK" He let out.

I felt Quentin's hand on my shoulder, "Maybe this is enough-"

I shook his hand off and turned back to my prey. "It's never enough" I replied.

I could feel my heart beating fast. Why? Normally killing gets me pumped up but, not this much.. Is it possible that I was wanting this more for Quentin? Did I actually have feelings? Did I really care?

I felt anger.

I grabbed this shit sack by the front of his tank top and slammed him down onto the chest. I sandwiched him with his head inside the chest and his neck resting on the chest's lip.

Then I brought the lid down. Hard.

Both Quentin and David gasped in shock and horror.

It wasn't just once that I brought the lid down.

We heard the vertebra in his neck crunch.

I kept smashing the lid until it closed.

I heard Quentin walking away hurriedly, hyperventilating.

I wiped the blood from my hands and looked at my masterpiece.

"Quen, he'll be fine" I looked over and Quentin stretched out both arms on the wall, his head pointed down. He might puke. "Look, er... don't look. But he'll be fine he'll be right at the campfire with everyone else".

"I-I've n-never seen som-ething like t-that before" He stammered. He breathed in heavily, and exhaled. "Especially never s-seen a s-survivor kill before..."

"It was self defense" I answered.

"wh- how??" He looked up at me wide eyed, " WE CAME UP TO HIM"

"He was hurting you and I stopped him"

The room grew silent.