.-.Dsaf-Oneshots/Art.-.[REQUESTS OPEN]

.-.home attack.-.[Dave & Jack]

WARNING: GORE/CHARACTER DEATH

Dave's creepy tendencies pay off for once.
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Perfect.

That was the only way Dave could describe what was happening on the screen right below him.
His dearest just stepped out of the bathroom, only in a towel,  wet, orange hair clinging to his from make-up rinsed face.

Dave smiled happily when he remembered how shocked  he at first was when he saw his coworker without makeup.

Because on first viewing, he seemed like a normal human, skin only slightly stained orange in some places thanks to the permanent use of makeup.
Dave then thought he truly did not have a counterpart on this world and would be considered the only true freak.
But when he looked closer onto the wet body, he saw old tracks of a springlock failure, the reddened scars sprinkling across his body like confetti would cover the showroom of a party.

Absolutely beautiful--

And only his.

Well, not quite, and Daves head spun as he remembered how his Old sport decided to decline his offer today.

His giant claw-like fingers scratched against the Surface  of his office desk, creating deep marks in the cheap metal.

He saw red and the claws went deeper, finally piercing through the desk.

Had felt that exact same way earlier.

Had wanted to jump forward and cut his head off--

Movement.

Dave stopped and pulled his claws out of the desk.

He knitted his eyebrows together and stared on a screen, directly looking into the darkness of the kitchen and frowned.

Could'a sworn he saw movement.

Couldn't have been Old Sport, he went  up to his room--

Again.

Dave looked closer and finally saw a shadowy figure moving through the building.
Dave watched with interest, eyes moving across the body.
They halted and fixated on something on the thing infiltrating Old sports home.
It shimmered in the moonlight, showing off it's sharp and dangerous edges.  

Ah.

Well that sure is interesting.

Dave froze,eyes glued to the screen, inspecting its behaviour.
It didn't look around the kitchen, and quickly moved into the living room.

So not a thief?

But why would he--

Daves eyes widened and quickly lowered, mouth forming into a scowl.

Of course, not everyone breaks into a house to steal, some just do it to blow of some steam.  

Dave looked onto the person slowly advancing the stairs, and he smiled.

Well, guess he also found a way to blow off some steam from the day.

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Despite his size, Dave made his way through the vents connecting to Old sports house mostly silently.
He crawled forward, using his claws as a way to push himself through the vent quicker.

He stopped when he heard an unfamiliar sound below him and looked through a small maintenaince opening directly below him.

He saw the unfamiliar figure clearer now, and scowled.

Some wierd, old fucking hobo, face smeared with what smelled like trash and clothes seemingly stained.

If Dave hadn't been so desensitized by his youth, he would've probably wretched.

Dave looked at the room they were both in and he had to suppress the sudden urge to growl.

Old sport's bedroom.

His suspicions were fully confirmed when he saw the hobo slowly stalk over to the bed where the (now not so) orange guy laid and slowly pulled his knife out.

That was the third time Dave saw red today.

He kicked open the hatch to the shaft of the ventilation system and without giving the attacker the time to react, Dave jumped down onto him, digging his heels into his back and muffled the hobos screams of terror with his claw-like hand, and dragged the fucker out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the living room, throwing him onto the ground.

The person on the floor readied his knife infront of him, but seeming so unsure now.

Dave basked in it and he move forward, grinning and readying his claws, his vision becoming more and more cloudy, because no one, fucking no one--

"No one gets to hurt my sportsy."

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Dave licked his hands clean of the blood spread across them, enjoying the metallic and grinned.

God, what a night!

He felt fucking great.

Wasn't even mad at at old sport anymore, seeing the dismantled corpse on the red-drenched floor.
But almost as if summoned, the light of the livingroom turned on and Dave looked around, and soon locked eyes with his old sport.

He saw how the guys eyes widened and how he froze, and Dave decided to take look around the room.

The walls were covered in the blood of the man, mostly coming from how dave threw him through the room to get his skull to crack open.

But why did he want to--

Dave looked to the corpse, half of the body completly dismantled and his head decapitated. Some of the bodyparts had huge chunks taken out.

Dave mindlessly touched his reddened lips.

That would explain the blood around my mouth.

After atleast a few silent minutes of Dave admiring the room, he turned to the human still on the stairs, expression shocked and seemingly  frozen in time.

Dave smiled happily, as he could finally look at Old sports face without wanting to rip it off for his betrayal.

The purple man laughed, and beamed at the smaller person, feeling absolutely proud of himself and cheerily said:

"You're welcome."

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Not gonna lie, this shit is fucking edgy.

But hey, I'm back!

Time for more mediocre dsaf storys!

921 Words