Dead Men Tell No Tales
The dart drove into the freak’s frontal lobe, and it stumbled back, crumpled to the chill concrete floor.
Almost half a minute passed before Keith shakily lowered his weapon, wide-eyed and dripping in sweat. The body was small, ribs poking out that weren’t there when the mutant was first taken, black hair charred; blotches of shrivelled and inflamed skin mingling with blood, stark against the rest - a dull sand with the flush of pyrexia.
Hibbert stared at the body, slowly pocketing the gun. He straightened, wiped the sweat off his face, and chuckled. It was so easy. He’d have to hire better goons, those ones couldn’t take down some pint-sized mutie.
With a smirk smugly settling on his red face, he turned away from the body and strolled over to the exit door. A crowbar leant on the frame. He picked it up, and jammed it in between the gap, yanking it this way and that until the doors swung open.
Hibbert wiped the sweat from his brow again, a sigh of immense relief leaving him-
“AUWGHH-!” he squawked, pain exploding in his chest. His whole body spasmed, head dropped - six metal talons stuck out from his torso, shredded remnants of his internal organs dripping gore clinging to the impalement.
Suddenly, the claws drew back. Hibbert staggered, trembling hands moving to the gaping hole in his chest before a fist cracked him in the jaw, sending him to the ground.
Keith curled up into a ball, pathetic pleas mingled with choking sounds, red spittle periodically spraying out of his mouth; bitter tears staining the concrete.
“...please…” he warbled, staring bug-eyed as the horror lumbered away from him, letting the failed dart thud to the ground “...please...help-”
His vision went black, a sickening ‘CRACK!’ screaming in his ears as his neck snapped backwards.
And then...nothing.