Vos Returns

Standing at the summit of a concrete structure was the haggard visage of a cadaverous entity. The solitary quintessential manifestation of the macabre, took in the cacophony of the city with an ear for dissonance. Streams of soft air kissed the creature’s parched and arid skin as it sagged with light yellow curves of wrinkled malnourishment. Sharpened cracked dentures protruded from a host of blood red rotted red gums that were accentuate from the absence of lips. A gap of serration allowed the monstrous jaws to lock in tightly. It was a slender beast, a ghastly monster that garbed the attire of contemporary fashion. A black flowing coat fashioned from leather, a tattered cotton blouse with manic ornament, and a long pair of torn black jean trousers.

What ambitions did the cursed creature strive for? What motivated the crudely fashioned blades resting within the confines of their leather holsters within his coat? It was the mere thought of the consumption of those he perceived dripping with sin. It was a design he followed with earnest righteousness and dauntless credence. Despite such unwavering fanaticism, it was not he who provoked his own hand; it was another who kept him on the objective. For it was the whim of another echoing within his head and causing him to precariously heed instruction. He was to kill, and it was deemed to happen soon, for the dark crevices that once harbored his eyes had locked on to prey.

He had slowed his pace so he may keep himself in wake of his prey’s tires. Plotting a course among the path of roof tops, the creature maintained a steady vantage. It had spent a good hour tracking his prey’s movement till the final stop, an isolated alley. It was a location that the creature had quickly marked as cliché, seeing as most of his victims dwelled within such seedy underbellies. Still, the creature had quixotic illusions, and held the consistency as a blessing rather than succumbing to a state of ennui.

Still, a considerable question was raised within the creatures head. A query asked for purpose of reinforcing a self-righteous ideal. Who was the man that he was about to devour? The answer could be left with the simplistic response of; a criminal. That alone wasn’t enough, further information was needed to best surface his heinous deeds.

His mark was a corpulent man designated “King Crow.” Behind the exaggerated moniker was merely the label; Alan Tuttleson. It was a name that was usually stamped atop the rap sheet of a long column of crimes. He was a Caucasian man of indulgence, an epicurean creature that delighted in drugs, alcohol, and molesting young women. A sedentary monster that masqueraded behind a veil of nobility; extravagant attire, high performance vehicles, and the luxury of hired help. He made his drop offs within the confines of an ivory limousine. Such a spectacle often drew attention, but he found no need to be inconspicuous, the color green blinds the eye of the authoritative objector.

It was the last collection point; King Krow was notorious for collecting from his dealers early. Finding the action of vacating his vehicle laborious, he had often kept his posterior seated in leather comfort while he observes his cohorts making the drop from his passenger window. The simple minded pawns at his disposal kept themselves armed at all time; plastic molded pistols known as glocks rested in the comforts of their leather holsters. Such low powered ballistics never really phased the creature, but enough lead in the right places could be his fall.

Like a gargoyle perched at sentry, the monstrous creature known as Vos spied all that within the dirt strewn alley. Three guards vacated the slender white vehicle, their ethnicity ranging from African to Caucasion. Garbed in dirt worn cloth, they scanned the vicinity of the alley to insure a smooth procedure.

“Hmph, it smells like piss in here Tubbs” One of the guards said, his brief spout of dialect and diction left Vos the impression that he was uneducated trash.

“Shieet, man. I don’t come to your place and judge the drapes.” the hefty drug dealer retaliated with a light scoff. Sporting garish rags from a name brand clothing outlet, the large African reached into his jacket to produce a plump manila envelope. With a smirk stretching across his dark face, he uttered the words, “Busy month.”
The man who had shared dialog with him closed the gap of empty concrete between them; taking the envelope with a secure hand the thug weighed it appraisingly. “Damn, you did hood Tubbs! Must be a lot of junkies in this shit hole.”


The creature went into motion, setting himself just above the large bodied drug dealer. The monster poised himself for a five story descent, his five inch crimson stained blades resting in the gap between his palms and fingers. Without a decibel of noise to mark his dismount, the ghoul plummeted from his position. A steady stream of air resistance tugged at the sagged flesh of his cheeks, exfoliating flakes of cracked dead skin. His landing was as soft as a baby’s cough, and if he had not landed in a direct line of sight, none could point out his presence. Still, he was not aiming for stealth. He was aiming for the back of Tubb’s neck. Dual blades lashed out violently with steel ferocity, making contact and sending a splash of warm crimson that kissed Vos’s cheek. With the back of the chemical merchant’s neck punctured, all it took was a downward yank of the handle to send the blade’s edges ascending up to rupturing the vital organic vessels that insured life. Within a matter of seconds, the creature retracted his blades allowed the lethargic body to drop limply to the floor.

Below their brows the three men wore a visage of both shock and confusion as the monstrous personification of horror cackled madly. It was beyond the brutal act that had taken the life of Tubbs, but more upon the Halloween image that stood before them. The creature played upon this pause, bursting past the dormant body and plunging his wet blades into eyes of the money carrier. Puss and blood erupted from the initial punctures; the man’s tongue flicking out as he released a toddler’s scream. When metal touched brain, the body stopped working.

King Krow looked on with horror, but quickly shook away the grotesque scene and beckoned his driver to step upon the acceleration. The reply came in form of a gurgle, as two flicks of the monster’s wrist heralded the coming of a pair of sleek edged projectiles. One busted the drivers’ side tinted window into a shower of glass; the other rendered the driver lifeless and leaving him unable to perform the requested task.

The creature relished upon the initial carnage, it was a source of ecstasy that sent him into a blood waged reverie. His skeletal hands fell into the open crevices of his coat, brandishing two more blades that he had concealed away. The two guards followed suit, retrieving their firearms while their employer cowered within the perceived safety of his vehicle. After a few resounding blasts of noise, three scarlet blossoms erupted from the creatures chest and sent him staggering backward. Brass ballistics tore open his flesh, but did little to sap the strength of his resolve. He charged toward his attackers with a maniac’s smile, his blades breaking past his opponent’s defense and extinguishing entity before a follow of crimson life force.

A bit of blood splashed onto the creature’s tongue and it left him with jubilant recognize. He felled his last opponent with a final flash of steel, sending a vertical curve across the throat that resembled a maniac’s smile. With all conscientious objectors silenced, the monster had but one more bit of business to attend to. Yanking the door to the limousine open, the horrendous creature known as Vos gazed upon King Krow. If he could smile, he would.
Coming out as a hiss, the creature murmured in the man’s ear “I wish not to ostracize you from those of your community.”

With that bit said, Vos shut the door behind him, the smut king crying out a final gospel. Edging closer, Vos tested his theory on how succulent King Krow would taste.