Slaughter's House [Ruby & Jacob] [M]

[attr="class","iii"]You break his smile
I break your neck
I must confess that
I don't feel like a monster

[attr="class","naen"]The sight of blood, the way a disproportioned reflection of the woman's frame could be seen in the pools of a beautiful crimson, she hadnt felt this in a long time now. The actual pleasure in ruining a human being's life by cutting their bridges to the nearest future of living, by leaving them incomplete on the cold floor, staring at the mess she and Jacob alike, made. It was gorgeous. Black was not the sexiest color, red was. Her stained hands on the wooden handle of the axe, then on the slippery chains between her fingers, and finally on the smooth duct tape that was sure intended to keep the French up.. She missed this. Not, having a significant person to her in danger, but murdering, being cruel in her tortures. Ruby's moves had never been swifter, she was in her element and she truly adored it. But her fingers started to twitch as the silence fell over the three, only a minor sound of a liquid running out of its body could be heard from each of the corpses. She had no idea that, if Pierce didnt have her back, she would have said goodbye to her life tonight too. It was funny, that made two, or actually three times Jacob had protected her. And she never returned the favour. What was wrong with her? Max too saved her life, and she couldnt remember doing anything to save any of the two from a dangerous situation. Did she...not care? It was impossible, she wouldnt be here right now. It looked more like she somehow ended turning the danger towards her, rather than Max or Jacob, in most of the cases. The aquarium, she planned to push Max over the railing herself, but karma was a bitch. The meeting with the Bianchi Godfather...Shaun really wanted to hurt Max. He got beaten up, and she took a bullet because she hoped that would just have Shaun redirect his anger, and leave Max and Jacob out of it. But then...Jacob played hero.

And now it was time they were both Madden's twisted, sick heroes. But those are the best, right? As the two hurried towards Max, taking in the full sight of a friend now playing chess with Death itself, Ruby's frown slowly disappeared, as there were no more enemies around. Red used the nearest blade to cut off the material having Max's wrists bound, and tossed it away, the metalic sound echoing through the room. Pierce held the cop carefully, she could see that, and she was grateful he did so. She didnt believed she would be able to carry Max, let alone do that herself, and as the mercenary started moving, the blonde looked around quickly, spotting where she had left the gun from the French's stash. But then, her heart skipped a beat, at the sound of her French man's voice, barely coming through his lips. "Shh, it's fine, Max. You'll be home in no time." Congrats Blackwood for winning the lie of the night award. Max needed medical care, professional one and fast. There would be no way in hell they just drove Max back to his apartment and dumped him on his bed, say goodnight then leave. Her voice was soft, fearing she might startle the man if the two just used normal tonalities, or started screaming now. Plus, the silence was aiding them.. And for a moment, Red felt like she was trying to calm down a scared child, to reasurre him that he was safe again, that it was nothing more than a nightmare what he had experienced. She ran her fingers into Madden's hair once, to move it out of his face and also give the two a better good at how he was, if he opened his eyes or if he mouthed something else. He looked more than wrecked, blood was dripping from his barely patched hind, his back and his feet were just plain red. Stained by his nobility, by their friendship. By the fact that he refused to rat out his best friends in order to keep his life. Was their bond really that destructive? Ruby would have done the same though, sat silent while watching Death wave at her, and her attackers get frustrated. Maybe she would have made it fun for herself too, begin throwing suicidal comments at them, provoke the fuckers. Not like she cared about herself anyway, her main focus was Enigma, Max and Jacob. No more, no less.

Ruby ran to grab back the weapons that had to be returned, and let them hang from her shoulder with the black material bands. She then tried to help Jacob sustain Max better, only if he'd allow her or maybe give one or two instructions on where to touch and where not to. "Where do we drive him, Jacob? I dont have what it takes to put him back on his feet, in my first aid kit." Ruby mentally ran through a list of drugs and medications, pills and substances that could possibly help Max. She had a bigger stash of substnces at the warehouse than at her home; morphine, clean syringes, vein tubes and needles, IV bags, they were all in that room no one was allowed to enter in, her ex bedroom got turned into some freak deposit by the blonde herself. But you never know when you need something besides poison. So right now, the best and the nearest option for Max was the hospital.

They should get out of the slaughterhouse, one way or another, with the two criminals dragging their French out of this madness, towards the car in this cold night. And if Jacob wanted to drive, he was welcome to do so, but if he would rather stay in the back and keep an eye on Max, Ruby will have to slam her foot onto the acceleration pedal again. Damn the choice to get a car with an actual roof was good. They would die on this cold if it was the broken, red and roofless car, and poor Max would get a cold on top of a coma too. Ruby would throws the empty guns at the passenger's seat's "feet" , and brush her hand against her eye while getting the car started. Half of her face was patterned of blood, but it didnt seem to get noticed by the woman herself. "How is he? How are you?" She shot Jacob a concerned glare through the rearview mirror, the car eating the street like a roadrunner.

Her sin: she couldnt stop caring. Loving them both unconditionally and without expecting anything in return, or caring if they liked it or not.

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Slaughter's House

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Hanging on the Hook

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Ruby Blackwood Jacob Pierce | muse | OUTFIT