Post by Marcus Doom. on Jul 28, 2010 11:25:35 GMT -5
There was a certain chill to the night air as Marcus stood above the Muggle, wand pointed and face hard, unemotional one might say. Anyone that knew the man wouldn't be surprised to see such an uncaring expression spreading across his features. There weren't many things he cared about, and there were even fewer people that he cared for. Even when it came to pureblood Witches and Wizards, many were easily disposed of. He'd made sure his father died painfully, and that was his own flesh and blood, the man who had given him life, the man who had raised him, spoiled him, written him as the heir in his will. If he was so easy to get rid of, why shouldn't a friend be? An acquaintance? An employee? Some random person who's name he did not know? Muggles, though, were a different breed. He would hardly even call them human. They were so limited, so ignorant, so disgusting and foul. In the animal kingdom, animals often got rid of the weaker animals. Lions banished the older ones, wolves allowed the sick ones to leave the pack and wait for death to finally free them, mother birds pushed their babies out of the nest and if one didn't fly, they did not try to save them. It was the worlds way of keeping only the strong alive. What Marcus did was simply that. Eliminated the weak, so that the strong could thrive.
He wasn't there on a mission. If he were, he wouldn't be dressed so casually, the Muggles wouldn't have been able to see his face and he would have got the mission done quicker, with a precision that came from only the most proficient Death Eaters. He would've been there and gone before the animals could have uttered even a quick Please. He was there on his own free will, however. He was never a man to take too kindly to trespassing, that went without saying, and when he'd found out that the Mudblood had entered his home, appointed to do so by the Ministry of Magic, he'd been angered beyond belief. It would have been one thing if the man had been pure. Marcus might've let it go... might have. The idea of someone so repulsive rummaging through his home, however, made his temper uncontrollable. He had disposed of the unwanted visitor as soon as he'd come home, but he knew that his family still lived and that alone made his blood boil more. He'd sought them out. The lot of them. It was amazing how such poor families could fit in such a small house. Disgusting, really. Nine Muggles it had been. Five were still left before him. The place had only had two bedrooms and yet they'd still had four mutts wandering about. Mutts that Marcus had let out during his spontaneous entrance. Mutts that were now roaming the streets of London probably confused and trying to find their way back home. If they ever did, no one would be there anyway. What a pity.
The wind tugged at his shirt, making it nearly hug his features. His hair was being tossed in every crazy direction imaginable as the man before him begged for mercy. The other four still living clung to each other in front of a tombstone, praying that they'd get out of this alive, but aware that they wouldn't. Even if they tried to run, Marcus would kill them without warning, watching them drop like insects being gassed from a house. Just like he'd done to the mother and her child. "Please," the thing muttered, falling lower to the ground. "Haven't you done enough?" Marcus scowled at his pathetic attempts, shaking his head in disgust, speaking only one syllable, "No." The sound of footsteps behind him hit his ears as the wind blew stronger. Without turning his attention from the man, he spoke again, "Who's there? Show yourself now, or wind up like them,"
He wasn't there on a mission. If he were, he wouldn't be dressed so casually, the Muggles wouldn't have been able to see his face and he would have got the mission done quicker, with a precision that came from only the most proficient Death Eaters. He would've been there and gone before the animals could have uttered even a quick Please. He was there on his own free will, however. He was never a man to take too kindly to trespassing, that went without saying, and when he'd found out that the Mudblood had entered his home, appointed to do so by the Ministry of Magic, he'd been angered beyond belief. It would have been one thing if the man had been pure. Marcus might've let it go... might have. The idea of someone so repulsive rummaging through his home, however, made his temper uncontrollable. He had disposed of the unwanted visitor as soon as he'd come home, but he knew that his family still lived and that alone made his blood boil more. He'd sought them out. The lot of them. It was amazing how such poor families could fit in such a small house. Disgusting, really. Nine Muggles it had been. Five were still left before him. The place had only had two bedrooms and yet they'd still had four mutts wandering about. Mutts that Marcus had let out during his spontaneous entrance. Mutts that were now roaming the streets of London probably confused and trying to find their way back home. If they ever did, no one would be there anyway. What a pity.
The wind tugged at his shirt, making it nearly hug his features. His hair was being tossed in every crazy direction imaginable as the man before him begged for mercy. The other four still living clung to each other in front of a tombstone, praying that they'd get out of this alive, but aware that they wouldn't. Even if they tried to run, Marcus would kill them without warning, watching them drop like insects being gassed from a house. Just like he'd done to the mother and her child. "Please," the thing muttered, falling lower to the ground. "Haven't you done enough?" Marcus scowled at his pathetic attempts, shaking his head in disgust, speaking only one syllable, "No." The sound of footsteps behind him hit his ears as the wind blew stronger. Without turning his attention from the man, he spoke again, "Who's there? Show yourself now, or wind up like them,"
