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“And for my next trick! I will make the citizens of Robloxia, DISAPPEAR!!”
Artful had a horrible temper. This was no secret. Not to Artful, not to anyone that knew him personally. Even some of his fans, who only understood Artful at a surface level at best, picked up on this.
Artful knew he had a temper, but to him, there was nothing wrong with that.
Of course other people don’t see it that way, so he tries to keep it under wraps, but if it were up to him? Artful can snap at whoever he likes. He can yell, throw, scream, so what? They deserved it.
They all deserved it. It’s not Artful’s fault he gets angry, it’s their fault for prompting such a strong reaction out of him. He’s just reacting accordingly to whatever the people around him do.
He works hard, harder than anyone else. Artful shouldn’t have to be the fool in a room full of talentless- magic-less civilians.
Artful has a right to yell at and push away idiot civilians when they insist on annoying him and getting in his way.
And when they mess up his carefully planned show.
Artful has the right to kill.
…
But did he really have to do all of that?
Artful found himself asking this question increasingly more often as of late. Especially now, running through the forest- clutching his bleeding arm- trying to dodge and weave and lose that infuriating group of Gunslingers, Artful finds himself wondering if it was all worth it.
Part of him thinks back to his parents. They would be so disappointed in him. That life of luxury he left behind, he’ll never get it back now.
He thinks back to his number one fan. Instantly, shame boiled over in his gut.
“Putain….” Artful stumbled as his body threatened to betray him and force him to regurgitate out what little food he had in his stomach.
Artful was certain of one thing and one thing only, he didn’t regret a single thing…
…except for them. Artful regretted them.
Artful finally collapsed onto his knees. He was certain that he had finally shaken off the group of Gunslingers that was chasing him.
Everyone in that room deserved to die except for them. But when Artful jumped off that stage, the first thing he remembered doing was driving his wand into their skull.
N1 was the flaw in Artful’s philosophy. This idea that everything is everyone else’s fault doesn’t apply to them.
Not when N1 was there for all his shows. Showed him support. Artful remembered getting his first bouquet of flowers from them. And how did he repay their kindness? With death: the most brutal kind.
Artful tightly gripped the grass underneath his hands and between his fingers. His jaw clenched and his teeth grinded together.
N1’s death is a source of great shame to Artful. It should provide him with some grand revelation and inspire change and embarrassment in him. Artful knows this. He knows he should stop killing. It’s the right thing to do.
He should finally own up to his actions. Stop going around and creating more ‘N1s’ everywhere he goes. He needs to finally acknowledge that he made a mistake.
But he simply doesn’t.
Because killing just felt so good.
“I’m really going to throw up.” He thought to himself, but he managed to push it back. Artful should feel ashamed of himself. He’s not an idiot! In fact- Artful thinks he’s smarter than most people. Artful is the smartest person he knows!
He knows he should feel shame. He knows what he should do and what would happen if he did it. He knows what the smart and ultimately right decision is.
But he simply doesn’t do it.
And Artful, being the genius he is, knows why he doesn’t do it. Which is all the more reason for him to just suck it up and turn himself in- stop himself from going down this dark path-
But he doesn’t.
…
The chirping of nearby birds snaps Artful out of his spiral. Artful lifts his head to see the sun is about to set. Beautiful golden rays shine through the leaves and warm Artful’s cold runny makeup. In this moment, Artful thinks to himself,
“It’s almost worth it.” Artful takes a moment to collect himself. He gets up with a sigh and looks around.
“The sun is setting in the west. If I go east maybe I can get home.” Artful figured he wasn’t too far from his cabin. He always prided himself on his acute sense of direction- among his many other gifts.
And so he walked. The sun provided a much welcome source of warmth for Artful, who was feeling a bit cold. Probably due to the approaching winter.
Or probably because he lost a good amount of blood.
A cold breeze forced Artful to tuck himself a little deeper into his coat. Very soon it was going to snow, and when it did, Artful would need to have enough food in storage to withstand the harsh season.
“C’est naze…” Was it too much to ask for a convenience store to be conveniently in the woods near where Artful was hiding out? He knew he was already lucky enough to find a well insulated and fairly well kept cabin in the woods for him to plunder and take as his own, but it never hurts to ask for more in life.
Artful arrived back home right as it was about to get too dark for him to see. He knew he was right to trust his gut.
With some effort, Artful wrestled open the door.
“Those hinges really need to be oiled up.” But Artful wouldn’t waste something as precious as cooking oil for a dumb door hinge.
The sounds of pots and pans clattering emitted from the kitchen, and an empty bowl ominously rolled out into the hallway. Artful grabbed a hold of his wand and quietly made his way to…
“Mon dieu! Pursuer!”
Right, the giant apex predator. How could Artful forget about his very dangerous, human-eating roommate?
Artful scratched his head using the blunt end of his wand as he watched Pursuer sift through the cabinets. He wondered if it was a mistake, letting the monster stay with him. After Pursuer had gotten particularly mangled up when both him and Artful were killing civilians together, Artful offered to treat some of his wounds. That led to Artful leading Pursuer to his home, a decision that had way more consequences than Artful initially thought about.
“Hey, Monstre. There are no snacks in there. We’ve run low.” Pursuer paid no mind.
“He doesn’t even eat human food. Why is he digging in there in the first place then?” Right as Artful was about to step in, a shrill squeak came from the cabinet Pursuer was digging himself into. Pursuer pulled his head out, and in his mouth, was a mouse.
A tiny thing, but Pursuer seemed pleased with his catch. He placed the nearby pots and pans he had knocked out back where they belonged. Once he was done he got up and walked past Artful, presumably to the couch in the living room.
“Well, I suppose he’s good for pest control if anything.” Artful looked around the kitchen.
“…And at least he cleaned up after himself. Sort of.” He let out a sigh and started walking towards his bedroom. He still needed to clean up this wound, lest Pursuer finish his snack and decide Artful smells delicious.
Pursuer was a strange thing. Artful knew the beast understood English, he knew that Pursuer was capable of speaking English, but he almost never does.
It’s not like Pursuer’s English is broken or anything either. The few times Pursuer spoke in one-worded replies or short phrases or sentences, his pronunciation was perfectly fine. Of course, he still sounds a bit rough around the edges, but Pursuer has never had trouble identifying the words he wants to say, which leads Artful to believe the monster actually has a strong grasp on the language.
He just doesn’t use it. He’d much rather use body language, growls, and gestures to get what he wants.
“Maybe speaking is uncomfortable for him,” Artful considered.
“…Or maybe he just likes being petty and difficult.”
Artful decided the latter was more realistic.
Artful let out a hiss as he tightened the bandage around his arm.
“There.” He said with a triumphant smile.
…
Days, nights, weeks past. The brunt end of winter was coming soon, and honestly? Artful couldn’t wait.
Just one more run of supplies and Artful should have absolutely no problem lasting through the winter. He wouldn’t have to go out as often. He could stay home, sit by the fireplace, and do nothing.
That was the promise he made to himself. Doing nothing would be good for him. He would get injured less, he would be able to lay low and stay safe, and more importantly-
He would kill less.
It suddenly hit Artful, the true weight of what he has done.
It’s one thing to raid a store or steal and loot.
It’s another thing to go into a house, kill the civilians living there- and for what? A box of canned foods? Clothes and money? He could get that using less brutal methods.
He didn’t have to dirty his wand, his clothes, and strew these people’s guts over the walls for that.
Standing in the ruined hallway filled with blood, guts, and corpses, now more than ever, Artful’s resolution seemed more and more critical. Although most of the mess was from Pursuer, who was delightfully sitting in the middle of the hall, eating, Artful couldn’t deny his part in creating the massacre.
Shame bubbled up in Artful’s chest and he clutched his shirt. His other hand, which still gripped his blood-soaked wand, twitched with the desire to drive his weapon back into the already brutalized corpses. But he repressed it, and focused on that shame, on his sadness, he let himself spiral. He let his vision get more and more blurry. He let his tears ruin his already ruined makeup. Even though Pursuer, who noticed Artful’s sniffling, looked back to sneer at him in disgust.
“This is good.” Artful thinks to himself. Shame keeps him alive. It’s what separates him from animals like Pursuer. As long as Artful feels shame, there is still hope for him. He can still improve and get that ‘good ending’ he deserves. He can still preserve himself and do the right thing.
He just has to make it through the winter.
…
“Could you just kill it already?” Artful snapped harshly as he stood over Pursuer. They were in the forest area in front of their cabin. The monster gnawed on the leg of a deer. The poor animal was still alive and twitching. Too hurt to fight back, too healthy to die.
Pursuer let out a growl and tore off a thin strip of skin and muscle, causing the deer to twitch violently, not breaking eye contact with Artful for a single second. Artful felt his face involuntarily twitch with rage. This thing was trying to spite him.
For a minute, the two stared at each other, both unmoving. Then suddenly, Pursuer lunged forward which prompted Artful to jump back. But he didn’t lunge for Artful, instead, it was for the deer.
Pursuer’s jaws clamped around its neck and tore it open with one violent jerk. The animal immediately fell still. Pursuer grinned up at Artful, teeth still bloody and full of gore, as if to say, ‘Happy?’
“Répugnant.” Artful spat out. He felt humiliated by how easily startled he was and how fearfully he reacted. Pursuer didn’t seem to like that response however. He dung his mouth deeply into the deer’s neck, gathered up some blood and-
Artful saw it coming but didn’t have the time to react. Pursuer spat at Artful, he spat all over his face. Blood. All over his face.
“AGH! PUTAIN DE MERDE!” Artful immediately brought both his hands up to wipe away the disgusting mixture of saliva and animal blood off his face.
“Dégage!” Artful growled out. He grabbed his wand and raised it up, ready to strike Pursuer right in between his eyes, only to stop when he saw Pursuer’s expression.
The monster was on all fours, muscles tensed like it was ready to spring forward at any moment, but that’s not what made Artful stop. Pursuer had a fanatical smile splitting his face in half. Both his eyes and mouth were blown so wide open that Artful could count every tiny vein and tooth. Artful came to the sickening realization that,
“He wants this.” Artful forced himself to lower his arm and stomp away. Pursuer wanted to rile him up, he wanted Artful to strike so he could maul and tear the magician to pieces. At this moment Artful wanted nothing more than to rip one of the nearby trees from out the ground and throw it towards the general direction of where the monster was still eating.
Pursuer wants Artful angry. He wants Artful outraged and irritated. He loves toying with the human- probably because he is aware that he could easily overpower Artful. Mighty as his magic may be, all it takes is for Pursuer to pin Artful down with his size and strength, and Artful is done for.
If there was one thing Artful hated the most in all of existence, it is feeling weak and inferior.
Pursuer seemed to know this, of course he did, he was an apex predator. He probably perceived this weakness of Artful a long time ago. That’s why he is doing this, he knows how to toy with the Frenchman and he loves pushing his buttons.
…
Artful couldn’t get a single day of peace from the monstre. Every cup knocked over, every bump and mess made by Pursuer simply fueled Artful’s rage even more. It kept building up and collecting until rage was the only thing he could feel.
When Artful woke up his hands would subconsciously grip at his sheets and blankets. When he got dressed he always had his wand in hand, held tight with an iron clasp. His posture was taller and straighter, his muscles always tensed in some way.
Rage pooled in Artful’s hands which itched to lash out and strangle the nearest living thing. Rage sullied every thought that crossed his mind. Rage flew out from the tips of his hair and blew out every pore on his skin.
The terrible weather outside wasn’t helping either. For multiple days on end he has been forced inside due to terrible snow and storming. Artful felt like an animal in a cage. No- not just an animal in a cage;
An animal in a cage with an annoying roommate. Pursuer wasn’t the fan of the weather either, so he would drag his kills inside the house. Rabbits, squirrels, deer, sometimes the game is already so mutilated Artful can’t really tell what it is. Sometimes it’s only a limb or bone he’s gnawing on.
Artful has no idea where the hell he is finding all this ‘fresh meat.’ All he knows is that Pursuer is making a mess of their living room and stinking up the whole house while he’s at it!
And he was doing it on purpose! Every time he goes downstairs, Pursuer goes out of his way to make eye contact with the magician, as if he wants to make sure Artful sees how much of a mess he is making.
Well too bad for Pursuer, if it’s a reaction he wants, Artful won’t give it. He’s already acclimated to the sight gore and the smell of rot.
…
“Artful looks great.” Pursuer was curled up on the couch, mindlessly gnawing away on a femur bone with a grin on his face.
“And it’s all thanks to me.” The monster proudly thought to himself.
Months ago, when Pursuer first stumbled upon Artful, Artful was pathetic. He killed like a predator, but cried like prey.
During rounds, Pursuer could practically smell Artful’s fear and anxiety. That stench, combined with the horrendous paste on his face, repulsed Pursuer.
The suffocating fear, the paint stench, the grating crying, the useless pity, and the irritating doubt- it was getting intolerable. Artful was a civilian killing civilians, and the magician needed to pick a side. He could either slaughter civilians like a predator, or Pursuer could eat him like the prey he was. Forget about the makeup, Pursuer was willing to bet the magician didn’t cover his entire body with that disgusting spread. And if he did, Pursuer would just use his claws instead.
He was about to lose his patience with the French civilian, when he saw Artful acting strangely.
Not strangely in the way that Artful shouldn’t be acting this way, but strangely in the way that Artful had never acted like this before.
The way his eyes and brows were narrowed in hate, the way his fists were clenched, the way his voice was raised, the way his foot broke through what used to be the that banana civilian’s head-
Pursuer had never seen anything like it.
“Now that’s more like it.” That’s what Artful should be.
Ruthless, unforgiving, a killer.
Strong. Unstoppable.
Unfortunately after his tiny episode, Artful returned to his usual boring demeanor. He showed his usual horror and regret after his energy ran out and Pursuer quickly left to avoid dealing with the waterworks.
However Pursuer’s interest was piqued now, piqued enough to decide to not maul the man on sight anymore- even if he continued to be pathetic.
“Maybe it was all an act.” But there was undeniably something underneath Artful, and Pursuer wanted to dig it out. Doing it manually- taking off his mask, paint, and skin- probably wouldn’t end well or give Pursuer the results he wanted, so the monster was stumped. He didn’t know what to do from here, how to approach it. And just when he thought he’d never get to see that other Artful again-
“Could you just kill it already?”
Pursuer froze. Not because he was afraid of Artful, or listening to his demand (as if that small human had any real authority over him), but because he was shocked.
The way Artful looked was so familiar yet so new. Pursuer narrowed his eyes to try and get a better read underneath that annoying hat and mask.
“Could it be?” Is this the Artful Pursuer had been looking for? It looks similar enough, sounds like it too. But it’s still not him. Pursuer let out a small growl in frustration.
“It’s right there. Just underneath. How to coax it out…” Pursuer was sure if Artful would just let him peel back that first layer of skin, Pursuer would be able to see that day’s version of Artful again.
“What was Artful like when he killed that banana?” Angry, outraged, humiliated, taunted. Artful can’t stand it when his plans fail, his setups go to waste, and his traps get destroyed. Maybe if Pursuer did the same and refused Artful, he could get that out of him.
“No, he’d just walk away.” Well then, maybe Pursuer could do what Artful told him to do, but in a way that weak side of him obviously wouldn’t like. So he put down his prey, messily, ruthlessly, painfully. The plan worked, Artful didn’t leave and was noticeably more irritated after unwillingly taking in the sight of the kill.
But it’s not enough. Artful is angry, irritated, but he’s still not what Pursuer wants him to be: a killer. How to force it out of him? Push him over the edge. Pursuer failed to force back a smile.
Humiliation.
“AGH! PUTAIN DE MERDE!”
Pursuer’s heart raced, blood rushed up to his face and roared in his ears. His pupils dilated and his tail started thumping the ground.
There he is. Pursuer eyed Artful’s raised attack. This was so thrilling. Pursuer had never felt this excited about anything, not about food, killing, sleeping, nothing could ever top this high.
But just as the high came, it quickly died down. Artful lowered his wand and Pursuer disengaged.
“A failure.” The monster grunted in disappointment as he leaned down to continue his dinner.
However, Pursuer noticed…
when Artful walked away, he wasn’t sad or regretful.
He was still angry.
And he was angry for the rest of the night.
And he continued being angry, Pursuer made sure of it.
It was for the best. Artful was much better off now. He no longer walked slumped over, he was much more alert, and every action he did had more force behind it now. Artful wasn’t just more intimidating now, he was physically stronger and sharper.
The bone cracked and shattered in Pursuer’s jaw.
He was such a good roommate.
…
“PURSUER!!!”
Artful roared out into the empty forest. He could barely recognize his own voice. His voice- normally smooth and composed like any professional performer- now torn into pieces and dripping with murderous intent.
“That fucking bastard…” Artful growled out. His breathing came out as ragged and broken, he could see puffs of his voice in the cold winter air. Artful barely managed to pull a thick winter coat and boots onto himself storming out of the house. He didn’t even do his hair properly yet, strands of it mockingly waved in front of his face and stuck to his fresh facepaint.
“MONSTRE!! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! You think you can trash my house and get away with it?! I’LL KILL YOU!”
The snow crunched under Artful’s boot as he stomped forward. His blood was boiling, any snowflake that touched him probably evaporated on contact. Wind howled around him, but Artful didn’t feel cold in the slightest. Part of him admired how powerful he felt, not even the weather dared to touch him.
When Artful got up, he didn’t realize anything was wrong at first. He put on his suit, painted his face, but when he went down to get a drink.
Trashed. The entire kitchen was trashed. Cans crushed open, flour and sugar spilled on the ground, Artful’s carefully collected stash for the winter had been cut in third.
“Oomph!” Artful collapsed into the snow. The cold coming into contact with Artful’s face sobered him up slightly. Artful realized he couldn’t feel his feet. He looked down and realized the winter boots he put on weren’t winter boots at all. They were a set of his performing boots, not waterproof, and certainly not made for running through nearly half a foot of snow.
Looks like he wasn’t as untouchable to the weather as he thought. Artful cursed and pushed himself up. The cold was beginning to creep underneath his gloves and numbing the tips of his fingers.
Fuck, where was he? He was so caught up in his anger he wasn’t keeping track of where he was running and how far he was going. He could’ve run a mile away from his cabin for all he knew!!
Artful pushed himself up and-
*BANG*
The snow in front of Artful burst open. Artful scrambled backwards. A bullet- a gunshot-
“HEY!”
A growl escaped Artful’s throat. He could recognize that self righteousness tone anywhere. A Revolver.
Artful quickly jumped up and gripped his wand. The revolver may have missed their first shot, but Artful won’t get so lucky next time.
He rounded the first set of trees and spotted the human pressed up against a trunk. Their hands shook as they tried shoving more ammunition into their gun.
The Revolver didn’t notice Artful running up to them until it was too late. Their eyes widened and their body locked up in fear.
“W-WAIT!” The butt of Artful’s want crashed into the side of their jaw with a sickening *crunch*. The gun, along with the boxes of ammunition, flew out their hands and disappeared into the thick snow.
The Revolver fell sideways onto the ground and spat out some blood. Their crooked (most likely broken) jaw limply hung open. Artful planted his foot on their head.
“Not so mighty now without your gun are you, cochon?” Artful mocked. He felt a smile creep up on his face, his eyes widened to take in more of the scene he was creating.
Revolver let out a strangled cry before his skull caved in. Artful’s foot plunged into the cavern of their skull, brutalizing their brain and sending blood and tissue flying in all directions.
Just as Artful was going to stop and savor the sight, he heard a set of civilian footsteps not far away. Then another, then another.
Not just a set of footsteps, multiple of them. There were more.
“Putain…” Artful grumbled to himself. Had he really run so far that he accidentally wandered too close to civilian civilization? Artful scanned the forest around him; it was only barely snowing, but it was still hard to see through the tree lines.
“HEY! COME GET SOME YOU FUCKING WUSS!” Artful jumped and instinctively swung in the direction of the nuisance, just to miss the Taunt by inches.
The sneaky fucker managed to sneak up on Artful and yell directly in his ear. Artful’s head was ringing and throbbing, what a drag.
Taunt seemed awfully proud of themselves. They were grinning ear to ear and beckoning Artful forward with a finger.
“Come on sourpuss! Come at me!”
Artful growled. They were so full of shit; Artful couldn’t wait to gut it all out of them.
Artful swung his wand, only for it to be blocked by the civilian. The two exchanged blows, neither making full contact with the other. The civilian fought with a shiftless smug grin on their face, while Artful remained composed. Taunt clearly wasn’t strong enough to handle a one-on-one fight with Artful or land any real hits, but Artful wasn’t fast enough to keep up with their evasions. They were at a stalemate.
That was- until Taunt got a little smart. They managed to intercept one of Artful’s swings and knock his wand away.
“HA-“ But their attempt at gloating left them open. Artful extended two fingers and thrusted them forward,
Aiming for the eyes.
Artful hit true, his cold, half numbed fingers slipped into the searing warmth of Taunt’s eye sockets. Taunt screamed. They tried pulling away, but Artful stomped on their foot, trapping them. He then curled his fingers inward. Artful now had a death grip on the human.
“AGHH!! STOP! STOP!! LET GO ME- LET GO-“
“What an annoying voice. Arrête ça.” Artful used his other hand to grip the bottom half of Taunt’s jaw. He steadied his grip on their skull with his other hand, still buried in their eyes-
And pulled.
Taunt’s head split into two; it was like opening a present. Artful discarded the separated jawbone and let the civilian fall backwards into the snow, where they would choke on their own blood and die.
“Now, where is my wand?” Artful calmly thought to himself as he scanned the snow. He quickly spotted it in the corner of his vision: half buried and still visible. But when Artful turned to go grab it, he was met with something cold, disgusting, and repulsive stuck to his face…
A banana.
… A banana?
A BANANA?!
The Banana Peel lowered their canon. They opened their mouth to say something but quickly turned pale when they saw what fate befelled their friend.
Nothing but a shocked whimper twisted its way out of their mouth.
And soon, that will be the last thing that will ever come out of them.
“MOURIR!!”
Artful scooped up his wand and lunged at the Banana Peel. They crashed into each other. Artful pinned the Banana Peel down, sitting on their chest.
“MOURIR!!” Artful’s fist broke that yellow clown nose he detested so much.
“MOURIR!!” Artful shoved his wand right into the clown’s mouth. Again, and again. Breaking teeth, dislocating jaw-
“MOURIR!! STUPIDE FILS DE PUTE!” Before finally finishing them off by cracking their skull open like an egg with a blow from his wand to their forehead.
“Ah…ha…ha…” Artful was shaking. He felt a giggle build up in his chest and burst out his mouth as a laugh.
“HAHAHAHA!” Artful was really going insane now wasn’t he? He certainly felt like it. Artful leaned over the Banana Peel’s ruined face.
“Fantastic…” He murmured. Now this was art! Artful took a deep breath in, but before he could get up and compose himself, he was struck on the side of his face and sent flying to the side.
Artful felt like he had been hit by a truck. The world around him spun. His wand slipped out his hand and got lost in the snow- again.
“Merde…” Artful groggily cursed to himself. Who-
“Disgusting.” The person spat out. Artful immediately felt irritated. How dare this person spit down at Artful like he’s nothing.
Another civilian. Artful only counted three pairs of footsteps earlier. Either this one was part of that group of three Artful just killed and simply decided to stay behind, or they were a new arrival. Either way, they managed to get the sneak in on Artful.
Artful felt a forearm press against the bottom of his chin, crushing his throat.
“You’re a monster. Look at what you did…” They hissed out. Artful rolled his eyes. Just listening to their voice was grating. So annoyingly calm with a hint of cold fury, was Artful meant to find this intimidating?
Artful’s vision stopped blurring enough for him to get a good view of who his assailant was. Black gloves and a black bandanna. A Punch with a dash talent. That explains how they managed to run up to Artful so quickly without him hearing.
Artful tried gasping for air. He was pinned down in a bad position. This civilian was significantly bigger than him, stronger.
Artful managed to push their arm up slightly, reducing the pressure forced on his throat. But the Punch quickly noticed their grip on Artful slipping and they quickly retaliated.
The two wrestled, rolling around and kicking up snow. Punch managed to flip Artful onto his stomach and wrangled him into a chokehold, pushing Artful down with their full weight.
“Dégage! Piss off- mmph!!” The Punch brought their hand up to cover Artful’s mouth.
A mistake. This civilian knew how to fight- well so did Artful- but Artful wasn’t afraid to fight dirty. Artful thrashed and pulled his face away, the moment his mouth was freed he opened it as wide as he could…
And bit down on their hand.
Artful wasn’t really paying attention to where he was biting. He was planning on maybe digging into their palm, but when he lowered his head he felt a finger poke the inside of his cheeks.
And when he closed his jaw he felt a wet *crunch* between his teeth. Warm blood flooded his mouth, and the moment it did, Artful yanked his head to the side. Punch’s hand retracted but the mass between Artful’s teeth stayed.
Punch yelled something out, but Artful paid no mind. The pain forced them to briefly pull back in shock, that window was all Artful needed to push them off of him.
Artful rolled up onto his feet. Punch also scrambled up, they held onto their bleeding hand. Their pointer finger was gone and currently sitting in Artful’s mouth.
And Artful wasn’t sure what prompted him to do it. He was hungry, he hadn’t eaten breakfast before charging out into the snow. He was angry, angry at Pursuer, at these civilians for ruining his day.
He was estatic, he was on a high after killing those three civilians with little help from his magic. Artful licked the blood off his lips and grinned at Punch. He made sure they saw exactly what he was going to do next: Artful opened his mouth and bit down as hard as he could on what was left of their finger, pulverizing it into mush.
And then he swallowed.
“W-what the fuck…” Artful heard the person mutter under their breath. Artful felt satisfied, finally that ‘tough guy’ persona was starting to crumble.
For a moment, neither moved. Artful could see the Punch thinking, weighing their options, before ultimately deciding they wanted out.
They tried dashing away, but the snow hindered their movement. Artful grabbed his fallen wand and threw it as hard as he could. It crashed into the tree in front of where the civilian was trying to run. They let out a yelp and stumbled back, and that was all the time Artful needed to close the distance.
Artful grappled them onto the ground, aiming blows at their face to disorient them, but the civilian just raised their arms up to block all the hits. The few punches that did land did little good. Punch was strong enough to not get knocked around as easily as the previous civilians.
“All that muscle is really annoying…” Artful internally snarled. Punch tried wiggling out, they kicked at the snow and ground, trying to push out from under Artful, but Artful held on tight.
Artful’s punches weren’t doing anything, he needed something sharp.
Finally, they lowered their arms to try and get extra leverage to escape. Artful didn’t miss a beat. One hand immediately grabbed and held down their wrist, the other flew up to push their head to the side and pry their neck open. Artful had a perfect opening.
His teeth sank into the civilian’s neck.
Immediately, the human started thrashing and yelling.
“AGHH!! WHAT THE FUCK?!?! WHAT THE FUCK!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Punch tried to kick Artful off but failed. The resistance only forced Artful to bite down harder.
Then, Artful started pulling.
Punch’s fists banged against the side of Artful’s face and skull, but none of it was enough to deter him.
An anguished cry strangled out of Punch’s chest before, finally, the resistance that met Artful’s bite gave out.
The civilian let out a pained gurgle and tried crawling away one last time, but they only moved an inch before falling limp.
Every nearby surface was covered in red. The front of Artful’s suit was completely drenched. Blood covered Artful like a warm blanket.
And Artful just sat there.
“Hah…hah…ah…” Artful’s breaths came out breathless.
He must’ve stayed like that for at least ten minutes.
Snow was starting to gather on his hat. The crimson liquid that used to provide him warmth was now sucking the heat out of him.
Artful slowly grabbed the chunk of meat in his mouth and took it out. He felt thirsty. His mouth was unpleasantly sticky and dry. Artful stared down at the long stripe of flesh. For a second- he briefly considered it- but then he decided it didn’t look very appetizing.
Artful looked behind him.
“Ah, Pursuer. Salutations…”
The apex predator simply stood there, a few feet away.
“Il fait beau aujourd'hui…” Artful mumbled and looked down at the piece of human flesh in his hand. He extended his hand towards Pursuer, offering him the piece of meat.
Stillness.
Then, Pursuer dropped onto all fours and slowly stalked over.
Pursuer got close to Artful- really close. Their faces were less than two inches from touching. Artful couldn’t help but stare in the creature’s eyes.
“Beau…” Artful couldn’t help but think that.
Pursuer raised a claw, but instead of taking the meat, he pushed it away.
Pursuer cupped Artful’s outreached hand and gently brought it up towards his mouth. Artful didn’t resist, he absentmindedly let Pursuer guide his movements. Half dazed, he opened his mouth and started eating.
Pursuer kept Artful’s hand pressed against his mouth as the magician ate. Pressing harder and harder, forcing the meat into Artful’s mouth every time he took a bite.
“Mmh- mph-“ Artful wasn’t sure when he closed his eyes, but he did. Pursuer kept pushing forward harder and harder, getting more and more insistent despite the food growing smaller and smaller. Even when there was nothing left, Pursuer did not falter.
“Alright- enough, Pursuer. Cesse ça.” Artful gently pried Pursuer’s hand away. The monster let out a low purr before crawling towards the other corpses.
Artful shivered. His senses were slowly returning and Artful was freezing. He pulled himself up from the cooling dead body and brushed the snow off his hat and shoulders.
“Merde… I probably look a mess.” But that thought didn’t bother Artful as much as he thought it would.
After retrieving his wand (again), Artful walked up behind Pursuer, who was poking and picking at the fallen Banana Peel. Pursuer looked back at Artful, then at the dead bodies. He let out a low rumbling noise that resembled something along the lines of a purr of approval.
Pursuer dragged three of the dead bodies by their ankles. Artful nudged the dead Punch civilian’s head with his foot before kneeling down to sling the dead civilian over his shoulder.
The two killers started trekking back to their cabin.
“Looks like we’re set for the winter, huh Pursuer?”
The monster let out a small laugh.