Perdition-Last Chance [Open but you MUST read the first OOC post before hopping in]

[Drobabes]

https://i.imgur.com/ITpxHyF.jpg

(OOC link: http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?p=93872653#post93872653
Last thread link:http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=1509758)

A new day dawned for Perdition. The passage of time was difficult to grasp in this dreary wasteland, but of those inhabitants that were lucid enough to bring a drink to their lips, they knew. The dark stag had come and gone, seemingly having collected it's toll to take with it to the underground. Now, the bar seemed to be at ease once more. Warm for some, cold for others, but still a refuge from what waited outside the doors.

In the background, the jukebox played songs of it's own accord. It was as if the bar itself needed a bit of comforting after having come face to face with the dark spirit, and the tunes that drifted forth through the sweet air were warm, and soft.

 

[Drobabes]

River opened her eyes wide, looking around wildly and taking deep, gasping breaths. She was on her knees in the middle of an old road, the old concrete as cracked and crumbled as the decaying buildings around her. She knew where she was almost immediately, and as she tried to get herself up onto shaking legs, she started looking around for any familiar land marks that would tell her which direction to go.

The bar. She had to get back to the Dogskin; it was her only safe haven. River knew that that awful women was likely still waiting there; waiting to drag her back to that cruel room and cut her up so much that she succumbed to her injuries again, but even so. Even with that threat still a very real possibility, to be out here in the open filled her with more dread than trying to take her chances of hiding in the bar.

Seeing the crumbling remains of a chapel to her north, she took off towards it. She only slowed in her mad dash to stop and hide behind whatever barriers that she could find. Still standing walls, rusted vehicles, even the occasional dead tree would suffice. Anything to keep her out of sight...

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

"-unt, that's all you are, just a fucking cu-"

His voice cut off, as suddenly and sharply as it had appeared in this world, his words grabbed by the wind and carried away from him.

"The... fuck?" he muttered to himself, spinning in a slow circle where he stood. It felt like waking up from a dream, the memories of before fuzzy and hard to pin down and the now entirely foreign and jarring in it's suddenness. Looking down at himself, he found that the clothes matched what he remembered: dark pants, black shoes that had not been shined in their lifetime, a white button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, the red tie he wore loosened and the button over his throat opened. He'd been yelling at that fucking rat, Vivino, an upstart little prick who thought he had the balls to tell him how the girls should be treated. Did those sluts work for Vivino? Fuck no. When he grew some balls and had girls working for him, then he could decide how to treat them. Until then, the little fucker had nothing to say about the way that withholding little red head was treated. And what was he going to do about it, shoot him? He didn't have the-

That motherfucker shot me.

The realization of it came on suddenly, and he stumbled back a step, his hand moving to his chest, searching for a bullet hole where none was to be found. It didn't make sense, none of it made sense, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the gloomy light, trying to force his mind to focus. It didn't come in a rush of realization this time, but in a small stream of knowledge he knew he shouldn't have, things he had no way of knowing except that he knew he did. The dam broke when his eyes opened again, and he stared at the dim horizon.

"Fuck," he breathed in a half-whisper, "I'm dead."

Which left the question, then, of what this was. Not heaven, not any he had ever been told about, and anyway the somehow-knowledge in his mind told him that the place he stood was not heaven, but something very different. He began to scan around him again, searching the area he found himself in as if there might be a sign plunked down there just for him, declaring "WELCOME TO HELL, WE HOPE YOU HATE YOUR STAY" or something equally as absurd. But there was no sign, nothing spray painted on a wall, no pitchfork-wielding devil to welcome him to his eternal torture. It was almost as if he was alone, in fact, which was perhaps-

He blinked. Rubbed the heels of his hands into his dark eyes, before opening them to look again. He'd caught movement, a flash of red, so he quick he was almost sure he was seeing things until he spotted it again. A terrible grin found a home on his bearded face, and his fingers raked back through his close-cropped, dark hair.

"Well shit," he said aloud to himself as his eyes followed the girl's movements, seemingly moving station-to-station and trying to stay hidden, "Maybe this is heaven."

Victor Cash - "Like the money, baby," he used to say - was not a person deserving of heaven. In truth, he likely wasn't deserving of even this purgatory, but strange things happened when you made hard and fast rules and then tried to apply them to billions and billions of different people. Exceptions weren't made, maybe there wasn't even anyone around to decide to make them, but either way the result remained the same.

Vivino had killed Victor, probably killed him because he actually liked that redheaded whore, thought they could have a life together or some other pathetic fantasy, and so he had to stand up for her. Protect her. He thought he was avenging her, saving her, and maybe he was; the universe, it seemed, still held to Newton's Third Law, even in the aftermath. Vivino's whore was saved, what a goddamned hero, but her salvation meant peril for the girl Victor had his eyes on now. The monster had not been slain, he had simply been moved somewhere else. Given someone else to hold his attention.

Besides, he was dead! It was a terrible tragedy! Very sad. He was certainly heartbroken about it. What better way to soothe a wrong soul than between the willing legs of a girl. Or not willing, he wasn't picky.

But first, to get his hands on her.

Crouched low behind a shattered and crumbled segment of brick wall - was the afterlife in fucking Bosnia, he wondered to himself - Victor licked his lips and waited to see her moving again. As soon as he caught sight of her moving he was out and pushing hard, trying to close distance as quickly as he could before he needed to duck out of sight again. It was only a matter of time until his hands closed on her, and he wanted it to be a surprise when it happened. Seeing that mixture of surprise and fear in their eyes always made him hard.

 

[Drobabes]

Though the young women, (barely even a year past legal adulthood), was a new soul in Perdition, she was not ignorant to the dangers of her new 'home'. Time seemed to pass in strange ways in this realm, and though it had only been a few weeks, she had very quickly learned what it meant to be out in the open without something to protect yourself. The women was not the first to catch her. She had certainly been the cruelest thus far, but there had been others. Men and women alike who had tore the clothes from her flesh and used her supple body to sate their needs until they left her barely conscious on the hard ground, shivering and begging for mercy. Just move her; it was all she had asked. At least move her to a warm hole so that she could die with a bare minimum amount of comfort. They had laughed in her face and River had spent the night in the dreary wasteland plagued with nightmares and terror, and thoughts of revenge.

She had sought it out as well, not a mere two days later with the aid of a railroad spike on the end of a long rope. It had been a bloody and inexperienced battle, and after the first time she was killed, it only became harder to ignore the blood lust. She wanted them to suffer, to feel the pain that they had caused her, and without the be all end all repercussions of a real death, River foolishly believed that she could accomplish it if given enough time. However, on her fourth attempt, and perhaps because she had so easily been overpowered and overwhelmed each time before, something changed.

The young women had been on her way through the streets, looking for signs of their encampment, when a warm breeze blew across her skin. It was an impossible feeling. Or, at the very least, one that she had quickly come to accept would never happen in this dreary wasteland. Happen it had, however, and when she had dropped the spike on the ground and begun to follow it, a very overwhelming sense of calm had washed over her. By the time she had managed to find the Dogskin, she was a mess of tears and desperate to hear the song on the jukebox from inside those huge doors...

"Ah-!"

River had tripped over something. What it was, she didn't know, and it didn't matter. All she knew was that she had majorly almost fucked up with that half shout of surprise. She had cut it off, but had it been quick enough? Scrabbling to her knees again, she jerked her head first left, and then right, before letting out a shuttering breath and taking off once more. She made it to the chapel,



but did not stop running until she was further down the hall. It was only then that she finally came to a shaky stop, and her hands went to her knees as she caught her breathe.

Once she was able to at least swallow a few times, a shuddering sob left her lips and she stood up, wiping the corners of her eyes with one heel of her hand. She took a slow look around and then shakily dragged her aching legs over to one of the dirty and cracked benches. It was very unlikely that anyone would come to this god forsaken place, considering that most who were up to no good saw little point in visiting old churches, but she still took care. She reached the front bench, and then got down onto her hands and knees to crawl beneath it, and once there, she curled up in a little ball and began to silently weep.

Night would be falling soon, and the storms would come. She wanted nothing more than to return the warm embrace of her chosen room, but she knew it was too far to make the journey in the dark. She would have to wait for the storm to pass before she could even consider going out into the streets once more.