Nolan's shoes clicked against the shiny black floors, absentmindedly twirling the revolver in one hand. He stared around the cavernous hallway. It wasn't the fanciest place he'd ever been, nor was it the most impressive, but it was certainly classy. He muttered a spell to himself, and all the lights flicked off. The utter darkness brought an ominous feeling to the room and a smile to Nolan's face.
With each step up the stairs, a new scenario of the Whelans' death popped into his head. He hadn't killed anyone in ages, and he was excited. Nolan stopped halfway across the upstairs hallway when muffled notes reached his ear. It wasn't professional level, but he respected the effort, and it wasn't so bad it was offensive. He decided to let whoever was in that room live, make the murder just that much classier.
A loud bark echoed from the other side of him, and without a second thought he shot out a silencing spell. Nolan's eyes scanned the heavily guarded door, making sure the dog was securely tied. He was tempted to break into the room just for the sake of pissing off it's owner, but he couldn't afford to linger for too long. The sedatives on the manor's staff would only last for so long. He put away his wand for a moment to stock the gun with his special brand of bullets. The red ones.
He brought his ear to the door, just to be sure they were really asleep. One hand turned the latch without making a sound, casting a sliver of light across the room. He paused again, waiting for any sounds of shifting fabric. Advancing into the room, his eyes made out two figures in a large bed. Nolan frowned, "Asleep are we?" he aimed his gun at one of the figures, "Shame. I'd hate to see you die in peace."
A sharp "click" came from the revolver, and a couple of seconds later he heard noises coming from the bed as its occupants arose. Almost immediately, a soft shriek echoed around the large room, and a masculine voice growled,
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? Get that filthy muggle weapon out of my house." He was impressed by how much the man was holding back his fear, but his voice still shook just the slightest bit.
Nolan smirked, "Oh, come on. You're not even going to beg for mercy?" The man didn't move. "Well, alright," he replied with a shrug, pulling the trigger. The only sound that came from the gun was a short puffing noise, and a crack as the bullet broke though a shield charm. The man cried out when it hit him in the arm.
The man's cry turned into a laugh, "Let me give you a piece of advice," the skin around his wound began to glow, illuminating the inside of his arm, making every little vein visible underneath the skin, "Before you go and try to shoot someone. LEARN TO FUCKING AI-" Before he had the chance to finish his thought, Ahern Whelan burst into a pile of ash. The woman next to him screamed.
"Madame, if you would be so kind as to lower your voice," he said with a pained frown, pointing the revolver at her, "I get enough headaches as it is." Tears began to fall down her face, and he cocked the gun,
"Please. I-I have children. Who's going to take care of them if I die?" He raised an eyebrow at her, relishing the clear anguish in her voice. It was the women who were the most fun to kill. They were always so good at pleading for their lives.
"Something tells me they're not who you're really worried about," Nolan shot the gun a second time. Eithne Whelan screamed for the remaining five seconds of her life. Nolan grinned as he watched her instantaneous cremation.
With each step up the stairs, a new scenario of the Whelans' death popped into his head. He hadn't killed anyone in ages, and he was excited. Nolan stopped halfway across the upstairs hallway when muffled notes reached his ear. It wasn't professional level, but he respected the effort, and it wasn't so bad it was offensive. He decided to let whoever was in that room live, make the murder just that much classier.
A loud bark echoed from the other side of him, and without a second thought he shot out a silencing spell. Nolan's eyes scanned the heavily guarded door, making sure the dog was securely tied. He was tempted to break into the room just for the sake of pissing off it's owner, but he couldn't afford to linger for too long. The sedatives on the manor's staff would only last for so long. He put away his wand for a moment to stock the gun with his special brand of bullets. The red ones.
He brought his ear to the door, just to be sure they were really asleep. One hand turned the latch without making a sound, casting a sliver of light across the room. He paused again, waiting for any sounds of shifting fabric. Advancing into the room, his eyes made out two figures in a large bed. Nolan frowned, "Asleep are we?" he aimed his gun at one of the figures, "Shame. I'd hate to see you die in peace."
A sharp "click" came from the revolver, and a couple of seconds later he heard noises coming from the bed as its occupants arose. Almost immediately, a soft shriek echoed around the large room, and a masculine voice growled,
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? Get that filthy muggle weapon out of my house." He was impressed by how much the man was holding back his fear, but his voice still shook just the slightest bit.
Nolan smirked, "Oh, come on. You're not even going to beg for mercy?" The man didn't move. "Well, alright," he replied with a shrug, pulling the trigger. The only sound that came from the gun was a short puffing noise, and a crack as the bullet broke though a shield charm. The man cried out when it hit him in the arm.
The man's cry turned into a laugh, "Let me give you a piece of advice," the skin around his wound began to glow, illuminating the inside of his arm, making every little vein visible underneath the skin, "Before you go and try to shoot someone. LEARN TO FUCKING AI-" Before he had the chance to finish his thought, Ahern Whelan burst into a pile of ash. The woman next to him screamed.
"Madame, if you would be so kind as to lower your voice," he said with a pained frown, pointing the revolver at her, "I get enough headaches as it is." Tears began to fall down her face, and he cocked the gun,
"Please. I-I have children. Who's going to take care of them if I die?" He raised an eyebrow at her, relishing the clear anguish in her voice. It was the women who were the most fun to kill. They were always so good at pleading for their lives.
"Something tells me they're not who you're really worried about," Nolan shot the gun a second time. Eithne Whelan screamed for the remaining five seconds of her life. Nolan grinned as he watched her instantaneous cremation.
Wed May 21, 2014 2:20 am by Guest
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