Let thou screams wilt

One two three. The rats are gold for me. Four five six. I’m going to snap their little necks.

Kellan loved his job. It was dirty, much like him, for starters. He wasn’t the sort who had the luxury of a bath every day and even if he had been the sort he would have had more important things to do. It had long hours and kept him busy. That wasn’t really his choice but then again, he tended to get his ass in a lot more trouble when he had more time to kill. As it was, most of his day was spent finding and catching the little vermin with his free time being spent in the tavern. There was also the fact that the work made him sharp. Being a rat catcher had left him with keen senses, rats were a lot smarter than some might think. And learning to chase things? Well, that worked well for his other job, the one that was even more fun.

Since being handpicked to be a member of the Bloodhawks, Kellan had found his real calling. Murdering animals was fun, especially when they made that horrific little noise before he finished snapping their little necks. More fun was killing supernaturals. They were smarter, harder to catch, and so much more willing to scream when he bashed them in the heads or stuck a knife through their heart. It was win win really. He got off on the violence and torture he got to inflict and he was ridding the world of the horrifying creatures that filled their nightmares. Sometimes he even let them pretend they had a chance to talk him out of it before he smashed out the light in their eyes, leaving them dust or lifeless bodies.

Thinking about it had Kellan already preparing for the night. Rats during the day, creatures who called themselves people during the night. Maybe he’d find Oliver later and let him in on the fun. It was always more fun with two, when the other part of the duo was his brother. They moved together like they were the same person anyway. It was something that a smarter pair might have found dumbfounding but Kellan just chalked it up to how things worked. It was easier not to think about it too much. Save the thinking for the thought of that next kill and the blood seeping onto his muddy, torn up boots.