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"I never, wanted, to kill anyone…"

The young man trembled as he dared to raise his eyes to meet those of the dark figure standing over him – a small saw, wetted with blood, grasped in it's gloved hand.

"Christian? Christian my boy, I say - are you quite alright? You seem rather out of sorts."

"I cannot put the thought of those missing children out of my mind – what a terrible place I have come to! That is not to mention that putrid stench that seems to follow us wherever we go – I can barely stomach it…!"

"Oh please Christian! It will take you a while to become accustomed to the smell of a city – it is quite different from the fields and valleys of Hampshire that you are used to!" he said with a hearty laugh – ushering his disdainful nephew through the door and into the warm bed of local society.

He looked wildly around each room he was paraded into with his esteemed Uncle. The great halls were teeming with socialites – all acting merry with their fine wine and conversation, taking every opportunity to spread rumors and to pamper to those individuals possessing certain influence over interests they made their business. His uncle, who was as wide as he was loud, took a turn of the halls – introducing his mild-mannered and rather reluctant nephew to every clique and pocket of nobles who were to make fools of themselves that night by laughing at the old man's jokes and anecdotes, that possessed everything par wit and good-humour.
The city had welcomed Christian into it's dirty, deprived arms with its potent and overpowering odour, and had not let him forget it. He would find it burnt into his clothing, his hair - it would seep under doorways and caress the walls of his room with it's dank, dirty fingers. Any query or complaint was shrugged off by his hosts as if the malodor passed their notice, and Christian was now beginning to find himself under suspicion of strange behavior and persistent irrationality. He did his best to retain an outward appearance of dignified composure, but was finding it ever more trying as they pressed deeper and deeper into the bowels of the party. It seemed to the supposed trouble-maker that the stink was only getting worse, and he could not keep the look of disgust off his face.

"Christian lad, do pay attention!" came a disgruntled chuckle as the boy was grabbed by the shoulder and turned around with a stumble to face the new panel of shallow-minded sirs and madams whose turn it was to judge him.

He clasped his hand over his mouth as he retched – shrinking away from the group and his uncle, who pulled him back upright with a degree of controlled anger. The boy stood there quivering – his eyes fixed upon the member of the group whose appearance so alarmed him. He was an individual of some height with a slender frame and large hands but to call him a man would be wrong, for sat upon those fine clothed shoulders was a head so ghastly and repulsive that Christian surely believed it to belong to some creature from the putrid depths of hell. It had the face of a fox with long, dirty and matted hair that had grown in tufts around the heavy black leather bonds that strapped the filthy oxygen mask around it's muzzle and secured the other that clumsily covered his visage with it's hollow and empty human face. The creature held it's wooly, moth-eaten ears bolt upright as it bored down into the boy's soul with it's tiny pin-hole eyes that were so inhuman, so void of any empathy or life that Christian could feel his very breath being taken away from him by the figure's crushing, unfaltering attention upon him.

He was introduced as Sir Victor Vicious of Sunnisdon Square – a gentleman of fortune and taste. Taste indeed! The man was no doubt the source of the pervading stench that so mercilessly swept the room, and Christian could not understand it. He watched as his uncle and the others engaged this monster in their conversation, treating him as if he were one of them. They even had the gall to discuss the disappearing children in front of it – speculating the identity of the killer as if the very obvious culprit was not standing there amongst them adjusting his rusty monocle with a dirty gloved hand.

"By god what is the matter with you all??"

The group went silent, turning their attention toward the wild-eyed young man, who pushed his uncle's heavy arm from around his shoulders. His chest heaved as he looked around them all in bewilderment,

"Can you not see what is right in front of you?! This – this monster! How is it that you welcome him into your such prestigious company – the company you pride yourselves on containing only the most dignified and fashionable of persons! Are you such fools that you would give him your trust when he is such a beast!"

His accusations met a sea of such incredulous faces that he was momentarily caught at a loss for words and stood their dumbly until his uncle grabbed him by the arm.

"What in heavens do you think you are playing at?! Sir Victor is a gentleman of valor and morals – your wild allegations insult not only him but the rest of the party as well!"

"But he is not a gentleman – he is not even human! Can none of you see that he is not human?!"

The audience Christian had accumulated through his ravings exchanged troubled and uncomfortable glances. None of them could see the haggard creature hanging in their company as anything else than a handsome and hospitable man of leisure and fortune with whom they would do well to align themselves with. They saw no foxes and they saw no masks. Not one of them could see him for the creature he truly was, and all this time the demon's silent eyes had not wavered from Christian's being.

Christian did not find himself invited to any subsequent balls, banquets or social gatherings of any sort during the rest of his stay in the city but he did not find this disagreeable as it meant he could spend the entirety of his days and nights working to expose Sir Victor Vicious with the upmost dedication. He found that he could think of nothing else as he dug further and further into his investigations – wading through the death and grievances concerning the cases of the missing children until he found himself stood deliriously in a bleak back alley not too far from the city docks. It was from this complex of streets that many of the children had allegedly gone missing, and subsequently it was very rare to see a child let out at night unaccompanied to walk the streets. Which was why Christian counted his blessings when he caught eye of a group of three young boys huddled together to keep warm as they wove their way through the alleyways. As he prowled in the shadows behind them he considered whether he ought to warn them of the danger they were strolling into, or even to make himself known to them so that they would no longer be unaccompanied and vulnerable. However in all reality they were the perfect bait for luring the sordid killer out, and Christian just stood back and let them walk further and further into the spider's web with a delighted grin on his face.  He watched them with some frustration as they approached a dead-end and began to argue amongst themselves as to the cause of their misdirection. He was beginning to tire of their lack of progress when a sudden scream made him start and run out toward them only to find them pressed against the wall in horror - their bulging eyes fixed on the fresh corpse of a woman crumpled like a pile of discarded dirty laundry against the wall. As they saw Christian approach they cried out and ran from him. One child slipped his grasp but he managed to grab another and lunged out for the second, holding them both firmly so that they could not escape him.

"Be still, be still goddamn it! Don't you understand that I cannot let you go now!  You must stay so that I may catch that foul fox in the act and prove to my uncle and the others that I am perfectly sound-minded!"

The children were dragged with such determination that even their begs of mercy could not hold him back. He suddenly felt their weight increase and turned with a snarl on his lips only for his face to drop as he saw their tiny feeble bodies lying motionless on the floor – his own swiftly following.

He awoke to a cold stone floor and a maddening pain in the back of his head that he could not explain. He was then struck by the warm stench of broken flesh and split organs mixed with the leathery odour of rotting carcasses and stagnant waste that had been tormenting Christian since the day he arrived. The smell made him nauseous and he managed to stumble to his feet with the aid of the muculent wall upon which festered years and years of unhindered grime and filth. After a moments utter repulsion the young man looked up and tried to determine his location and the source of that perverse grinding sound that rocked back and forth from ear to ear. The warehouse appeared large and the only source of light were a few candles placed around a small work bench which Christian was struggling to reach due to the numerous black objects of some mass which were hanging in his way, not to mention his having to wade through and keep his footing upon the 'floor' that was covered with some sort of wastage. Still he sought the light like a moth to the flame – ever drawing closer until he slipped and clung desperately to one of the hanging entities - pulling himself back up only to fling himself back down to the wet floor in alarm and revulsion as he looked up in dismay at the sight before him. What was once a girl hung suspended by her nimble ankles – her rib cage hanging open like her mouth and those of the many other children inhabiting the cold warehouse. There could have been a whole school hanging butchered there with their little white bodies ripped and torn – their innards gouged and gutted to form the marsh of entrails Christian now found himself seated in. His eyes darted about from one horrible face to the next until he retraced his gaze and let out an aghast wail – pressing his hand, muddy with blood, against his mouth. Bearing down upon him were the corpses of those two boys into whose company he had so forced himself. They were still dripping with blood, their jaws hanging wide open and their bulging eyes pinning him down with their soulless, tearful stares. What had he done? Christian could barely hear himself think – seizing up with uncontrollable hysterics, he began to tremble all over. He had caused the deaths of two boys whom would have safely left with their friend had he not wanted so desperately to prove that he was right enough to pull them back and force them to serve as live bait – leading them knowingly to their deaths.

He threw himself onto his hands and knees and whimpered one last sentiment before the young man dared to raise his eyes to meet those of the dark figure standing over him – a small saw, wetted with blood, grasped in it's gloved hand.
Full-sized photo: [link]

Sir Victor Vicious is a fox-monster-being masquerading as a Victorian gentleman. He wears a mask of a human face and kidnaps children, butchering them and selling their meat. Sort of like Sweeney Todd mixed with the Barry the Chopper episode of FMA and Fox and the Hound xD

This was my first project at university - we had to make a character out of rubbish and then write their backstory (I went way over the recommended word limit though lulz) It was pretty rushed T_T ah well

On the head he has a red stamped seal that reads 'Official Meat Trader.'
I'm still pretty fond of this character :3 He is like some sort of nightmarish monster from a fairytale.
THWT Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
So cool! 8D Very impressed by your writing ^3^
Lady-Liara Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2012
Aww thank you for reading it ^o^-
THWT Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I scrutinise anything Lili does >:3
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Submitted on
June 12, 2012
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Mature Content


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