[2P APH] Bloodstains.

Arthur sat in his office, waiting for them to arrive.

He stirred his tea slowly, letting the hot red liquid spill over the rim of the cup onto his hands, enjoying the burning sensation.

He smiled crookedly and dropped the spoon to the floor. Arthur could hear their quiet footsteps coming down the corridor.

They opened the door to the room and stepped inside.  Arthur smirked and strode over to them.

The one on the right grinned wickedly; slamming the hockey stick on the floor and leaving a dent when he lifted it back up.

The one on the left glared and swung the baseball bat over his shoulder, pulling at the hem of his leather jacket in impatience. They were both covered in blood.

-XoXo-

The alleyway was dark, its walls covered in graffiti.

They had been provoked by a man in the black suit. Arthur, Matthew, and Alfred were cornering him, their weapons a knife, hockey stick, and baseball bat. They stepped closer, Arthur in the lead, the knife extended and ready to cut through flesh. He hadn’t killed anyone in so long; it would be nice to see fresh blood again.

“Sweet dreams, love.” He plunged the knife forward, and the walls of the alley were the splattered with red as a scream curdled the night air.

When they turned to walk away, Arthur could still hear the man’s screech ringing in his ears.

-XoXo-

The next night he found himself in the warehouse. He was alone now, but they would come later on, and he knew it.

The thugs inside laughed when Arthur entered. He was a grown man wearing a pink vest and blue bow-tie, with no visible weapons. They had guns, and he didn’t, and they could easily shoot him. It would be fun for them that way.

Arthur knew that they would stop their stupid laughter soon enough.

When he heard the footsteps from outside, Arthur smirked. “Hello, loves. I’d like you to meet my boys,” he called out to the men at the other side of the room.

With perfect timing, Alfred and Matthew entered and blocked both the exits.  The men stopped laughing and pulled out their guns.

Alfred pulled out his weapon. “It’s bitch beating time,” He smirked, pricking his finger on one of the nails embedded into the bat and letting a small trickle of blood run down his forearm.  

Matthew laughed. “Let’s kill these dicks.”

Arthur stood aside. He knew very well that those two could take out everybody in the room.

The men, looking slightly worried about the threatening situation they were in, fired their guns at Matthew and Alfred. As easily as dodging a punch, they swerved away from every single bullet fired at them. The men soon had no bullets left, yet there was no mark on Alfred or Matthew. Simultaneously, they pulled their black shades over their eyes.

“Save some for me,” Arthur called, wanting a turn to kill tonight.

“Let’s play ball,” Alfred smiled, and then nodded his head in silent agreement to Arthur’s request.

“Strike one,” Matthew called smoothly as he slammed five men over their heads with his hockey stick. The hidden blade had evidently worked, because none of the men had got back up, and the backs of their heads were splattered with blood.

“Strike two,” Alfred shouted as he rammed around six people over to the ground with the club. They didn’t get back up, and they had nails sticking out of their heads from the baseball bat.

There were only three people left. Arthur ran up to the last of the men with an insane look on his face. He threw his knife like a javelin and speared their chests. He walked up to the closest dead person.

“Strike three,” he whispered to the motionless figure, “You’re out.”