Pretear Fan Fiction ❯ Manhunt: Blood Work ❯ Deal With A Devil ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter One: Deal With A Devil

(November 25th, 10:34pm)

The room was cold and dark. He sat up, and saw he was on the floor in this cold dark place. This sure as hell wasn't the hospital.

The last thing Vincent McNeil remembered was being hit by that fucking pickup truck. He knew that wasn't his imagination since he hurt all over. He reached up and squeezed his right shoulder. It hurt like fucking hell, and he winced in pain. Definitely dislocated...

Vince: "Shit…"

He stood up, using his left arm for support, and then walked over to a wall. He readied himself for the pain he was about to feel, and then slammed his injured shoulder against said wall, popping it back into its rightful place. He screamed in intense pain, but at the very least it was quick. Far from painless, but quick.

Director: "Ah... I see our star has finally woken up. Rise and shine sweetie, wouldn't want to miss the bus. Ahah."

Vince looked around the room for the source of the comment.

Director: "It doesn't matter where it came from…" A slow sort of drawl, patronizing at the very least, seemed to follow the voice.

Vince quickly spotted the intercom in the upper left corner of the room.

Director: "There is an ear bud on the table to your left… Pick it up, and place it in your ear."

Vince: "Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck should I do what you say?!" Enraged, naturally- disoriented at best, to be specific.

Director: "What matters is I have all the cards, and your life is in my hands. If you want to survive this hell, you're going to want to listen to me and do what I say. And you sure as hell don't want them to hear me directing you, do you?"

Vince: "What the fuck are you talking about?" By this point his rage had somewhat quelled- or so he put on a good illusion of it. Forced control was indeed necessary, he had to find out what the fuck was going on.

Director: "Just put the fucking ear bud in, will you?" Curt at best, slightly impatient.

Vince waked slowly over to the table, and picked up the piece. He then slowly placed it in his right ear. And lo and behold- through it, he heard that voice.

Director: "There we go... That wasn't so hard now, was it? You can hear me good, can't you?"

Vince: "Yeah..."

Director: "Good. Very good."

A buzz emanated from the massive set of alloy double doors in front of Vince, causing him to glance at them on instinct.

Director: "There you go... The door is unlocked. Now go outside."

Vince: "Now just you wait a fucking minute. I want to know what the fuck is going on here, now!" The man found himself quite angle to suppress his frustration any longer, which was displayed very colorfully in his voice.

Director: "I'll tell you when you get outside... NOW MOVE!"

Vince slowly walked outside. The sky was filled with dark, dark clouds; however it was obvious it was night. He felt a cool breeze, and he realized how very chilly it was. He shivered just a bit, and tried to remember just what happened.

His cover had been blown, and the cops were looking for him. He was the leader of the group, which robbed a local Bank of America, and they finally caught up to him. Of course, he bailed. It was every man for himself, and he was a man out for himself. He ran as fast as he could; through alleyways and side streets. Anywhere to get away. And then it happened. He was running across the intersection, when WHAM! He was hit by a fucking pickup truck! From what he could see, he got pretty banged up from it, and he blacked out. Next thing he knew, he was in this shit-hole getting orders from some prick on the other end of a radio.

Wherever the fuck `here' was, that's where you'd find him. And right now, `here' was the last place he wanted to be. But now, it seemed the only thing he could do was just do what Mr. Asshole wanted, and hope for the best.

Director: "Good boy."

Vince: "Now, who the fuck are you, and where the fuck am I?"

Director: "I guess that's the least I could do. You are in Carcer City, which is my set. I am the director, and you are the star."

Vince: "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Director: "You're the star of my newest film, of course."

Vince: "Where are the cameras then?"

Director: "They are everywhere. Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they can't see you."

Vince smirked.

Vince: "Alright... Then what do you want- NEED me to do?"

Director: "To survive, and rack up a huge body count. This town is filled with ruthless, bloodthirsty cock-smokers who like to call themselves gangs. However, I'm here to help you. I'll tell you what you need to do, and I'll guide you through each scene. However, I need you to do me a favor being that I'm nice enough to help you."

Vince: "What?"

Director: "I want you to kill as many of these low life pieces of shit as you can! They are filth! No better than the common piece of scum you'd find under a rock! And besides... With you doing killing, that means better scenes... And I love better scenes."

Vince: "So you're filming snuff films?"

Director: "You could say that."

Vince: "You're one twisted prick, you know that?"

Director: "That's what some people say. But it doesn't matter."

Vince: "Why the fuck should I do this for you anyway?"

Director: "Like I said: I hold all the cards, besides… You survive this night, you win your freedom."

Vince: "..."

Director: "There you go… Now I hope you don't have another tantrum..."

Vince: "Alright... What first?"

(Next- Souls of the Lost)