This came out of an idea of @cbishop about a fan-fic of a fan-fic. So I thought I might try it.
This is an unauthorised, unsolicited, and possibly unwanted take on @impurestcheese's original series The Patron Saint Of Crime. Links to her original series are below in the spoiler box.
I urge, recommend and point you to read the source material as all I have really done is used the names. Also it is just a snippet, which may get an extended run at a later date.
__
Penthouse, Cnr Summer & Elkins Sts, Boston, 10:53pm
"Who are you?" Ivan Molotovinka gasped as the black shape morphed into a humanoid form, completely ignoring the fact that a whole clip of high caliber bullets had been pumped into it at close range.
"Really?" Hissed the shape as features formed and it took on a human outline. "I expected one of the upper ranks of the Russian Mob to be slightly smarter."
"Siwang!" Ivan muttered crossing himself as if it would form a mystical shield around him.
The black shape was now a woman; black as ebony from darkest space with unusual grey lines that defined her features. She nodded and tipped her hat to him. "Not that stupid after all."
Ivan fumbled for another clip for his gun when Siwang rushed through the desk like it wasn't there and slammed the middle aged mobster into the wall. "But still stupid enough. You invoke my name Ivan Molotovinka, and I expect, no I demand tribute."
"I'll give you anything!" He squealed.
"Of course you will," Siwang purred pressing her fingers tightly around his throat that they formed a noose. "But that sends the wrong message. That allows for people to take my name in vain, to treat me like the boogeyman or the Easter bunny. Do I look like the Easter bunny Ivan?"
"No"
"So why would you treat me like a fictional deity?!" Siwang lifted him up, her arm extending beyond the realms of normality and pinning Ivan to the ceiling whilst she stood on the ground. "I am the Patron Saint of Crime! When children steal candy, I am there. When men bludgeon their wives to death, I am there. When fat lazy Russian mobsters make promises in my name: I! AM! HERE!"
Ivan screamed as liquid darkness gushed down his throat filling his lungs, stomach and gut to bursting point. Siwang rose up to the roof and looked Ivan in his eyes that were drowning in black that filled him from inside.
"I am the Patron Saint of Crime." She dropped him onto the floor where he popped like an overripe melon. Black goo washed out of him before rejoining Siwang's form as she shrunk down to human and looked at the dying mobster with his burst stomach. "I am not without some mercy."
Siwang raised her hand and dark tendrils shot out. Like a swarm of rabid silkworms th tendrils began knitting the flesh together, Ivan screamed as he was stitched up. In mere moments he sat there panting as black throbbing stitches held him together.
"You have until sunset tomorrow to rectify your mistake Ivan," Siwang said as she seeped into the floor and in a heartbeat Ivan Molotovinka was left alone holding his knitted stomach worried that his deal with the devil was more than he bargained for.
__
More?....we'll see
Log in to comment