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★| "You know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe, scarlet billows start to spread. Fancy gloves, though, wears old Macheath, babe. So there's never, never a trace of red."

The camcorder clattered sideways, the image warping into a tilted view of the floor. Its lens still caught flashes of movement — jerking shadows, the chaotic bob of Ashley’s legs as she kicked and thrashed in Bon’s grasp.

The mic strained against her raw, wet screams as the rabbit’s metal fingers locked against her jaw, prying it downward until the joint gave way with a sharp crack. Her cry broke into a strangled gargle.

"NNghhh—hhRRRHHHkk—HHhhk—!"

Bon’s head twitched with each of her convulsions, his guttural laughter cutting in and out like a corrupted audio file. His claws ripped down across her midface in a sudden rake, tearing flesh from the bridge of her nose. Her eyes widened, blood seeping fast across her cheeks, only for one of his digits to plunge inward, gouging deep — Ashley’s socket ruptured in a spray of red against the camera lens.

Her boots kicked uselessly against his torso as he squeezed her skull between both hands. Bone gave under the pressure — a crunch, a wet pop as the maxilla split. Her lips tore in opposite directions, skin pulling apart until her mouth gaped an impossible, slack angle.

Her scream faltered into a bubbling hiss. Her body twitched as Bon slammed her once against the wall, then again into the floor, leaving smears where her head had struck. The camera jostled on its side, catching her fingers spasming in frame as she tried to crawl away, leaving a streak of diluted red across the tile.

Bon loomed over her, head tilting from side to side, lowering with almost animalistic patience. His massive endoskeletal hands enclosed her skull once more, grinding until her face collapsed against its own structure, the recorder picking up the cartilage tearing and the dull, rhythmic snap of cranial sutures giving way.

Through the distorted shrieks, the only constant was his static-ridden, choking laugh — rattling like a broken speaker while Ashley’s final noises cut off into silence.

‡ Relationship Undecided ‡

★ You're a member of the K-9 Group ★

★ But I didn't establish anything beyond that ★

† I updated this bih †

† Maybe I should make a bot where its not this shit and its just you, Kevin, Ashley, and Hillary fuckin around at K-9 †

† I have the art for it †

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♪| Lyrics from Bobby Darin's "Mack the Knife" |♪

Artist: @sheoffbeoff

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