Miscellaneous Mayhem
This is a collection of images of death where the entire story is told with a single image or just a few.
Hope you enjoy!
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Petty Thief The knock on the door was soft, almost like someone wanted to keep a secret about their presence there. Blade assumed that it was Vic or Dean coming to split the loot. They had made the rounds last night and they were due any minute after fencing the goods, to drop off his share.
"About time!" He barked, as he unbolted the door and opened it. The sight that greeted him was not what he expected at all.
"Police! Hands up!" the voice behind the gun was firm.
Blade obediently raised his hands and backed away from the door. The uniformed officer followed him into the apartment and closed the door.
"I have a warrant for your arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney......." The voice droned on as he fastened the handcuffs on Blade's wrists as he pulled his hands around behind his back.
"Do you understand your rights?" the officer droned as he frisked Blade in a quick search for weapons. He unbuttoned and unzipped Blade's shorts and did a quick hand search of the contents. "Hey!" he protested as the officer reached into the forbidden territory. Blade could feel his manhood beginning to swell in response to the quick, but thorough search.
"What is this all about?" Blade asked, as if he didn't know.
"You have been identified as a suspect in a string of burglaries in the last several weeks."
"Burglaries?" he protested. "I don't know anything about any burglaries."
"Then you won't mind if I look around in here?" the officer said.
"Knock yourself out." Blade responded.
"Sit down," the officer said, pushing him down on the bed. "Don't move."
The officer started to go through the room, finding mostly nothing, Blade was smart enough to not bring anything home that could be linked with the robberies. Vic and Dean had a good fence that was willing to buy almost anything that they brought him.
"What's this?" the cop asked, holding up the bayonet that he had just discovered in the closet.
"It's called a bayonet. It's a souvenir. Nothing illegal about that." Blade answered.
The officer tested the blade. "Kind of sharp for a souvenir, isn't it?" he asked.
"Not if you are careful with it." Blade said.
Blade's mind raced. Where were Vic and Dean? had they been caught. Would they walk in on the cop and get caught too? Did they turn him in?
The officer tossed the bayonet on the dresser and returned to the closet, pulling things out and tossing them aside after looking through the boxes and bags.
"I can't let this happen!" Blade thought as he deftly slipped the handcuffs down the back of his legs and under his feet and stood up with his hands in front. The officer was unaware of his move. Blade quietly hurried to the dresser and grabbed the bayonet.
As the cop finished his search of the closet and started to turn back, Blade made his move.
"Gaaahhhhhhh!" the officer gasped as Blade drove the bayonet down into his chest as he turned. The stunned cop dropped to his knees and tried to pull his weapon. Blade shoved the bayonet to the hilt and pulled it back, driving it in again and again. Five thrusts later, the cop lay dead on the floor half in, half out of his closet.
Blade's mind reeled. "Oh damn! Oh hell!" "Shit!"
He stared at the unmoving body. COPKILLER! flashed through his mind. He imagined the quick trial, the verdict, the appeals, prison, execution.
"No, Not me!" he said aloud. He imagined the cruel treatment at the hands of big muscled - big cocked inmates that would play with his slender body as their favorite toy. "Noooo!"
Pulling the bayonet from Officer Jones' chest, he moved around the bed to where he couldn't see the still, unmoving body anymore.
"What have I done?" he asked, positioning the weapon in his navel. "I won't let them have me."
Pulling the sharp blade into himself, he gasped as it easily tore through his tender flesh.
"Unghhhh!" he gasped."Oh God! Oohhh, it hurts."
The taste of blood welling up from his throat let him know that he had struck deep and vital organs. He coughed as the blood started to fill his mouth.
Yanking the blade in deeper, he slid down the side of the bed, trying to find some relief from the horrible pain. His body responded in two ways. First he started to gag as his muscles continued to try to make him throw up in some twisted attempt to disgorge the blade from his intestines and somehow up and out of him. Next, he realized that he was growing painfully erect as his manhood strained to release his seed for the last time.
He strained against the pain as he slid to the floor, still holding on the the bayonet. The last tug on the blade stopped as it reached his spine. The powerful spasms of his final ejaculation rocked his whole body as the throes sapped the last vestiges of life from his tortured form. A white stream escaped the confines of the denim but only escaped as far as the carpeted floor.
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Bath HouseI never expected to be attacked in the bath. It had been a long day of training, teaching the latest round of soldiers to be real warriors. The warm waters relaxed my sore, tired muscles and lulled me into a false security. One by one the others finished and headed out of the room The last of them was someone I thought I knew for I had seen him here often. I had noticed him watching me as I bathed, but I was used to that. Suddenly he was coming at me with his eyes wild and his sword slashing. I grabbed my sword and barely avoided getting run through. Stumbling into the water, I managed to cross the pool but with him real close behind. I tried backing up the steps but fell backward against the wall. Only saved by the fact that he tripped on the same step, I was able to drive my sword through his chest as he fell. I held him tight to my body as he struggled. I couldn't let him maneuver his sword to where he might stab me with it. His body was firm, strong, hot, wet and slippery. His body smelled sweaty and musky with that manly aroma of a strong body. He was aroused with bloodlust as I felt his surprisingly hard member jabbing into my groin
"Just relax and let it happen." I whispered. "Death is sweet and full of honor for the warrior who dies at the hand of another warrior."
"Let me feel you die in my arms." I said, tightening my hold on him. He seemed to relax a little as he accepted his fate.
"I die today, but soon you will follow." He whispered hoarsely.
"Perhaps," I answered, "but not at your hand." At that, I twisted my blade and drove it to the hilt in his chest.
"Aaaaggghhhhhggh!" His sword clattered to the floor and his powerful arms tightened their hold as they wrapped around me. They felt so good I could hardly stand it.
As he died I sensed the satisfying feel of his tense muscles quivering, his hard manhood pumping against my leg and softening and the smell of his blood as it poured over my hand as it gushed out of the huge hole in his chest. His arms relaxed and dropped to his sides. His tense muscles melted and soon his whole body was limp. He died well. I watched his now serene face as he slipped backward. sliding down my blade into the water. His blood swirled in oddly beautiful patterns as the water swallowed his body from sight.
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Jogger Kill
Kenny paused briefly, leaning on the fence to catch his breath. He heard dogs barking and turned to see where they were. He saw two men running up the path toward him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" the first one shouted.
"Sorry... I was just jogging up the path here."
"No trespassers." The second man snarled as he raised his bow.
"Whoa there!" Kenny said, "I'll leave, I didn't know this was private land."
"F**k this." he snarled again, "Kill him."
"No! Wait, I'll go!" Kenny pleaded.
The first arrow slammed into his gut. "Unghhhh!" he bent over as the blood gushed from his destroyed navel. The first man took aim and fired. *Thunk* "Unhhh!" Kenny leaned back and gasped, grabbing onto the fence for support.
"Please, no, Let me go!" he pleaded as the second archer again took aim.
*Thwack* Kenny's head flew back as the shaft pierced the center of his forehead, a red mist sprayed out from the back of his skull. As he fell backward, his back was pierced with the sharp points on the top of the fence and he leaned back over the sharpened points without falling. Blood flowed freely from his wounds onto the ground.
"Pull out the arrows and take his clothes,." the one said. "What will we do with the body? the other asked. "Leave him there," he answered, "The dogs will take care of him."
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Wounded
The arrow seemed to come out of nowhere. Kirt fell from his motorbike and landed on the rough path. The pain was intense although the wound probably wound not be fatal.
He dragged himself to a fallen branch and sat down.His only fear was who shot him? Was it on purpose? If they came would they help, or finish him off?
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Arrow Torture
We really didn't think he had it in him. He never flinched when the first arrow smacked into the tree near his head.
That angered Zan a little too much. He took aim and hit the kid left of center above the beltline. With nothing but soft flesh the arrow passed clean through and just left a couple of bleeding holes. The kid stood firm even though wounded.
"What are your plans? What is your target? How many are there of you?" No answer.
Rad took aim, slacked off from a full draw and fired. "Beauty!" he bragged as the arrow passed through the kid's belly button stopping just before the fletching went in his gut. He jerked a little with the impact but replanted his feet, clenched his teeth and said nothing.
I repeated the questions. No answer. I signaled to Zan to take aim again. "Answer me or he fires again." I warned. The silence from him was worse than a torrent of curses. Nothing at all! No pleading for mercy, no angry outbursts, not even groans or shrieks of pain.
Zan's next arrow took him mid abdomen. He weakened briefly, his knees buckling, but he struggled back up, planted his feet firmly again, and stood there like a statue, blood streaming from his wounds, but firmly resolved to not give us any information at all.
I took my bow, drew down on him, and waited. "You're not going to answer anything I ask you, are you?"
Our eyes met. A slight smile curled his lips as he slowly shook his head "No".
"Very well," I said. "Then you leave me no choice."
Releasing my shot, I heard the loud thud as it passed through his sternum and slammed into his spine. He jumped a little at the impact, looked down at the arrow in his chest looked back up to me and mouthed the words "Thank you." His head then tilted to the side, his eyes closed and he fell backward as far as the ropes would let him. Knees buckled but not reaching the ground we left him dangling there, hoping his friends would find him and wonder if he had talked.
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Jamie
Standing on the bed where he and Robby had made love so many times, Jamie nervously held the point of the sword to his abdomen. "This is it!" he muttered tearfully. "I can't stand life without you!"
Dropping quickly to his knees the blade swiftly did it's work. Jamie shrieked with pain as he tried to stand. Tumbling backwards his body made a loud thud as he hit the floor.
"What was that?" Jim asked, looking up at the ceiling.
"Who knows?" Robby muttered. "The little queen's probably throwing things around because I'm moving out."
"You can quit now, Nobody gives a shit!" Robbie yelled at the ceiling, as he slammed the door.
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Slow Kill
The old rusty metal rang out as each of the arrows slammed through his body and impacted the steel housing. It was time for us to move out and we were in no mood to bring along any prisoners.
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As the sun arose Jeremy's still form lay at the water's edge less than half a mile from the place they found David. 
NOW! he thought, as he pulled the sword into himself with all his might. Gaaahhhhh. Pain. doubts. No, no doubts! This was meant to be.
He succeeded only for a short time.
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