The clip starts with a small count-down centered in the screen, and once it reaches limit, there is the bang of the door at the left of the frame, a door beat up by how many times it has been slammed that exact way. From a small elevation of stairs walks Klauw, down to the true star of the show. In the center lies a chair, and a woman tied with rope to said chair. Her mouth is gagged with that same rope -- every call for help would cause an agonizing rugburn to spread, or at least, until now -- Klauw's first move is to rip off the rope. He's a strong one, muscled, toned. The lady is the opposite -- young, yet frail, dressed in business suit and topped with a tie and bleached blonde curls.
She's the spitting image of an 80s sensation, the boss who just so happened to also be a girl.
"So, first things first, is that my dearest stars will always have a very good reason to be centered here," Klauw continued. The usual introduction. "This one...enough money to cherish at least a few hobos into comfortability, and yet, couldn't even spare a cent for a struggling serial killer. Don't they tell you to not pirate an indie creation?"
Every word from the lady would make that blistering mouth scream for agony right after. For now, she remained silent.
"So, like the bloodsucker you are...would you like a vampire's death? Ah, hell with asking. You just deserve it, don't you? You blonde bimbo whore, you'll earn the death you jack off to today."
With the slight click of something in Klauw's pockets, the lights go from a strong red to a neutral white. It makes the scene just a bit more clear. What is also clear is that Klauw had pulled something from the other pocket -- two nails, rather large. On a scrambled-placed nightstand next to the chair, lies a mallet, left there from the start, and a hint at the victim's fate.
Klauw reached over to the mallet, before positioning one of the nails, and leaving the other on the stand. Every little noise was caught on that camera. Klauw liked audio more than visuals, and with that selfish mind of his, assumed the audience would like it just as well. It's a dissociative feeling to have the music of gore to the visuals of a 480P video. And with that, the nail was positioned right over the back of the lady's right hand, resting on the chair's armrest, wooden, splintery from so many bashings into. One of the more popular videos was her taking a nailed bat to a man's entirety. Those splinters poked into what little flesh was revealed under the tuxedo.
With a heavy bang, the first hit of the mallet sounded. And the first noise the lady made was, predictably, a scream of hell. Already, with Klauw's brute strength, it had nearly passed through the chair itself, and definetly through her entire hand. With the right angling, a bit of blood dripped to the floor, a floor already stained brown with countless other droplets.
"Isn't this what you dreamed of?" Unfortunately, no. This woman was more morbidly curious than the freak the recorder was. Some fantasies do not translate well to reality.
And onto the next. Same-old, same-old. Mallet to nail to hand, and another hellish screech, followed by heavy breathing. She tried to reel herself away from Klauw's body, but that could do nothing. The only way she would leave was as a ghost.
"Ah, but I can't just let you bleed out, that would make me a horrible mistress, a neglectful mistress. Before I grant you your best wishes, do you have any last words? To the audience that will watch you like you watched so many others without sparing a single cent, or to anybody else?"
The businesslady's head tilted down, her voice shivering, every word bringing her a warped pain, a pain one could never grow numb to, and a throbbing headache at that.
"Tell my family, my husband and kids, that I love them."
"But sending them this would give them so much more pain than if you just simply went missing, dear. And how could you claim to love somebody if you let somebody else descecrate your body like this?"
"...A-Anything. Please. Don't let my case go cold..." Those shaking words, her head going to the floor more and more. Life spilling out.
"Alright, I'll mail them a personal copy, just like you asked. But for now, the reel still rolls. Coming up...a vampire's one weakness! This is how you kill the damned leeches, like you." The nightstand's drawers opened up with the roughest shove, and inside laid a wooden stake. A lot of things were wooden in this room, actually. The stake was choppy, splintery as the chair, like condensed spikes onto one stabbable weapon.
Klauw let out a maniacial laugh, looking down at the dying pirate, before with one throw of the hands, the stake pierced just below and to the left of the heart...the middle of the chest. It would not kill as fast this way. He wanted to bathe in this feeling forever, an erotic adrenaline rush. It made him higher than any drug on the streets could. The lady coughed once, then twice, vomit and blood spewing onto her suit and the stake. Still alive, just barely. Perhaps a miracle would arrive now -- but miracles didn't exist in this handmade hell.
On impulse, and as the finishing move, Klauw's leg jolted up, bent, then kicked the stake further into the viscera. The vomit poured this time, blood soon waterfalling away soon after, before finishing. It was a flood on the floor of bodily fluids, the smell of rot soon setting in as the one last breath was taken in, all while Klauw's booted foot laid on the end of the stake not engulfed in flesh.
The tape cuts off here into a fade into black, and the following text displayed.
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