Post by MICHEL MONTPARNASSE on Aug 22, 2013 13:55:50 GMT -5
Once, the stacked skulls of the catacombs had been an object of terror even for Michel. Shadows danced by candlelight in their vacant eye sockets, their teeth bared in lipless, eternal grins until someday, perhaps, they might turn to dust. Or perhaps they wouldn't, it seemed that they had been down here forever and probably would be forevermore--as far as Montparnasse could tell.
The body he had seized by the waistcoat and dragged back to this realm of the dead was of much fresher vintage. Well-dressed, the dead man's clothes were new and fashionable--desirable, and Montparnasse had been careful not to let the objects he wanted most touch the mud and pools of putrid water. Setting the corpse down carefully, he frowned at the dust that would doubtless mar the handsome overcoat. Well, it couldn't be avoided. He crouched beside the body and set to work on stripping it.
The true beauty of the garrotte was in its ability to provide him with a perfectly clean kill. The corpse would bear the signs of strangulation, of course, and often the trousers were ruined by the incidentals of death--but cravats, shirts, and waistcoats could be scavenged from the corpse unharmed, whether to be worn by Montparnasse himself or to be sold for the money to obtain the equivalents in a more suitable size, color, or style. No bloodstains to contend with, as he would face with the knife concealed in his sleeve.
The unsoiled clothing recovered, Montparnasse checked all pockets and purses carefully. A few worthwhile trinkets, a handful of coins, an envelope that seemed to contain a ring. He tore the paper away, smirking at the ring inside. He slipped it into his own pocket. It would be worth something up above. In the last pocket, unexpectedly, he found a pistol. He took that, too, shaking his head at the man's inability to defend himself even when armed. If he had ever needed proof of the stupid complacency of so many born dandies...
He froze at the sound of footsteps approaching through the dark. He had been working without light, for greater stealth, and with a slow but graceful movement dragged the nearly stripped corpse off to the side where the intruder wouldn't trip over it and flattened himself against the opposite wall of the chamber. He shifted the knife into his sleeve into his hand and waited.
The body he had seized by the waistcoat and dragged back to this realm of the dead was of much fresher vintage. Well-dressed, the dead man's clothes were new and fashionable--desirable, and Montparnasse had been careful not to let the objects he wanted most touch the mud and pools of putrid water. Setting the corpse down carefully, he frowned at the dust that would doubtless mar the handsome overcoat. Well, it couldn't be avoided. He crouched beside the body and set to work on stripping it.
The true beauty of the garrotte was in its ability to provide him with a perfectly clean kill. The corpse would bear the signs of strangulation, of course, and often the trousers were ruined by the incidentals of death--but cravats, shirts, and waistcoats could be scavenged from the corpse unharmed, whether to be worn by Montparnasse himself or to be sold for the money to obtain the equivalents in a more suitable size, color, or style. No bloodstains to contend with, as he would face with the knife concealed in his sleeve.
The unsoiled clothing recovered, Montparnasse checked all pockets and purses carefully. A few worthwhile trinkets, a handful of coins, an envelope that seemed to contain a ring. He tore the paper away, smirking at the ring inside. He slipped it into his own pocket. It would be worth something up above. In the last pocket, unexpectedly, he found a pistol. He took that, too, shaking his head at the man's inability to defend himself even when armed. If he had ever needed proof of the stupid complacency of so many born dandies...
He froze at the sound of footsteps approaching through the dark. He had been working without light, for greater stealth, and with a slow but graceful movement dragged the nearly stripped corpse off to the side where the intruder wouldn't trip over it and flattened himself against the opposite wall of the chamber. He shifted the knife into his sleeve into his hand and waited.
