Post by Trent Davis on Mar 16, 2008 18:30:41 GMT 1
It was an unusually warm day, even for spring. The snow had melted almost completely, remaining only in a few, isolated patches on the grass, which had begun to regain its former green glory. Children played on the street, enjoying the newly-arrived warmth and taking the opportunity while it was still available. Road hockey was popular on the normally quiet street, as there was rarely interruptions from passing traffic, but sure enough, a brown UPS truck lumbered into view, causing several of the children to begin their call of "Car!" accompanied by lifting the nets off the road. Several of the children gave the truck dirty looks, while the olive-green eyes of the driver remained on the road ahead of him until the moment he pulled up to his destination, several houses down the road.
Parking in the driveway, the man turned the ignition off and reached back, lifting a parcel off the top of the stack behind him, holding it with both hands despite the relatively small size of the package, his hands supporting it from the bottom. Despite himself, the delivery-man's face gave a small smile as he walked to the door, ringing the doorbell. As much as he hated the uniform, this was the part of the job he loved the most. The door opened towards the inside, withdrawing only a small distance before the chain caught. The man inside poked his head around the crack, glancing at the delivery-man, before speaking.
"What!?"
"Package delivery, for Mr. Jamieson Price."
"...One second."
As the door closed, the UPS driver caught a glimpse of something metal in the man's hand, an object that anyone with a television could identify in today's day and age. It seemed that Mr. Price was a somewhat paranoid individual, if he answered the door with a gun in hand, something that made the delivery-man want to end this meeting as soon as possible. The door opened, Jamieson holding his hands out for the parcel, the left had containing the pistol held up near his chest. It seemed he would take no chances, even from a simple delivery-man, which caused the green-eyed man a small amount of satisfaction.
Gotcha.
As Jamieson reached forward to take the package, the man would suddenly thrust the object towards the home-owner's face, the empty box blinding the man for a moment as the delivery man pulled his right hand back briefly. The bottom of the box gave way, causing a long dagger to fall into the UPS worker's waiting hand, who proceeded to thrust it forwards, driving it into Jamieson's throat, pushing the man into his house and knocking him to the floor. The delivery-man stepped on Mr. Price's left hand, keeping the man from being able to aim his gun towards him, before turning and pushing the door closed. Even as the man on the floor writhed and clutched his throat with his right hand in a futile effort to keep the blood in, the UPS worker crouched down next to him, pulling off his brown cap and allowing his long dark hair to fall down around his shoulders, his olive-green eyes staring at the man's face as he spoke in his usual whisper.
"Shhh... shhh... It'll be over soon. Then, when you see God, you can tell him that Trent Rydell ended your miserable life. And nothing short of divine intervention is going to slow me down again."
Smiling broadly, Trent stood up, twisting Death in the man's windpipe cruelly before withdrawing the blade and placing it in the holster underneath the UPS jacket, hanging opposite to its twin, Glory. He wiped his right hand off on Jamieson's shirt, frowning at the thought of the dirty blood remaining with him, before retrieving his cap and placing it back on his head. Whistling gleefully, he opened the door and went back outside, closing it behind him before getting back in the UPS truck and driving away, happily ignoring the smell of the slowly decomposing body in the parcel area behind him; the former driver of this particular truck.
Parking in the driveway, the man turned the ignition off and reached back, lifting a parcel off the top of the stack behind him, holding it with both hands despite the relatively small size of the package, his hands supporting it from the bottom. Despite himself, the delivery-man's face gave a small smile as he walked to the door, ringing the doorbell. As much as he hated the uniform, this was the part of the job he loved the most. The door opened towards the inside, withdrawing only a small distance before the chain caught. The man inside poked his head around the crack, glancing at the delivery-man, before speaking.
"What!?"
"Package delivery, for Mr. Jamieson Price."
"...One second."
As the door closed, the UPS driver caught a glimpse of something metal in the man's hand, an object that anyone with a television could identify in today's day and age. It seemed that Mr. Price was a somewhat paranoid individual, if he answered the door with a gun in hand, something that made the delivery-man want to end this meeting as soon as possible. The door opened, Jamieson holding his hands out for the parcel, the left had containing the pistol held up near his chest. It seemed he would take no chances, even from a simple delivery-man, which caused the green-eyed man a small amount of satisfaction.
Gotcha.
As Jamieson reached forward to take the package, the man would suddenly thrust the object towards the home-owner's face, the empty box blinding the man for a moment as the delivery man pulled his right hand back briefly. The bottom of the box gave way, causing a long dagger to fall into the UPS worker's waiting hand, who proceeded to thrust it forwards, driving it into Jamieson's throat, pushing the man into his house and knocking him to the floor. The delivery-man stepped on Mr. Price's left hand, keeping the man from being able to aim his gun towards him, before turning and pushing the door closed. Even as the man on the floor writhed and clutched his throat with his right hand in a futile effort to keep the blood in, the UPS worker crouched down next to him, pulling off his brown cap and allowing his long dark hair to fall down around his shoulders, his olive-green eyes staring at the man's face as he spoke in his usual whisper.
"Shhh... shhh... It'll be over soon. Then, when you see God, you can tell him that Trent Rydell ended your miserable life. And nothing short of divine intervention is going to slow me down again."
Smiling broadly, Trent stood up, twisting Death in the man's windpipe cruelly before withdrawing the blade and placing it in the holster underneath the UPS jacket, hanging opposite to its twin, Glory. He wiped his right hand off on Jamieson's shirt, frowning at the thought of the dirty blood remaining with him, before retrieving his cap and placing it back on his head. Whistling gleefully, he opened the door and went back outside, closing it behind him before getting back in the UPS truck and driving away, happily ignoring the smell of the slowly decomposing body in the parcel area behind him; the former driver of this particular truck.