At night I hear it creeping, at night I feel it move

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The nightowls of Rothbury, population 1694, are the small village's sentinels - evidence of their insomnia detectable only in scattered and steadily dwindling squares of light. It is these furtive and sleepless few who are the first to sense something is amiss, putting it off, in true muggle fashion, to their own neurosis. Yet, the choking sense of dread winding through the streets and slipping coldly through door gaps and windows is no figment of the mind.

Tall hooded figures skirt through the pines surrounding the town, their oblong, concentric march growing tighter and smaller until finally they spill into an open alleyway and fan out, seeming more liquid than army.

It did not take much for the Dark Lord to sway them, although it did take long. A slow coaxing away from their comfortable Ministry agreement with the promise of chaotic and widespread consumption far more tantalizing than the tired and impure souls of criminals. Voldemort has insured their first rebellion will be nothing short of spectacular, the promised banquet unarmed, unseeing and unsuspecting.

Naturally, a small group of Death Eaters flank the rear, giving their ghastly peers a wide, safe berth. They wait for the moment they can follow and make short work of any survivors.*

Comments

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

Well, it doesn't sound like a Dementor is in there now. Would they be carrying on like that for this long if there was? Come on, let's get in there and finish them off.

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*Several seconds pass and Snape's weedy frame shifts uncomfortably. He doesn't concede defeat, however he does backtrack back to Mulciber - pausing a moment at his side before raising his eyebrows - as if questioning why Mulciber hasn't barged in yet.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

*A simple Alohamora unlocks the back door and reveals a modest, spotless kitchen. Mulciber moves swiftly through the bottom floor until he reaches the foot of the staircase.*

ANYONE HOME?

*Mulciber turns to Severus, barely able to contain his anticipation. Suddenly, a Muggle girl appears at the top of the stairs. She's thin with curly brown hair and can't be older than sixteen. Clearly shaken, her expression betrays a flicker of hope until she gets a good look at Mulciber and Severus, who clearly don't resemble emergency personnel.

With a soft cry, the girl turns and runs out of view, shouting, "Get it out. It's in the top drawer. Get it out!"*

Great, I always love a good chase.

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

Just don't take your time with them, there's other houses, other muggles.

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

*Ignoring Severus' advice, Mulciber climbs the staircase and hears a rustle of noise behind a closed door. Hushed tones and sobs permeate the thick wood. It's clear that beyond the door is nothing short of chaos, and it is with eager hands and a pounding heart that Mulciber effortlessly turns the gold doorknob.

Greeting him is quite the scene: An older woman lays motionless and wide eyed on a bed, surrounded by four young women; sisters by the looks of it. The woman's head is cradled by what appeared to be the eldest of the sisters, who is too preoccupied with whispering "Mum" to acknowledge Mulciber's presence. The girl Mulciber saw on the staircase is huddled in a corner near a bedside table. The last two, identical twins around his age, sit by a large oak wardrobe; one holds a silver pistol in a trembling hand.*

Look at what we have here, Severus. Tender moment, really.

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*Snape scans the room, his eyes falling on the gun - he's well aware the metal weapon is an equalizer. Just as fast as any spell and if aimed properly, just as effective. However, he has no idea how to subtly alert Mulciber to the danger and he has no idea if Mulciber even comprehends it. Instead, he settles for agreeing with his fellow Death Eater's smug assessment warily.*

Touching.

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

Looks like the Dementors got to dear old Mum. Tragic.

*Mulciber doesn't appear moved whatsoever. Instead he's grinning at the look of disgust, horror, and absolute confusion on the girls' faces. It is apparent that they don't need to ask who he is or why he is there. All they know is that he isn't standing in their bedroom to help them.

"Get out!" shouts the youngest sister. "Get out or Charlotte will shoot!"

Mulciber's expression remains unchanged and, even as he eyes the gun, he is far from intimidated.*

Oh, I'm quite sure that she'll shoot. No doubt about that. See?

*Mulciber raises his wand and points it at Charlotte. As Charlotte's sisters urge her to take action, Mulciber mutters, "Imperio."

Charlotte's fearful countenance immediately becomes the epitome of relaxation. Her trembling ceases and her eyebrows are no longer knitted in consternation. She lowers the gun slowly. She's easy, Muggles are always the easiest prey, Mulciber thinks.

Turn to your twin. Point the gun at her temple. Now pull the trigger. Slight resistance, ever so slight. Do it. Do it now, Charlotte.

A loud pop. Screams. Splattered blood. One down, three to go.*

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*The gunshot causes a twitch, but Snape doesn't bat an eyelash at the exposed brain matter and bone shrapnel that the girl's head has been reduced to. Even as his ears ring from the close range blast, he feels better about the situation. With Mulciber in the reigns, the threat has been nullified. Even so, he makes no move to finish the other girls off, they aren't his to dispose.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

*Still under the curse, Mulciber forces Charlotte to hand over the gun. Mulciber shoves it into Severus' hands.*

Transfigure this into something, would you?

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*Snape looks alarmed as the device falls into his hands. Though he's never bothered to find out much about a gun's mechanics to know quite how, he's well aware they often turn on their holders if handled improperly. He nearly drops it as a result.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

*Now that Charlotte is no longer under the Imperious curse, she is sobbing into her dead twin's night dress, crying, "What did I do? WHAT DID I DO?" Mulciber is sick of the shrill chorus of screams from the sisters, but he can't help but feel light headed from the sheer knowledge that the women now know who is in charge. The thrill of it is inexplicable.*

Shut up and get in the bathroom. What the fuck are you looking at?

*Mulciber points his wand at each of the girls, relishing their prompt recoils.*

Now.

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*It's only after several moments of awkward and overly cautious gun-handling that Snape feels ready to shift the device into one hand and properly man his wand - Transfiguration was never his strong suit, far too flashy and shallow a magic - so, inevitably, the bird the gun morphs into has slightly metallic feathers which renders its subsequent flight short and anti-climatic.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

*Mulciber herds the women into the bathroom. After turning on the light, he forces them to kneel by an old fashioned claw foot bathtub. His eyes fall on the oldest daughter.*

You! Fill it up.

*She scrambles to fiddle with the tap, hands trembling all the while.*

Severus, get in here. You'll want to see this.

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

Don't I always.

*Snape arrives in the bathroom, leaving the heavy metal bird to struggle around on the floor behind him. He doesn't look impressed by the scene - assuming this set-up can only end in naked muggle women, which he certainly isn't in the mood for regardless of whatever Mulciber may claim. Despite this he says nothing, he knows this is no time for dissension.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

*The tub is filled and only the drip drip drip of the tap and high pitched sniffles are heard.

Charlotte is covered in her sister's blood: it's in her hair, splattered across her face, and smeared across her grey nightgown.*

Tsk, tsk. You're a mess Charlotte. *He nods at the tub.* Get in.

*Charlotte shakes her head and grips the edge of the tub. Quickly losing patience, Mulciber takes hold of a fist-full of her hair with a rough tug until she's standing. She screams and starts sobbing again. She's a sight, with bloodshot eyes and saliva dripping from her lower lip. Slowly, she begins to turn around and lifts her leg, about to enter the tub. With a scoff, Mulciber turns her around with a tug of her arm.*

You idiot. Do you bathe with your clothes on?

*Her eyes grow wide at his implication. "No," she says. "I won't."

"Just do what he says, Charlotte!" snaps the youngest sister.

"No, Maggie, I won't," Charlotte protests firmly.

"Just do it!"

"NO!"*

For fuck's sake.

*Mulciber pulls Charlotte towards him and snatches the thin straps from her shoulders and tugs the gown down her body. She struggles against him until she loses her balance and tumbles into the tub with a great splash. As Charlotte gasps for breath in the ice cold water, Mulciber addresses the other sisters; both are cowering in their respective corners of the bathroom.*

She killed your sister. I believe a punishment is in order, don't you?

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*Snape hasn't seen many naked women - which here means he hasn't seen any naked women - at least not outside of a photograph. Suffice to say, this isn't how he envisioned his first encounter, with flailing limbs and dull, tousled hair falling around flat, unimpressive breasts. He's not adverse to violence, he's just witnessed a girl's head blown apart by a bullet for god's sake - so why the forced removal of the night gown is so deeply crass and voyeuristic to behold is beyond him. Regardless of reasons, it feels almost like the air has been coated with slime particulates, like he's inhaling the situation, which proceeds to coat his lungs in filth. His wand is pointed at the girls, backing Mulciber's authority, but his eyes are on a tile somewhat above and beyond their heads.*

[whysosadistic.livejournal.com]

"Imperio."

*Without a hitch, the older sister is now under Mulciber's control. Her expression is suddenly passive and the abruptness startles the sisters into silence.

Hold her down, and keep her down. She deserves to be punished.

Charlotte is frozen with fear, "Simone? What are you—"

The older sister—Simone apparently—stands and approaches Charlotte. She stares coldly at her sister, who is naked and shivering with eyes red and puffy from tears. Without preamble, Simone pushes Charlotte's head under the frigid water. Charlotte's limbs are moving left and right, fingers scratching Simone's arms until they bleed, but Simone doesn't bat an eye. Frenzied bubbles rise to the surface of the water as Charlotte thrashes in the tub. Maggie can't stop screaming, and Mulciber grins placidly at the scene, intoxicated by control.

Soon, Charlotte's fingers grow limp and her movements are heavy until she is stock still in the murky red water.*

[dontbegoofy.livejournal.com]

*The gently bobbing corpse is easier to look at, its nakedness suddenly less vulgar, suddenly merely a fact. Snape has no difficulty staring into the tub - the screaming however, is grating on his nerves, in both sense of the word. Mulciber's slow and plodding style of murder taking its slow and plodding toll on his mood.*

[purely-better.livejournal.com]

*A stair creaks loudly downstairs, but it's only Lucius. Having finished off the only other occupant of the house he'd been watching (an old woman who had clung to his robes and begged for help), he'd left its vicinity quickly in search of other Death Eaters, unwilling to be too close to the Dementors alone. It'd been a relief, though he wouldn't say so, when he'd seen distinctly familiar hooded silhouettes through an upstairs window a few streets away. He didn't care who it was. He was joining them.

Doing so is probably somewhat contrary to orders. They're meant to be spread out, he knows, but bravery has never been Lucius's best quality, and he doesn't see how Voldemort could find out that he teamed up with others halfway into the job. Or that it would matter. He took out two Muggles already, alone, it isn't as though he's skiving off.

Telling himself all of this in a well-practiced art of self-justification, he makes his way upstairs, following the screams to the bathroom. Wand only half-raised as though he's not terribly concerned with finding anything dangerous, he leans around the doorway, taking in the scene and raising an eyebrow behind his mask. He vanishes it with a wand flick, his drawl mockingly paternal. For all his feigned laziness, he still looks a little pale, a little shaken. *

Surely you've been told about not playing with your food, boys. Is this all you've managed?

*As though he's finished any more.*