#synthxtic

"Frankly I don’t think you’d get the satisfaction or whatever it is that you get from this senseless killing that you’re doing."  He slowly backed away from the boy. It wasn’t that he was worried about being destroyed by him. He just wanted to get away from him and the bodies of his co-workers. "Unless you enjoy the colour white more than red." He wasn’t really sure where he was going with that last sentence. He didn’t have much to say really. This boy was obviously not mentally stable and he felt though whatever he would say wouldn’t process with him.

"White? Are you implying your blood isn't red? How weird."

The male stared coldly, lifeless eyes studying him up and down. If he was not a crimson-spiller, what WAS he? Surely not human. Jeff took a few more steps forward, body leaning towards the being before him with an almost childlike (but malicious) curiosity.  Learning was always a fun experience, why not learn about this person? It was much more fascinating than school, and far more educational. ..Especially when he could be 'hands on'.

"If you do not bleed, are your insides different as well? It's no fun cutting someone open only to find out they don't have organs at all.."

"You know.. Occasionally when I get obnoxious      little survivors like you, I always get the question         ‘Oh no! You monster! How could you?!’                Things of that nature.”He paused, smirking.         ”Frankly, it’s fucking annoying.” Jeff grunted, plunging the knife in deeper to the unlucky soul below him. They were far beyond dead, yet the sound of blood and cracking bone beneath him was far too enjoyable. Like a rag doll he simply stabbed at the body again and again, breath heavy with effort.       “But.. you know, I always like to respond with ’..why wouldn’t I?’.”

The male chuckled, yanking the knife out from the now brutally lacerated corpse, blood splattering out and about as he did so. Ah, he would need to wash his jacket after this; Red always stained dreadfully upon white clothing.

"Life in of itself is so… ωσятнƖєѕѕ.     You’re all little whiny ants, carrying about your day           as if you think you make an impact on ANYTHING.”

Slowly, he stood, cold white eyes shifting to make contact with the other; His smirk widened.

"So... being the good little Samaritan I am,      I help you out, put you out of your misery, really."

  "That's up to you, Samuels."

Amanda's tone was seemingly about to tip into anger, and she was trying her best to not use the wrench in hand against him.

  "When were you going to tell me, hm??!   That you're one of them!... -- Are your eyes   going to turn red, too?"