As the celebration for Alvar Creed’s senator of Nevada election victory continued on the inside of his mansion, the two murderers, Frankie Kradden and Jeremy Vogaas, kept a look out for any suspicious activity on the property. Frankie had been told to patrol the outside of the mansion and Jeremy the inside, both men given the orders to execute and dispose of any uninvited guests. And both men would be more than happy to do what they knew how to do the best: kill. So far though, the evening had been a quiet one. They were disappointed by that and were bored. The fact that a perfectly good party was going on and they couldn’t attend it didn’t help either. Their night was about to get better though, at least temporarily.

Frankie didn’t see the large figure of Red Spyder teleport past the fence that surrounded the mansion, armed with his usual assortment of weapons. Red would’ve climbed over the fence, but he didn’t want to accidentally end up tripping some kind of alarm. He proceeded across the lawn, headed towards the mansion’s front doors. He wasn’t going to try sneaking into the party itself. In fact, once he was there, he hoped to have the attention of as many people who were attending the party as possible. He walked by cars that belonged to the guests parked along the sides of the road leading up to the mansion. He saw the guard positioned near the front doors, but the guard still hadn’t seen Red. He didn’t realize that it wasn’t any kind of ordinary guard though. As he got closer, he reached into his trench coat to take out his Bowie knife. He would simply slit the guard’s throat.

When he was just a few feet away from the guard, he turned in Red’s direction. A mixed look of shock and joy appeared on Frankie’s face. He didn’t have to ask who this intruder was. Within the world of murdering, Red had become well known over the years. What happened next caught him by surprise though. In the blink of an eye, Frankie managed to pull out and throw a pair of scissors at Red. The scissors themselves were all metal and looked very sharp. They weren’t small, but they weren’t exactly big either. They were just small enough to be easily slid into the pocket of a pair of pants. Light gleamed off of the shiny metal as the scissors sailed through the air before hitting the lower center of Red’s chest, driving into his flesh, the blades going almost all the way in to the handles. A small amount of blood dripped out of the wound around the scissors’ blades. He didn’t show any signs of pain as he slowly looked downwards to get a better look at the scissors. He hadn’t even flinched when the scissors went into him.

Looking back up at Frankie after a moment, Red said, “You must be the type of person who stabs first and asks questions later, huh?”

Frankie didn’t answer though. He just stared back at Red with a look of hate in his eyes, a look that Red usually and currently had in his own eyes. Red was beginning to wonder if Frankie was unable to speak for some reason when he finally said something.

“Sorry, boss’s orders.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, but after I kill you, maybe I’ll kill your boss!”

At those last words, Red lunged in Frankie’s direction, swinging the Bowie knife at him. He didn’t actually have any plans to kill Creed, yet. He just wanted to piss Frankie off. Frankie quickly sidestepped Red, the blade missing Frankie’s neck by less than an inch. He then reached for the scissors that were still stuck in Red’s chest, but before Frankie could grab the handles of the scissors, Red smashed an elbow into the side of Frankie’s head, sending him stumbling sideways off of the pavement and onto the grass. The grass was still a little damp from the rainstorm that had occurred during the late morning and early afternoon of the day, causing Frankie to slip on it. He managed to keep himself from falling though and took out another pair of scissors that were identical to the ones remaining in Red’s chest. He started to throw them, but Red was quicker and threw his Bowie knife, forcing it into the front of Frankie’s neck, a light spray of blood disappearing into the air as he dropped to the ground, the scissors falling from his hand.

“Well that was easy enough.”

Red began walking towards Frankie’s body to retrieve the Bowie knife when he suddenly heard glass shattering behind him. He spun around in puzzlement to find someone leaping out of a second floor window, broken glass and pieces of window frame hitting the ground in front of Red. It was another guard, this one equipped with a meat cleaver: Jeremy. He had heard the commotion out there from inside the mansion and went to the window to see what was going on exactly. These certainly weren’t ordinary guards. Red was guessing that they were a part of Creed’s “Initiative”. Jeremy landed on the lawn near Frankie’s body, rolling to his feet. As he turned to look at Red, he could see several scars running across Jeremy’s face.

“Do you really wanna die for your boss too?”

Not wasting any time with talking, Jeremy charged at Red with the meat cleaver, making him dodge the weapon to avoid being cut into by it.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

Red slammed a knee into Jeremy’s lower back, knocking him down onto his knees. Jeremy immediately started climbing back up, but it gave Red just enough time to get another weapon out. Red swiftly pulled his machete out and prepared to sever some of Jeremy’s limbs with it. Before he could even bring his arm back to swing the machete though, Jeremy moved out of harm’s way. Going after Jeremy, Red managed to get a swing in this time, only to have Jeremy barely block the shot, the two metal blades grinding against each other. The two murderers glared at each other, their weapons being the only thing keeping them apart at the moment. Finally, Jeremy began walking backwards away from Red, leading him into a courtyard area that was located in front of the mansion. As Red followed Jeremy, keeping the same pace as him so that the distance between them remained the same, Red could hear the splashing of water in a fountain that was currently behind Jeremy.

He rushed forward to attack again, aiming for Jeremy’s head with the machete. Jeremy tried to step out of the way. He wasn’t quite quick enough though. The machete missed the main part of his head, but it ended up removing almost his entire left ear instead. Almost instinctively, Jeremy brought the meat cleaver up, blood pouring down the side of his head where the ear had been just a few seconds ago, and chopped it into Red’s upper right arm, the blade slicing through thick muscle and digging into the bone. Blood spurted out of the giant gash as he struggled to pull the cleaver free from Red’s arm. After several hard tugs, the cleaver came out, sending a splatter of blood onto the ground. He then attempted to cut into Red with the cleaver again, but before he could, Red planted one of his legs behind both of Jeremy’s and pushed forward, causing him to trip backwards over Red’s leg. The back of his head struck the concrete edge of the fountain, cracking his skull wide open. Dropping the meat cleaver, Jeremy proceeded to fall the rest of the way to the ground, unconscious, a puddle of blood quickly forming around his body from his head.

Looking at his arm, Red saw that the bleeding had already stopped and the wound had started to heal. It would probably be fully healed within the hour. That reminded him of the scissors that were still stuck in his chest. Reaching down, he removed them and dropped them to the ground with a clang. The hole immediately began healing. He was focusing some of his power on his injuries to help heal them quicker, but it wasn’t much power. Now he could go pay Mr. Creed a visit. When he turned around to face the mansion though, he saw that Frankie was standing up, the Bowie knife still in his neck. It had acted as a kind of cork and prevented Frankie from bleeding to death. He grinned in amusement at the sight of someone with a knife sticking out of their throat.

Eyeing his knife, Red said, “I knew I was forgetting something.”

Frankie reached into his own trench coat, Red was guessing to get out another pair of scissors. What he pulled out was another pair of scissors, but they were much larger in comparison to the other pairs. They looked more like some kind of gardening shears. Pulling the scissors open, he ran at Red. He was going to try and decapitate Red with the scissors. Red anticipated this though and ducked underneath the scissors as Frankie snapped them closed, trimming a small amount of hair off of the top of Red’s head instead. Coming up behind Frankie, Red reached around Frankie’s head with one hand and grabbed the Bowie knife, ripping it out of his throat and further opening up the wound. Ribbons of blood squirted through the air as Frankie stumbled around, confused about what had just happened to him. Then, Red hit Frankie with a kick to his back, knocking him right into the fountain with a splash, the large scissors slipping out of his hands, his blood continuing to pump out into the water, coloring it crimson, as he thrashed his arms and legs around in his final moments of life.

Putting the Bowie knife away, Red looked down at Jeremy’s unmoving body. Jeremy would soon be dead too from blood loss, but first, Red was going to use him for something. He rolled Jeremy’s body over with one foot, able to see part of his brain trying to push through the gap in his skull as blood continuously flowed out, before pointing the machete downwards and stabbing into his back with it, the blade severing his spine and skewering his body. He then lifted Jeremy’s body up by the machete, grabbing onto the back of Jeremy’s shirt with his free hand, and walked towards the mansion’s front doors, leaving a trail of blood behind them, all of it coming from Jeremy. Reaching the doors, he started to swing to Jeremy’s body back and forth, bashing his head into the heavy wooden doors, leaving behind smears of blood on them, using him as a human battering ram. He could hear people shouting in surprise on the other side of doors, wondering what was going on outside. None of them had heard the fight, but this certainly got their attention. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, Red swung Jeremy’s body with a rhythm until finally, the doors splintered open. Creed’s party guests got quiet when they saw who was standing in the doorway and what he was holding.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important here!”

Red laughed to himself as he let go of Jeremy’s shirt, allowing his beaten and bloodied body to slide off of the machete to the mansion’s floor, his blood staining the expensive floor. He then put the machete away, able to see Creed glaring at him from the staircase. He took several steps into the room, people backing away from him in fear.

“I won’t keep you people distracted for long, but when I heard that Mr. Creed here is the new senator of Nevada, I just had to stop by to congratulate him on his victory myself!”

Red continued walking through the crowd, slowly heading towards Creed, a path appearing before him as people rushed to get out of the way. He turned his head to look around at the room as he walk.

“You have a really nice place here!”

Red could tell that Creed was getting angrier by the second.

Having enough, Creed finally shouted, “What the hell do you want, Spyder?!?!?”

Pausing, Red looked up at Creed.

“Well, like I said before, I came here to congratulate you on your win!”

Picking up a glass of champagne from the tray of a nearby waiter, Red raised it up to Creed.

“Congratulations. You earned it, senator.”

Red then drank some of the champagne, but seconds later, he pulled the glass away and spit the drink out into the air.

“Fuck Creed, that tastes horrible! You’re a politician! I’d think you could afford to at least serve people decent champagne!”

Red dropped glass, which still had some champagne in it, to the floor where it shattered, sending tiny shards of glass and champagne across the floor. He walked some more, until no other people were in his way and the bottom of the staircase was just a few feet away. Creed looked like he wanted to leap down the stairs and strangle Red.

“Before I go and let your party continue, I have a little present for you…”

Reaching into his trench coat, Red took out a round object that was wrapped in obviously cheap wrapping paper. Tossing it up to Creed, who caught it with both hands, Red turned around and walked back the way he came, exiting through the still open front doors and teleporting away when he was sure that no one at the party could see him any longer.

Back inside, Creed still held the present in his hands. He could feel that it was soggy in some places. Carefully, he proceeded to unwrap it, the party guests nervously watching on. Once all of the paper was off, which he let just fall to the floor, he turned the object over in his hands until he realized what it was: the rotting head of Sergeant Sal Farough. His eyes widening, Creed let the head fall from his hands. It landed on the step below him and proceeded to roll down the stairs until it stopped on the floor. People in the crowd also began realizing what it was and gasped, whispering amongst themselves. Creed was shaking with anger and frustration now…