Jingle bells chimed.
As if signalling the beginning of the end, that sort of clear knell echoed to but one pair of ears.
Two male bodies, one quite frail and the other of decent bulk.
Two desecrated bodies, both with mutilated limbs and left seemingly to rot.
Two faceless bodies, each bearing no countenance, no mug, no mien to speak of.
Blood cascading and overflowing, spilling and pouring, flooding and seeping into the besmirched mattresses, oversaturated with such belated force of life, dripping even further onto the cold stone beneath, cruelly staining that, too, with an unforgettable trace of past existence.
The wafting of such a powerful stench, an objectively awful odour that one-sidedly dominated the room, one that clung to the inside of your nostrils, your airways, and the very insides of your lungs as you breathed it in.
Of strangers' blood, one that the Professional had grown regrettably accustomed to.
