Stealth. That's what the chef was feeling as he made his way silently through the crowd, his target within sight and knife in his sleeve. Lord Edward certainly looked a little nervous tonight, he thought as he shuffled around one person after the next. Only a guilty man could look that nervous.
He would be a hero today, he thought. The hero that brought Lord Edward to justice for his heinous crimes.
Edward's time was running out. The hero stalked closer until he was within arm's reach, and he quickly drew the knife out of his sleeve and sunk it into the nobleman's back. "MURDERER!" he cried at the top of his lungs as the steel cut through the other man's flesh. Screams, gasps, and panicked movement all swirled through the room as Edward shouted in agony.
The chef pulled the knife out and went for another stab before he was tackled onto the ground by one of the guards.
"How do you know that name?"
"Awful hot in here, isn't it, m'lord?" Lola asked, airing out the collar of his shirt to emphasis the heat. "Almost hard to breathe. As if you were being choked."
Lord Dacey's face was grim, chest tight, and the overall sensation of panic was starting to visibly sink into his expression. "How the fuck do you know that name?" he asked again, a slight tremble in his voice. "I don't know what game you think you're playing, Lord Theodore, but-"
"Oh for the love of the gods, are you really that fucking stupid?" Lola snapped. Quickly, he moved forward and kicked the leg out from under the noble's chair, sending him toppling to the ground. The sound of cracking rung through the air as he landed on his right arm and it was followed by a hiss of pain. Before the man could respond, Lola was on him again, hovering over his body as he jabbed a finger forcefully on his forehead. "My name is not Theodore you pitiful sack of shit," Damien growled. "My name is Damien Lola. Remember it."
Lola followed that up with several quick punches to the man's side, causing the noble to gasp in pain and shake violently. "That's your liver," Lola began to explain. "If you hit it just right, your body starts to shut down and your brain short circuits. The only thing you feel is terror. Must be what my mother felt every time you put your filthy fucking hands on her!"
Another punch. Another cry of pain.
"P-Please," Lord Dacey gasped, his words mostly covered up by his struggle for air. "Y-You have to understand!"
"No," the man quickly retorted. "I understand nothing about what you are. You're a monster that needs to be put down, and I'm here to make it right."
Gael Dacey began to sob, and with a satisfied smile, Lola stood tall once more and made his way over to the door, leaning his back against it. "Like I said," he started. "It's awful hot in here."
His eyes flashed.
"This room is running out of oxygen quickly, and there are no exits. Your ability to breathe is rapidly deteriorating. You will die soon, Lord Dacey, and you will look at me while you do so. I will be the last thing you ever see."
The look in Damien's eyes washed away, and he folded his arms over his chest as he looked on his soon-to-be victim. Lord Dacey's eyes could only be described with fear as he found himself surrounded by four walls with no doors, no exit, and the feeling of fingers gripping his neck, choking the air out of him quicker than he could process thought. All he could do was follow orders and look helplessly at Damien as he met his demise.
Lola watched the man struggle, pawing at hands that weren't actually there, waiting for the sweet relief he always felt from watching the enemy die.