Stillwater and Redgrave

“You disappoint me, Tobias.” The voice of an aristocrat drenched Bluemoon’s spine in fear and sent a shudder of anxiety through his limbs. Slowly Tobias turned and beheld the lawyer. Richard Stillwater stood erect and true, his hair darker than London’s fog and eyes as deep as oak wood. His sharp face clinched a sneer on his ivory teeth, while his finely built hand clutched a honey-tinted vial.
Bluemoon’s heart skipped a beat, “What is that?”
It was too horrible to believe, like a hideous nightmare rearing it’s head and mocking his naïve comfort just the day before.
“Why, I’d expect an executioner such as yourself to keep a better lock and key upon his possessions.” Stillwater replied coolly and reached under his long greasy pea coat. “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?” wrenching a mess of white tangles from beneath his coat. Bluemoon gave a cry of agony as lightning flickered the moment the slice face of Alice was pulled into view.
With a look of forlorn Stillwater puckered his bottom lip and dropped the corpse onto the wooden floor, a pool of her distilled blood soaking the panels. Not even 10, the little girl’s eyes were closed like a child who slept without fear or care, but her mouth was deeply gagged with gauze—Which remained coated and excreted the glistening iron water.
“A-Alice…” Bluemoon’s knees shook so violently and lost all will to work, dropping him to the floor in a horrible blood-curdling cry of loss—like a father at the death of his child, “Alice!” Bluemoon wailed and groped for her pulse, but her veins were as hollow as his heart; empty and without further purpose. Blinded in a haze of burning tears he buried into her soot bathed blond hair and sobbed miserably, tasting the sour tang of her matted blood and the dry as of coal mingling with the salt of his tears.
Stillwater screamed something Bluemoon refused to hear, but received a rash kick to his ribs. “Imbecile! I came to see Redgrave, not the sniveling husk of a man! Stand up, now!” There was a moment of resounded silence then Bluemoon gasped in horror at the realization. Richard was drinking from the vial, the sound of his gulps bombarding the executioner’s eardrums.
“No, Richard, stop!” Bluemoon reached for Stillwater’s leg, only to be rewarded with a blow to the jaw as Stillwater’s body began to jerk and convulse involuntarily, foam boiled and cascaded down the man’s jaws, som eeven finding it’s resting place upon Bluemoon’s horrorfied features. Stillwater’s eyes rolled back into grey orbs, his thick hands grasping at his throat.
“What have you done?” Bluemoon cried and pulled his weak form away from the pulsating Mad-Man. “You’ve made a pact with the Devil, Richard, the Devil!”
The moment he cried the words Richard toppled over a table of glass and became bathed in roaring chemicals, but it was not a cry of agony that met his ears. No, it was a cackle, as though a hag’s voice lay strained and far above it’s forte. The laughter of Richard Stillwater slowly ebbed into a dark, thunderous applause of demension.
“What..” Bluemoon’s neck closed in fear, and he could hardly finish his question. Something wasn’t right, when he took the mixture he never convulsed into insanity like Stillwater, nor foamed on his own saliva. This only meant one thing. “What have you done to my formula?”
Stillwater sat forward, smoke and acidic chemicals drizzling from his gray, almost mint pasted organ. His crooked and muscular frame still shaking with uproarious amusement. “Why,” replied a deep voice of brass, “I improved it.” The aristocrat turned upon Bloomoon and grinned on his bubbling lips.
Neither said anything, though the dilapidated form still cackled and stepped unsteadily forward, his structure sawing like that of an abandoned building.
Tobias bit his lip, “Y-You… Richard, there is no coming back. You’re insane.”
The executioner ducked just in time before a flask of red struck the wall behind him and showered a ray of glass and singed the wallpaper. “No, Tobias, you are!” Stillwater growled, the most distinguished of his features were is jaws, looming and gapping wide. All his once perfect teeth now formed into the foundation resembling that of a bear trap, glimmering with plaque and saliva.
“I saw the genius in Redgrave, the blessing within the curse. I merely…” He fondled musing for the word with a crooked index finger and tapped the chipped yellow nail against his temple “let’s say…”
“You stole it,” Bluemoon’s replied bluntly, his tears now falling to reflect his rage. Stillwater only looked at him, taken aback. “If you want to put it in black and white, I suppose.” His steel fangs clacked in laugher. “Poor little Alice, after she tried so hard to defend your formula…” The beast opened his maw wide and then slammed them shut in a bone battering snap, the point piercing the executioner’s heart as the man seemed to drift slowly to the child’s prostate form.
“N-No,” Tobias whispered, helpless and close to a new wave of tears. Then, that God-Forsaken urge consumed his battered conscious. Bluemoon struck the wall and moaned, his eyes closing while his head rolled in a daze. Even his legs failed him and slid him down to the earth, a pulsating numbness invaded his flesh.
Give in. Give into the insanity, Tobias. The familiar voice purred though his soul, his heart heaving in disgust and resistance to his hormonal offspring dwelling deep within, “I-I…” His throat tightened and vomit was expelled onto the floor, catching Stillwater’s eye.
He gnashed his jaws expertly and cackled, “At last, you’ve come to join me. Thaddeus Redgrave.”