Post by DIMITRI LEMARCHAL on Sept 4, 2015 21:17:07 GMT
DIMITRI LEMARCHE
A bloodstained story,
Being born into a middle class family would, to most people, be considered a disadvantage, but Dimitri would never count himself among one of those nay-sayers. His father had been Lord something-or-other, Dimitri's interest in him had never really been peaked. He had made his only important contribution to Dimitri's life when he impregnated Dimitri's mother, a young woman by the name of Aceline. She had been a lady of noble birth, but when she was found to be pregnant out of wedlock, he (along with her family and all those in her social circle) shunned her. Her father, a man by the name of Philippe, bribed her with a suitable sum of money per annum in order to remove herself from the family’s sight. With this he bought a comfortable home in the slums of Paris and Aceline claimed to all, but her own son, that her husband had died of consumption. Something that despite its stigma was preferable to her reality. She adopted the last name LeMarche from a gravestone she found and as her mind deteriorated from the rejection of all around her she began to believe her own lie and visited the gravestone over and over. Dimitri was happy to assist this charade if it meant that he didn't have to deal with his mother's anguish and as a result anger. Dimitri found it difficult to comprehend simple human emotions and found direct contact with his mother impossible. As his mother was consistently absent visiting the graveyards, quite a lot of Dimitri's childhood was spent alone occupying himself with little pursuits.
In order to feed himself Dimitri began catching rats, but later this grew to catching larger animals and thieving from sellers. However, even as he grew and began to get jobs in the criminal underbelly of Paris to feed himself, Dimitri found himself continually killing animals in order to relieve his anger and had a particular fascination with watching the life slowly slip from their eyes and actions. At the age of 13 Dimitri killed his first human. A fellow pickpocket who attempted to thieve from Dimitri after the two suffered from a slow night. Dimitri slit his throat before he had even thought it through and rejoiced in beating him with his fists as he bled out. It was upon the discovery of this pickpocket’s body that Dimitri was offered a step up in the world. The head of the largest criminal gang in Paris was a man by the name of Adrien Berger and he offered Dimitri the opportunity to act in his small but elite group of assassins. Dimitri accepted and found as he worked that the only time he truly felt any kind of pleasure was the moment when a person’s blood spilled forth and coated even a small part of him in their warmth. He actually felt connected to that person and would actively attempt to avoid bathing after a hit in order to cling onto the feeling of that connection. The feeling never lasted enough and Dimitri was forced to take on more and more hits in order to retain the feeling of connection to the world.
Berger noticed his enthusiasm in his job and at the tender age of 15 he was promoted to Adrien's bodyguard. Dimitri and Adrien seemed to get along, Dimitri felt it difficult to relate to any human but took the chance to study how Adrien related to others and attempted to affect his manner with others and in local taverns. Over the course of time he perfected human interactions to the point where he could even fool his own mother. As he began to appear to more and more normal his mother grew actively interested in her son and spent less time in the graveyard. Her lie had overtaken her mind and with the perfect son she had expected she seemed to feel that her life was complete. Dimitri grew resentful of her the more she became attentive of him, it unveiled to him how much she had failed him as a child and near to his 19th birthday he pushed her down the stairs and when that failed in killing her, he snapped her neck. Then left the house without care for it or the money from his “father”. Shortly after Dimitri killed Adrien in cold blood and took over his gang with little contest. Well little contest that could not be easily crushed.
Over the next ten years he expanded his empire, absorbing smaller criminal gangs to strengthen his own and grew the gang to the point of owning eight tenths of Paris. However Dimitri carries out his own hits and kills people to relieve his urges. He carries out each kill in the same way he carried out his first one; cutting upon the throat and then allowing himself to attack the body itself with whatever is handy be it his hands or a weapon. He is endlessly amused by the moniker that has been given to him “The Rattlesnake” it originally occurred as an accident, while attempting to take down a small-time rival his knife trailed across a fence and a passing witness heard it, later catching sight of his form retreating into the distance. The papers delighted in this information about the notorious killer and Dimitri was approved the trait enough to continue for each further kill. Delighting in the looks of panicked fear that crossed his victim’s face before they had even located his form.
It is currently his 38th year and though the revolution occurred around him little changed in his life. His middle class status and relationships with the lowest of the low in the city allowed him the escape the eyes of the revolution. His men are all truly loyal and would never betray him to those that could take him down simply for fear for their own lives. Outwardly he supports the revolution and is a trustworthy citizen but inwardly he cares little for any of it only enjoying the executions for the gore and the reactions of those around him.
A breathless voice.
The rain was coming down hard and Dimitri sat on the gravestone for which he was named with careless ease. He wore no overcoat and delighted in the people running franticly in the street below. The lucky part of the Summer months was that the rain held only warmth in it and if it had been a little warmer it would have stirred the same emotions in him that other incidents did, but as it was not that warm it only created memories that he allowed himself to be distracted by for several minutes before he pulled himself out of it. He had been asked to come here to aid a payment transfer but the irony of it being this exact graveyard was not lost on him. He wondered where his mother was now. He was sure she would have wanted to be buried here but a small part of him took satisfaction in the fact that she would never achieve that goal. A small part of him hoped that she was still in the house being worn away in the bowls of the house that she purchased with her dirty money. He briefly entertained the notion of killing someone and specifically putting them within the foundations of the house, but the effort would not be worth it. He would have the waste his workers time getting them to take apart a house, buy the house to ensure he saw the renters reactions. It would be too much effort for so little reward.
There was a sound of footsteps through the graveyard and he allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction as the man failed to notice him. Taking the man’s appearance in Dimitri repressed the urge to smile. He was terrified, shaking in a way that Dimitri couldn’t tell was solely as a result of the rain or simply the fear of meeting a man such as himself but it was written all over his face and manner. Among Dimitri’s many endeavors he charged for protection from other rival gangs. This man was a single baker of sizable girth and Dimitri was suddenly aware of how long it had been since he had killed anyone. The man carried no purse and with a repressed smile he slipped over beside a mausoleum and ran his knife along the fence that surrounded it. The man shuddered and let out a cry and Dimitri laughed out loud before slipping forward and slicing through his neck with a smooth slice. The man gurgled and grasped at his neck before dropping to the floor. Dimitri allowed him a moment to gurgle before toeing him over to his back. Beside him on the floor was a broken tombstone and with a swift movement he crashed the largest broken piece into the man over and over until he was unrecognizable. The blood covered his arms and most of his upper torso and he took a moment to stroke it into his right arm as if hypnotized before reaching down and scooping up a coin purse. “What a great misfortune.” He stated opening it. “It appears that you had raised the correct amount to clear all debts for an annum. I truly must work on my enthusiasm.” He smirked before giving the body a graceful bow and moving off, regretting the rain for the first time as it washed the evidence of his “enthusiasm” from his body.
Your Alias: Shelly
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Time Zone: GMT
