The Penguin King walked up to the detective, who decided to stay speechless a little while longer. The cadavers were sprawled out on the floor, and you just wanted to see them twitch, even though you never wanted to see so much blood.
“Heh,” scoffed the King, “This floor is still too clean.”
Adrian kept watching from behind the curtains, holding his breath like it was his last. He was the last one they were looking for, and the butcher didn’t rat them out.
“It’s only what they deserve… Cut off their fingers.”
The butcher did as he was told, and the detective was forced to watch. The handcuffs pierced his wrists like blades. Cold, wet blades.
When the masquerade upstairs started, the Penguin King smiled at the detective and took his bag of fingers up with him. The butcher started dragging one of the bodies to a freezer, but suddenly got hit in the back of the head with a pan and knocked out. Adrian ran past the detective who was going crazy.
“Hey! Who the hell are you!?”
Adrian stopped and turned around, looking straight into the dreaded man’s eyes.
“Just another assailant.”
“Hey!! Come back!”
Back at the masquerade, there was a slow dance with the creepiest music you’ve ever heard. Violins out of sync, and low trumpets, that gave long blows, something like a scratch on a whiteboard, and sirens.
The Penguin King put on his mask and entered into the tuxedos and puffy dresses. Pale vampires who al have a secret to keep from one another. It seemed almost hostile, but that’s a normal thing.
Adrian came into the masquerade, and grabbed a mask on the drink table. The mask was of a vulture, but who would’ve known it was one of only three at the party. Three other men had broken in and poisoned the drinks. When The Penguin King noticed from a distance the liquids being poured in, he drew out his fangs in fate and bumped into Adrian, who was only trying to escape unnoticed.
Adrian’s mask held a red flag, and the Penguin King stabbed him with a stake right in between his chest, then grabbed his mask as he fell.
It is never expected of a father to ever hurt his son, but that’s what just happened. Everyone was in shock, and the other two detectives started sprinting into the pillars. The butcher was waiting just behind one and swung his sharpest cutter at them like an axe on a tree. The other detective brought out a gun and aimed it at the butcher, but was tackled by a stream of vampires.
Adrian looked up into the artwork on the ceiling of the hall. This was his final moment. To die in the hands of the Penguin Army was only an honorary death, and his father, with waterfalls hanging down his wide pupils, took his own fate in his own hands as well.
The detective in the cooking hall, slipped his hands out and found his way into a cave, looking for an escape, but most likely never to come out of it again.