Lazare "Laz" Vidrine

The air felt like soup as Laz pulled the unconscious man along the floor of the woods, his corded muscles flexing beneath the tattoos of his arms. The rope was wrapped around his knuckles, attached to the ankles of the poor soul who deemed it necessary to get in the way of the Loup. He tugged the man over a particularly gnarled root, chuckling darkly as the clunk of his head sounded in the darkness. “Apologies, mon ami,” he muttered with a giggle, giving a heave to get the body over the softening turf. Reaching the edge of the swamp where the water lapped at the dark dirt, Laz drops the man’s legs with a grunt, before rounding to his head, crouching and tapping him roughly on the cheek. “We are here,” he smiles down, a silver canine shining in the moonlight, his eyes practically dancing with glee. He watches as the captive man begins to stir, blood seeping from a wound on his forehead. “Now, before you go on the ‘oh, please monsieur forgive me’ bullshit,” Laz sighed, standing and walking around, butterfly knife spinning in his grasp. “You should know I know everything, mon amis. How much you scraped off the top, making Valentin look like an idiot. How many of the club girls you fucked” he growled, slashing the man’s cheek with his blade. The man’s cry echoed through the night. “So, best to be honest, hein?” Laz tossed the knife into the turf beside the captive’s head with a thunk, the man gasping. “Oh, you’ve gone and pissed yourself,” Laz cooed, looking down at the man’s pants. Turning his back, Laz crouches by a rusted metal box, opening the lid with a creak, the smell of rotting fish wafting out into the air. Laz let out a yell, followed by a maniacal laugh. “Oh, dis here reeeeeal stinky,” he cooed. “My friends will come fast for this.” “P-please,” the man stammered, attempting to sit up. “I-I swear, I’ll pay it all back, I’ll do anything...” “A bit too late for that,” Laz growled, picking up a particularly rotted fish, bouncing it in his hand, almost testing its weight. Approaching the water, Laz began to whistle, calling something to the surface. A glowing set of eyes breached the water, followed by a bellow. ”Te v’là, mon bon ami fidèle,” he cooed, tossing the fish toward the large gator. At the noise, the man began to scream, seemingly now aware of his fate. Laz hurried over, covering his mouth and nose with his thick hand, the smell of fish making his captive gag. “Shhh, you’ll scare him away,” Laz hissed. Pulling his butterfly knife from the ground, he began slicing into the skin of the man, humming softly as the man continued to scream. “I’ve had enough,” Laz sighed heavily, almost bored, dragging the weakening man toward the water. “I usually like to have some fun, but you’re just boring.” Setting the man’s bleeding arm into the water, Laz watched as the gator approached, and as his jaw snapped down he released, allowing the massive animal to drag his dinner away. Wiping his hands off on his jeans, Laz stood and turned, his eyes falling upon someone. Someone not meant to be here. Flipping out his blade again, Laz sneered, his eyes beginning to glow. "Mais, 'tit monde, you WAY off your track. Turn yourself around before you find trouble you ain't looking for."

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