Checker is a Killer who claims not to have any supernatural powers, but is always one step ahead of everyone else, literally. You could dump him at a restaurant, get into a car, drive home, and he'd be sitting on your front porch railing. He is always the first person to be at a crime scene, and always the first person you meet when you go to the bar to get the horrible imagery out of your head.
He is obsessed with knives, and is always collecting them. He likes riddles, mysteries, and is a good sport about things. Sometimes, if a victim has tried hard enough, he'll let them escape. Checker is not always out trying to kill or maim people. He can be very normal, and sometimes will even take off his mask and walk into town, getting a drink at the local bar, and playing games at the arcade. He has the highest score on Time Crysis 3. He is called Checker because of his mask, which is gridded in large black and white squares. He has a good sense of humour, and is known to whisper, "Checkmate." right before he kills someone.
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Checker
The boy with the knives.
0 · 842 views · located in 
The Asheville Forest
a character in “Asheville”, as played by Vercerigo
Description
So begins...
Checker's Story
Rosevault watched the kid enter the bar, sit down, and ask for a Snake Bite. If he was in a normal bar, under normal circumstances, he would've laughed and told the kid to beat it. But here, in this place, he had learned through experience never to assume anything about a Killer. He nodded, and began to prepare the drink. As he did, he grabbed the Italian Sunrise and handed it to the winged guy, and the Pinot Grigio to the tall man.
Mr. Smith glances over at Checker and his smile widens a bit more. "Now we have four people. This is much more fun." He avoided focusing on Checker too much. Mr. Smith knew appearing weak in front of some Killers was a terrible thing to do for your well being, and that if people knew what had happened with the fight at the bridge it would not end well for Checker, or himself. So he decided to avoid showing that they knew each other.
Carlyl looked over at Checker and tilted his head a bit. His eyes moved over the others in the bar, openly staring at each of them longer than necessary. His eyes returned to Checker who sat closest to him. Through his simple cat mask, he realized this was the same person he'd seen at the church graveyard. This made him smile. How coincidental that he would see this killer again in the same night.
Carlyl began laughing softly, holding his hand over the mask where his mouth would be. He turned away to lean on the bar as he snickered, his wings tensing up against his back as his shoulders shook.
Carlyl began laughing softly, holding his hand over the mask where his mouth would be. He turned away to lean on the bar as he snickered, his wings tensing up against his back as his shoulders shook.
Mr. Smith picks up his drink and takes a sip. His smile grows tense as the man in the mask laughs. His hand lowers out of view and when it comes back up it is holding a sawed off shotgun. He presses it to the side of the masked man's head. He looks over at the man with a wide smile on his face. He speaks in a cheerful voice. "Stop laughing. I find it annoying."
Carlyl did stop laughing but he couldn't stop smiling. He held his breath because he knew if he didn't he'd start laughing again. This was why he usually kept himself away from others, especially killers. Much easier to watch from a distance.
"Are you afraid you'll laugh too and make that stick up your ass finally slither out? Or is that where you were hiding this pretty little thing?" He asked from behind his mask. Carlyl's wings stretched out a bit before folding up comfortably against his back rather slowly as to not startle anyone into firing. Carlyle held his breath again before he could start laughing but as his chest quivered, it was getting more and more difficult.
"Are you afraid you'll laugh too and make that stick up your ass finally slither out? Or is that where you were hiding this pretty little thing?" He asked from behind his mask. Carlyl's wings stretched out a bit before folding up comfortably against his back rather slowly as to not startle anyone into firing. Carlyle held his breath again before he could start laughing but as his chest quivered, it was getting more and more difficult.
Mr. Smith chuckles. "Funny. I am going to guess that you kill people with your jokes, because they are just that side splitting." He lets go of the gun and it falls to the ground, but never hits. There is no noise and if anyone were to look it wouldn't be there.
"Oh while I do consider myself to be quite the comedian, I usually just bite their throats out if I want them dead. Or forced abortion. I'll stop there because I'm sure everyone here could talk all night about how they kill. Though I am curious....do you only use guns?" Carlyl asked, tilting his head slightly as he turned on his stool to face Mr. Smith. "Oh but before we get into that subject I think I should introduce myself. Carlyle or Lyle. For the love of all that is holy do not call me Carl." He said, holding out his slender hand decorated with black claws.
Mr. Smith shakes the man's hand with a grip much too strong for his bony hand. "I am Mr. Smith. Yes, I only use guns. I find them to be more fun, and it is easier to fight Hunters. I can go hand to hand though, if I'm fighting a weak Hunter." He grabs his drink and takes another sip.
Carlyle pulled his hand away and curled his fingers into his palm. "No first name? I almost feel offended." He took a deep breath and scratched the surface of the bar with his index finger, cutting into the wood a bit. "Where were you yesterday at 5:03?" Carlyle asked as he continued scratching his claw into the groove he was creating.
Mr. Smith snorts. "I don't like people knowing my first name." He watches the man scratch the bar, thinking. "I was down in the bunker, sleeping. What does it matter to you?" His grin widens. "You get killed and not remember who did it?"
Carlyl's wings tightened against his back as he began laughing again, snickering behind his mask as his shoulders shook with gratitude of the humor in simple things. "No no. I was just curious. I also didn't clarify if it was am or pm." He said with a massive grin moving his mask just slightly.
Mr. Smith shakes is head. "If you think you are clever, you are not. I assumed you meant morning, because I go off a twenty four hour clock." He takes another sip from his drink. "I would like to ask you a question. How do you choose your victims?"
"I....hm...well I don't often choose killers but it's so damn tempting. I usually pick humans I find interesting or at the very least entertaining. When I kill though...I prefer young. Children or infants. Fetuses are incredible. Have you ever eaten one? It's a taste you never forget. And you have to eat it raw while it's still alive. Maybe I should be working at an abortion clinic....though I doubt anyone in their right mind would lay on a table and spread their legs of their own free will." He continued scratching into the groove and looked over at Mr. Smith. "But I rarely get someone so young. I usually settle for children or sheltered adults when I actually eat. Lucky for me, I don't need to eat that often. What about you, Mr. Smith?"
Mr. Smith doesn't seem at all phased. He had heard of much worse. "I kill anyone that refuses to do what I ask of them. As an example if someone doesn't stop laughing when I ask them to, I kill them. If it is a Hunter I kill them because they are my enemy, and any Killers that I have killed before."
"Oh am I your enemy?" Carlyl asked in almost a cooing tone as he pulled his hand back from the bar and began scratching the pad of his thumb. "I am honestly hurt, Mr. Smith. I was already planning our future together."
Mr. Smith's grin widens. "I still think you kill through your jokes, and no you are not my enemy. You would be dead." He takes another sip from his drink and sets it down. He moves in a blur of motion, and before Carlyl can react Mr. Smith has a pistol pressed under his chin. "Bang."
Carlyle tilted his head up a bit, his grin returning behind the mask. "Careful Mr. Smith, the last person who tried to kill me I fell in love with." His right wing slid down to the floor, moving back and forth as it swept the floor gently. "She's no longer of this world but I still have her body stashed away for safe keeping. I couldn't very well let her family put her in a grave. It just wouldn't be fair to bury such beauty. Don't you agree, Mr. Smith?"
Mr. Smith pulls back. "Who said I was going to kill you? If I were to really attack you I would blow your legs off, but we should not fight with each other when there are strong Hunters out there that need to be put down. Besides, you don't look like fun."
Carlyle's wing stopped sweeping the floor and folded itself against his back once again. "I don't look like fun? How is that?" he asked, trying not to be actually offended by this. His claw pierced through his thumb but kept scratching, ignoring the blood that dripped down into his palm.