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“Oh my,” he said as the memory entered his head. “Now that's going down memory lane.” He took a longer sip and got up. Without taking her eyes off the screen the Crow elaborated. “Dragged them all out to the barn and lopped their heads off.” “None of them ran,” he said quietly. Grabbing Jonathan's ankle and dragging it along the floor he headed towards the teenager. She stopped typing and looked up at him. “What was that my love?” Grabbing the young teenage girl by her clothes and lifting her with ease he turned his head towards the Crow. “The axe started flying and none of them ran. They just stood there. As if when I approached a new Deering, I would stop and spare them.” He found it just as amusing, and confusing now as it was then. Shaking his head he walked towards the kitchen with a teenager in one hand and dragging headless Jonathan in the other. A trail of blood could be followed all the way to Mr. Gable's neck from the living room to the kitchen. Lifting the girl above table he dropped her with a thud. Swinging Jonathan towards his free hand he caught his shirt and then dropped him on the table beside a still surprised looking Jenny. “That's right, I think it was more utter fear and shock,” she recalled passively. “Who was that pudgy little German who took the fall?” “Mr. Probst,” the Raven recalled. Sinking his sickle into the headless man's neck he jerked with one quick motion. The blade ran down the body with a steady ease. Clothing and skin parted for fatty flesh to burst up and outwards. “Male or female my love?” he asked. She thought for a moment then said, “Male.” She continued to type as the memory brought it forward. “Anton Probst, now that was a trial.” “He did work out a bit,” the Raven said examining Jonathan... ... middle of paper ... ...I love Chicago.” A little piece of flesh covered in ketchup landed on the table. “Lover,” he said not being able to take his eyes off of it. Picking it up and tossing it back into her mouth she covered this time. “Sorry.” “Do you know he is still in Philadelphia?” “I know my love,” she sighed knowing the story intimately. “I was there when you signed the papers to have his skeleton donated to the college museum. Remember?” Waiting until his mouth was empty he chewed and chewed. Finally, she thought he was messing with her. Her eyes grew as he finally swallowed. “Chicago you say?” She became excited again, as if hearing it for the first time. “I love Chicago.” “I know you do my love. And, Chicago loves you.” “So…” she said holding a new piece of ketchup slathered flesh awaiting his reply. “The Windy City might be nice,” he said and laughed. “Make some new memories.”

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