K/V: Victim
Name: Moira
Age: 31
Sex: F
Characteristics: See image, a young mother of three.
Scene: Home alone in the middle of a weekday.


>>5275
The first thing Marley thought as she woke up, was that she should've trusted her instincts. The moment the man told her to come to film at 11:30PM, in a dusty industrial park in the middle of nowhere, with no one else around, she felt bad vibes coming out of every pore from his body. But, she needed the money bad. It was hard being a young aspiring actress in the City of Angels, and she wasn't desperate enough to start working at a titty bar. Not yet, anyhow.

Marley would've taken the titty bar job over her current predicament, however. She was laid spread eagle on a rusty steel bed frame, with nothing to cover her lithe, young body. Marley was a classic All American beauty, dirty blonde tresses that seemed to shimmer with stripes of gold in the sun, lightly tanned skin, shining baby blue eyes, a cute innie pussy with a neat patch of blonde fur, a bombshell waistline and perky B-cups capped by light pink nipples. She wriggled and squirmed, her heart pounding in nervous anticipation. Something bright lit up, causing her to squint.

Two men had entered the dingy warehouse and had turned on the lights. One of them Marley recognized as the guy who had met her outside in the parking lot. "Hey, asshole!", she screamed. "Let me out of here!" The men didn't respond, didn't even look her way. They set up lights, audio equipment, and a bunch of seriously high end looking film cameras. Marley was no camera geek, but even she knew a thing or two about videocameras, and what the two men had brought were capable of recording in 8k. Whoever was bankrolling this freakshow had some deep pockets.

The two men finished setting up. They walked past her without even taking a glance. A part of her was insulted by that, she had worked hard on keeping fit and they didn't even want to look? The door clattered open, and another man entered, alone.
She didn't recognize him either. Not that she could, as he was wearing a balaclava over his face and a white cooks apron over his chest and torso. He was carrying a duffel bag, which he dropped beside the bed frame. "Hey, lemme outta this!", Marley pleaded. The masked man turned and looked at her. Marley thought she saw a look of pity flash across his slate grey eyes, before he turned away. The man unzipped the duffel bag, reached in and pulled out a katana.

Marley's blood ran cold. The Japanese sword shone underneath the lights, reflecting the wavy pattern of the blade steel.
The man walked over to the camera set up, adjusted the angle and elevation, and hit record. He walked in front of the camera and bowed towards it. "H-hey, what the fuck is going on!?", Marley stuttered, her tongue tripping over itself as fear filled her mind. Paying no heed to her protests, the man walked over to her restrained body and placed the tip of the sword just above her neck. Marley turned her head away as she felt the cold steel touch her skin. The cold sensation went away as the man raised the sword above his head. Marley closed her eyes. This was all just a bad dream. She'd wake up right now, still in her bed, her pet cat curled up beside her.

The sword came down.

Marley's eyes opened for the last time. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. The man leaned over and grabbed a fistful of her dirty blonde bangs. The world swung around as her head was raised off the dirty concrete floor, blood pouring from the bottom of her neck stump. She tried to comprehend what was happening, but there was a mental fog slowing down her thought process. The man cradled her in his arms and walked towards the camera. He knelt down and presented the severed head to the lens. The last thing Marley saw was the reflection of her face in the camera lens, her mouth slack jawed in a comically stupid expression. Then, the lights went out.