HSRK

Don-the chase must continue (sketch series) p.2

Don had a new nickname among the cartels—“Serpiente”. He thought it to be apt. Snakes are known for not only their deadly venom, but their cunning. Snakes are not rash, they are stealthy, calculating. Snakes are symbols of both desire and death. Don smiled. Desire. He leered at the woman in the doorway. “Are you the one they call ‘Serpiente’?” she questioned, looking his lean form up and down, already knowing the answer. “And you are—?” He was known for his lust for women nearly as well as for his ruthlessness in business. If Don was the snake, she’d have to become the charmer, she thought to herself. If she played the game right, she’d be able to keep him hypnotized, to sway the outcome to her favor. She lied, “A gift…from Carlos. To celebrate your new business deal.” Don crooked his fingers, motioning for her to come closer. She nervously closed the distance, looking him up and down. He was lean, but strong, suntanned skin glistening with perspiration. His hair long and wild, his close cropped beard accentuated the sharpness of his jaw. His clothes were designer, a contrast to his wild hair and gauge piercing. But it was his eyes she found to be the most unnerving…they pierced into her, making her insides flip-flop, her knees weaken. She found herself getting lost in them. She didn’t know it yet, but she had made a fatal mistake. She failed to realize that Don was both the snake and the charmer, and she was merely being played like the pungi…

Writer: tiacapan-srk

Artist: xeny-art

PS: Artwork is intended as fan-art. The character belong to their rightful owners.

This is a hyper-realistic drawing. All rights reserved xeny-art 2014 Do not post without reference to the artist » xeny-art

Bigger file » [here] «

PPS: Request to all, not only put likes but comment please! It is very important to us ;)

Me and Tia a.k.a. tiacapan-srk starting a new project called

" Don-the chase must continue"

Which will consist of Tia’s storyline and my illustration to it. Kinda like comics but on a higher level. 

~ Part.1 ~

The tropical sun beat down on him. The air was thick and heavy, and his shirt clung to his sweat-drenched body. His skin was dark now from the tropical sun. His hair long and wild. He was on the run again, his immunity in Germany having been revoked. Interpol was looking for him within his known territory, so it was the perfect time to make a move, to expand his empire. He already controlled the supply in Asia, the trade in Europe, and now he wanted South America’s vast supply network. For the last few months, he’d been mercilessly taking out its current leadership. Don didn’t like to share.

The tussle with the five men guarding the entrance to the makeshift warehouse had been merely a nice warmup for Don. He dispatched them each one-by-one, coming away with only a few bruises and one bullet in the arm. A mere scratch by his standards. He wrapped a scrap of cloth around his bicep to stop the bleeding, pulling it tight with his teeth. He picked up the arm of the goon who had shot him, turning the wrist to check his watch, then let it drop limp to the floor beside the lifeless body. The delay had been an annoyance, allowing his target to escape out the rear door, running for his life. He paused in the open door, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a sinister smile. He enjoyed it much more when they put up a fight.

Don slithered through the slum’s maze of narrow back-alleys moving like a shadow. He was acutely aware of his surroundings, muscles taught, ready to strike at any threat, but focused on his prize. His grip on the shotgun tightened, readying himself to use it. As he turned the corner he caught a glimpse of his prey and scattered a shot in that direction, just as the man ducked around the bend. Don glided up to the bend, peering his head around the corner. His eyes narrowed at the sight of a blood trail on the dusty ground. He followed it cautiously—a wounded animal could be unpredictable. The trail led through the door of a wooden shack with a corrugated tin roof. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Don taunted the wounded man. That drew a volley of wild shots sending wood splintering, and Don ducking for cover, as the man emptied his revolver in a desperate attempt to fend off certain death.

Don heard the click of the empty gun, and a whimper of fear as he entered the dark shack. “Lo siento! Lo siento! I’m so sorry, Don…. por favor….no me mates…Don’t kill me, please” The man known as “El Implacable”, The Unforgiving, begged for his life. Don stood over him, his face twisted in disgust. It was time to take out the trash.

Writer: tiacapan-srk

Artist of illustration: xeny-art

PS: To see the details on the drawing click >HERE<