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I watch eagerly as Devon steps forward to make the first mark. I’m itching to join him but I force myself to hold back. For now at least. While we all need justice for Callie, Dev needs this the most. There’s something personal underlying his thirst for vengeance: guilt. And a blame he lays at his own feet that’s heavier than the rest of ours for some reason.
I just don’t know what it is or why he’s feeling it. My guess would be because he kissed her the day she was taken. While we all know there’s no way the two events can be linked, I also know that Guilt is a bitch like that; she twists reality into something warped and poisonous, until she festers inside you and corrupts everything that’s good and true. That’s what’s happened to Devon.
Normally to do this job, I have to slip into a persona. Become someone I’m not. Tex is the same; he prefers research and history and theory to getting his hands dirty. But Dev? He becomes more himself with every kill. He lives for this shit, whereas for me, it’s just a job, another day at the office, so to speak. Sadly, it’s not the kind of job you can choose to walk away from, so I suck it up for Dev’s sake. He loves it though; I can't see him ever wanting to quit, even if it was an option.
Obviously, because of Callie, this time it’s different. I can see the demons in Devon battling to control him, to take over and slash this guy to pieces in a furious frenzy. But then what we’re doing would be murder, rather than justice for a worthy cause. Or so I tell myself. Dev probably doesn’t give a fuck. And I doubt that line of defence would stand very strong in a court of law. Not that it’ll ever come to that. We’re far too good at what we do and we have connections most people couldn’t even dream of.
I’m interrupted from my thoughts by the worm dangling in front of me screaming. I blink and see that Devon has just drawn his metal comb down the length of the guy’s exposed torso. Angry red welts have started to rise along the track the comb took.
And this guy is screaming already? Please, that first pass must have felt like foreplay with a feather. Or it will have, by the time we’re done. Not that he’ll live to tell the tale or be able to make those comparisons. But still, I’m unimpressed with his feeble reaction. Take it like a man already.
I know that I can step forward and flay this guy’s flesh from his bones in minutes, but as Devon makes a second pass down the snivelling little shit’s left side, I realise that he wants to take his time. Draw it out. Play.
I can do that. For Callie, I want to do it. But it’s highly unlikely that this guy will tell us anything. He’s a nobody. A wannabe. So we may as well have some fun with him. If nothing else it might send a message to those in charge that we’re coming for them.
So, I match Devon’s strokes, running my savage comb over the right side of his body. The guy is sobbing, begging incoherently, and we haven’t spilled a drop of blood yet. He’s so fucking pathetic it makes me sick.
Stroke for stroke we warm the guy’s body, each pass of the comb increasing in pressure infinitesimally, until his skin is pink and striped. I admire the raised welts, but it isn’t enough. It’s no way near enough. Nothing ever will be for what Callie went through.
Unsurprisingly, Dev gets bored first. This isn’t satisfying his thirst for violence.
Grabbing the worm’s right foot, he rakes the metal barbs of the comb’s teeth across the sole of his foot, repeating on the left, drawing blood and sobs. As Devon gets to work carving up the tops of his feet, I slash deep and quick across the back of his knees, causing his legs to buckle.
His flaccid piss-stinking cock hangs pathetically between his legs and I pass the comb across the tops of his thighs, dangerously close to his tip. He jerks and tries to pull away from me which earns him a sharp slap around the face, comb in hand. The result of my fury instantly erupts across his face, and I know that the skin irritant I added to the teeth of the comb will be coming into full effect any moment.
The guy starts screaming again, and I know that his body is on fire where I’ve broken the skin and the irritant is working its magic. Good. A sick sense of satisfaction curls my lips. But I’m bored of playing. I want to draw blood too. Why should Devon have all the fun?
“Please! No…please!” he screams pathetically, annoying the hell out of me. I should just rip his vocal cords out and be done.
Sighing, I dig deep to find my patience, trying to block out the pathetic piece of shit’s snivels. I shake my head at his shameful display of weakness, turning to his back and surveying my blank canvas. Time to get to work.
Fast as lightning, I reach out and slash diagonally from his right shoulder to his left buttock, blood immediately gushing from the strength of my strike.
I repeat the action, flaying from left to right this time, watching as small ribbons of diamond-cut flesh flutter to the floor. The stench of piss and sweat is immediately overpowered by blood, although the bleeding itself is minimal. I’ve practised. I know the strength and power needed to cause maximum impact – namely pain and suffering – with minimum damage. We need to draw this out. He’s our guinea pig of sorts, a test run almost, to see what we need to do differently when we hit those dirtier bastards further up the food chain. The really special toys – like the electric combs Tex helped me design – would be wasted on this maggot. But I am looking forward to using them, especially when we combine them with water.
Methodically, I get to work, tearing his flesh from his limbs slither by agonising, torturously slow, slither. The worm paints the air with his screaming as Devon and I paint the floor with his blood.
Joe: I really need to see you
Callie: Oh
Joe: Do you not want to meet? I thought you did before. Has something changed?
Callie: No. I still do…
Joe: But?
Callie: But what if you don’t like me?
Joe: That’s crazy! How could I not? We have so much in common, we talk every day, and have been texting for weeks. I feel like you know me better than anybody
Callie: :) okay
Joe: Okay? Like, okay, okay? As in, we can meet? I promise I won’t let you down this time! I can finally take you out on a real honest to god proper date?
Callie: Yes :) when?
Joe: Soon. Leave it with me. I want everything to be perfect
