Chapter 26
Misha
The prospect of meeting Zero eye to eye was making Misha sweat like a pig going to slaughter. He would do it though. He wouldn’t run. He had Grim on his side, and he was not giving the fucking bastard the satisfaction of seeing Misha cower in fear. He held on to Grim’s forearm as they drove out of town and followed the monotone voice of the navigation system in Grim’s cell phone, which broke the eerie silence in the car once in a while. Tension was jolting off both him and Grim without either of them saying a thing.
Before they left the clubhouse, Grim had contacted Tooth and Priest about where they were going, but with the narrow time window Zero gave them, there was no way they could wait for the Coffin Nails to show up right away. Not at three in the morning.
The coordinates led them to an area outside of Detroit. Fenced parks grew along the narrow asphalt road so overgrown with vegetation that it seemed most hadn’t been tended to for a long time. Grim slowed down as they approached their destination, directed by the navigation’s lifeless instructions. Misha’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed a break in the thick line of tall evergreens. There was a gate there, old-world style, with stone columns on each side, but it was open wide despite the rust visible in the glow of their headlights.
Grim glanced at Misha briefly, but he said nothing as they entered the darkness, leaving the safety of the public road. It was almost like driving through the woods with thick shadows enveloping the trees and bushes that had creeped onto the driveway since the last full-time occupant of this address left. It was so dark that once the road faced a clearing, the sky ahead seemed like the bright blue skies over Grim’s house in the woods.
The car rushed into a field of grass with just a few trees spotting the flat grounds around a gothic structure. From afar, it looked like a castle Misha imagined could be a setting for Jane Eyre . There was light coming from the open doors at the front of the vast building, and in the background of the bright sky, a single tower stared at Misha with the moonlit eyes of its windows. A sinking feeling curled in his stomach as Grim drove into the empty yard and stopped the car in front of the stairs that led to the main entrance.
The gravel crunching underneath the wheels recalled the rasp of the saw against Misha’s bone, and he shuddered, rubbing his face in an attempt to keep as calm as possible. Grim didn’t have any conventional weapons on him, but he was prepared, though as much as Misha trusted him, he’d known Zero for long enough to know the extent of his madness. This evening could end in ways he didn’t even want to envision.
As they approached the heavy doors, a big bald man emerged from inside the building and gave them the kind of stoic nod that made all the hairs on Misha’s arms bristle. The man searched Grim and even gave Misha a quick pat down that made him want to hold on to Grim and never let go.
They went inside, with Grim pushing the wheelchair up a stone ramp, followed by the bodyguard who shut the heavy doors behind them.
Misha squeezed his hands on the wheels as he rolled inside a grand entrance hall. With tall windows letting in a lot of light even at night, he looked around the naked walls, stripped of most of the flowery wallpaper and even plaster. There was a reception space ahead of him and long corridors topped by arched ceilings spreading to both sides. He stirred when the bright light of the guard’s flashlight hit his back and confronted Misha with a bastardized version of himself stretching over the floor: hunched and small on a pair of giant, elongated wheels.
“This way,” said the guard, and instead of walking into one of the large walkways, he directed the stream of light at an inconspicuous doorway behind the reception area. “You go first,” he added, and Misha shuddered at the metallic clang that he immediately recognized as the gun safety mechanism.
“Shall we?” asked Grim, patting Misha’s back.
Misha needed to be brave tonight. If not for himself, then for Dennis. The moment Zero’s voice penetrated every pore of his skin, he knew this meeting wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t even sure if they had a plan of taking Zero down, but Grim claimed it would be taken care of. Misha had to cling to every bit of hope fate threw at him.
“Finally! My dear guests,” Zero said, and his words resonated in the empty room as an echo that whispered with a split second’s lateness. “We get to meet and exchange gifts.”
It was some kind of ballroom, judging by its size, but the sight of fat metal bars blocking all the huge windows gave Misha a shiver. They were trapped. There was an armed man behind their back, Grim was defenseless, unless he intended to kill Zero with toothpicks. His hand itched to hold Grim’s, but even as his stomach turned and his fingers shook, he knew he shouldn’t be obstructing Grim’s movements. Grim was his only chance to get out of here alive and save Dennis.
They approached Zero, who turned on his heel to face them, handsome as he’d always been in his pristine cream-colored suit. The soft smile ghosting across his lips awoke memories Misha had tried to bury for such a long time, and yet, being confronted with it again called back images of bright red on pale expensive fabrics and the graceful smile on Zero’s face as he brutally rammed his cock inside Misha. It was as if the screams and fear weren’t enough. The pervert needed to be covered in blood every time he came. And with that ageless face of his, it seemed like all the creepy legends could be true, and the two of them were about to face a ghoul straight from a nightmare.
Misha felt sick. His throat was blocked, his stomach curled into a knot, sweat was soaking into his T-shirt, and even his hands were stiff, weak. It was difficult to roll the wheelchair forward, and it was only when Grim pushed it from behind that Misha could exhale his relief. A second goon emerged from the shadows with a chunky flashlight in hand. He approached a simple wooden chair and placed it on the seat before switching it on.
Misha’s heart became a black hole as he followed the ray of white light, which brought out a whole palette of purples and browns on Dennis’s naked body. He stood on another chair, shivering like a dying puppy, and a noose hung loosely around his neck from one of the thick beams underneath the ceiling. His lips were covered with duct tape, but he still let out a little sob every now and then.
Zero looked back at him, seeming completely at ease with two muscled goons in charge of his safety, though with both the bodyguards giving the vibe of spec-op soldiers, Misha could understand why. The cold steel of assault rifles was enough of a warning for him.
“You’re Zero, I presume,” said Grim, and Zero’s eyes darted toward him for the first time.
“So you are the good soul who picked up this little mongrel after he fled his home,” he said, stepping closer.
Misha couldn’t bear to look at Zero and glanced at Dennis instead, desperate to make sure he was fine. Their eyes met, and guilt rolled over Misha’s heart, trampling any hope he had before the unexpected phone call awoke them in the middle of the night. He knew the look Dennis was giving him. It was pure, unadulterated terror. Dennis would rather die right here than have Zero take him back to his current headquarters. Misha’s eyes stung, and he blinked away the tears that pushed at his eyes when he remembered all the times he faked a connection with Dennis, just to lure him into Zero’s grasp and save his own skin. Nothing in the world could ever make up for that kind of betrayal
When he spoke to Zero, Grim’s warm tenor was as calm as it always was. “I’m far from being a kind soul. I didn’t save him out of sympathy.”
Misha felt his face tingling when it drained of blood. He trusted Grim. He loved Grim, but far too much truth rang in his words. It was as if Grim were seeking a common ground with Zero by revealing a part of him that Misha knew Grim was ashamed of. The part, which wanted Misha just for his stumps, for the way he took cock on screen. Maybe it was a necessity, but it still hurt to hear him say such things out loud.
A slight frown ghosted across Zero’s face, but he finally laughed. “Not what I expected. You’re a bold one. What’s your name?” he asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and offered the pack to Grim, who declined with a gesture.
“I’m Logan. What about you? Is Zero your real name?”
Zero blew out some smoke. “It is now.”
Grim nodded, his body relaxed as if he were about to go for a ride on his beautiful Harley. It was odd to hear him introduce himself with a name he no longer used, but maybe this time he was Logan? Maybe it really wasn’t Grim who entered this place at Misha’s side?
Zero stepped toward the two of them, and one of the goons immediately raised the rifle, aiming it at Grim. It made Misha so tense he could throw up any second.
“I’m glad you brought him here so that I can say my goodbyes the right way. Would you mind if I touched him?” asked Zero, as if he really somehow considered Misha transferrable property.
Grim pushed his hands into his front pockets. “I would.”
Zero looked up at him, blinking. “Well, I will still do it. If you say no, my man’s gonna blow your head off your shoulders. It seems to me you are confusing simple courtesy with a real question.”
“That might be the case,” said Grim. “I’m a farm boy. Nuanced social interaction was never one of my strong points.”
Zero laughed, and with the way his eyes followed Grim, the strange duality Grim displayed piqued Zero’s interest.
“How about you show me your home video?”
Grim waited a whole two seconds before handing over the flash drive, maybe just to show that he wouldn’t be blindly compliant, but Zero accepted the device without a word and walked over to the window. Misha noticed a laptop on the windowsill. His blood rushed, and he was grateful for the wheelchair keeping him up, because his head became uncomfortably light the moment Zero opened the computer and connected the flash drive.
He looked at one of the goons, the bald giant who invited Grim and Misha into the building. “T4, where’s the projector? I’m sure Dennis wants to watch the movie as much as I do?”
Misha let out a quiet whine, but he was ready to accept the consequences of his actions. He stared at his stumps, hidden away by the pinned-up sweatpants, but eventually, the room became slightly brighter, and he looked up at the large rectangular screenshot of a computer screen on the wall. The peaceful picture of a green forest at sunrise had the same quality that Zero’s suits had. It was a mask. A mask that obscured all the ugly faces of the man who tortured people for fun.
A window popped open, revealing the one file in the folder. A movie that lasted less than fifteen minutes. It seemed much, much longer in real time. A quarter of an hour seemed hardly enough for the amount of torture Grim inflicted on Tomas. A human life terminated within such a short time frame. It was less than the length of an average cartoon.
Zero looked back at them, as if hesitating whether he should open the file. “Misha, come over. I want to share this with you. ”
Misha sank into the wheelchair, and Grim eventually pushed the chair forward, but Zero snorted and stopped them with a gesture.
“No, my friend. You stay right there. I’m not interested in you.”
Grim hesitated but eventually let go, leaving Misha to confront his fear alone. His attention dispersed when the chair wiggled under Dennis, but one of Zero’s bodyguards steadied him before he could fall, and the relief was enough to pump Misha’s muscles with just enough strength to approach his biggest fear.
His knees were going soft and his shoulders tensed as he rolled the wheelchair toward Zero. It was like walking on a tightrope over an endless canyon full of spikes that would pierce his body if he fell. He was out of breath, and his brain blanked, defying Misha and leaving him without words. His silence didn’t seem to bother Zero, and the bright smile the man gave him was enough to send Misha into a well of unwanted memories. The pain had been so intense. He was going crazy just smelling Zero’s favorite cologne, but unlike an abused dog, he was not ready to bite the hand that slid down his cheek. Without Grim at his side, Misha felt completely defenseless in the face of Zero’s cruelty.
“Show me your legs. I want to see my handiwork one last time,” whispered Zero with a rasp to his voice.
Misha took a sharp breath, fighting against his windpipe, which abruptly clenched, as if refusing to be agreeable. Instead of an answer, a broken sob left Misha’s mouth, and his eyes overflowed with tears the moment he felt those warm, bloodthirsty hands on him.
They were on his head. Zero would make him suck his cock. He’d make Grim watch, and then he’d have them both made into quad amputees, to be abused without any chance to fight back. They shouldn’t have come here, yet if they left Dennis to die, what would that make them? They couldn’t run all their lives.
“Didn’t you hear me, Misha?” asked Zero in that soft-spoken voice that was like a callback to a much more vulnerable time. Misha cried, squeezing his hands over the soft fabric of his sweats. He wanted to do what was required of him, be the brave man Grim needed him to be, but terror made his fingers stiff and uncompliant as hot tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Is that necessary?” asked Grim, and before Misha could even comprehend what his words meant, Zero’s fingers were unfolding the fabric that hid away his stumps. He screamed, but no sound came out, and so he just watched wet spots dot his pants as his stumps gradually emerged into the cool air .
“Shut up. You’re making my boy breathless with that complaining,” hissed Zero.
Zero was touching him, and Misha was helpless to stop him from doing so. He couldn’t even move as those invading fingers slowly stripped away all the dignity he had regained throughout the last few weeks.
“I missed you,” whispered Zero, and his voice sounded oddly intimate, almost like a confession, “You suffered so beautifully for me.”
Misha choked on a sob and wouldn’t look up, but it didn’t seem it was required from him.
The movie started.
In the cool glow of the car’s headlights, Tomas was hanging head down like a pig ready for slaughter. Misha was there too, facing away from the camera, unyielding to the man’s protests. It was almost as if the disabled man in the wheelchair were a stranger Misha couldn’t recognize, and the disguise Grim had forced on him back then only fueled this lack of connection between the Misha from a few days ago and the cringing, scared maggot that he was reduced to now.
When Grim faced the camera for the first time, Zero’s fingernails dug into Misha’s stump, making him tense from the sudden pain. “I can see you think you’re the new Lady Godiva. But I can’t say you didn’t honor our agreement either,” he said without much emotion to his voice.
“I couldn’t be Logan as I did that,” answered Grim from much too far away for Misha’s liking.
Back then, Misha managed to watch the torture without much emotion. He’d believed Tomas’s death was justified. The man was a pervert who escaped the law, and sacrificing his life to save an innocent was the least he could do. But now, watching all the blood and listening to the cries was like a barbaric spectacle Misha didn’t want to have any part in. With a hot, intruding hand roughly fondling Misha’s stump as he struggled against tears, he realized he saw too much Zero in Grim’s actions in the video. He too was covered in blood, and even if he didn’t get hard from inflicting the torture, watching Grim’s usually loving hands taking a life with little to no remorse was a sickening experience. By the time the film ended, Misha was a shivering mess.
The silence that followed was like a void that sucked in all emotions that remained in the sane part of Misha’s brain. Zero let go of his stump and clapped. He stood up and removed the flash drive from the slot before closing the computer. The screenshot disappeared from the wall, and Zero leaned against the windowsill, looking over Misha’s head, as if Misha had outlived his usefulness to him already.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“What do you think?” asked Grim, and this time, Zero didn’t make any demands and only nodded in acknowledgment. Both the goons walked over to the door they all earlier entered through, but the men still pointed their rifles at Grim, as if he were a bloodthirsty lion that needed to be put down if necessary. Misha’s heart skipped a beat. Was this the end?
He shuddered when Zero looked at him again, but then, the man who haunted Misha in his darkest nightmares casually left his side and walked across the ballroom to join his men at the door.
“I’m impressed. It’s not often that someone outsmarts me. Other than at the card table. I’m a terrible gambler,” Zero said with a sharp laugh. T4 opened the door for him while the other goon stood there motionless, ready to pierce them all with bullets at his master’s command.
Misha took a deep breath, completely lost. They were getting out of this alive? It only then occurred to him that no matter what he was telling himself, he only came here because of guilt. His body never trusted Zero’s promises. It never believed they would see the light of the next day. He relaxed into the chair, boneless after the endless minutes of crippling anxiety that had gnawed at him since the phone call.
Grim stood where Misha had last seen him, hands in his pockets, face focused but not too tense. Had he somehow known all along that Zero would keep his word?
Dennis’s muffled cry tore Misha’s attention away from the door, and he looked at the young man shivering on the wiggly chair, his wide-eyed gaze tearing through Zero like sharp spikes. Misha opened his mouth to comfort him, but breath froze in his lungs when a ray of light caught a glimmering line that stretched in the air, ripping the chair from under Dennis’s feet just as the door closed behind Zero with a loud bang that was followed by a rattle of metal.
Misha’s body shot roots into the floor as Dennis first fell and then rapidly stirred in the air, swinging on the thick rope like a wild rabbit desperate to get away from the leg-hold trap. His shoulders went up, and all the tendons and veins in his neck pressed against the skin as he frantically wiggled his legs over the floor. In his wide eyes, Misha saw the certainty of impending doom that was so visceral that he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Grim screamed and rushed over, grabbing Dennis around the thighs and lifted him up, easing the hold the noose had on Dennis’s neck. “Misha, come here!” he shouted.
It was as if the glass bubble that grew ever thicker around Misha was smashed by this one sentence. He wheeled over and pushed his lap underneath Dennis’s feet, bumping one of the wheels against Grim’s leg.
Misha tightened the wheel brakes and looked up with heat spreading in his face again. “Put him on the seat and go. I’ll help Dennis untie his hands. If you don’t get him now, you never will.”
Misha listened to his own ragged breathing as he looked up into Grim’s eyes, which flashed with understanding. That must have been his actual goal behind following Zero’s instructions, and now that Zero took the incriminating footage, Grim had no time to lose. “Please, go. I’ll take care of it.”
Grim exhaled and pushed Dennis at Misha, who grabbed the tense ankles and placed them on both sides of his thighs. Dennis’s hands were pale under the tight knot of rope around his wrists, but it wasn’t something Misha couldn’t handle.
As soon as Dennis was stable, Grim ducked and reached underneath the seat of Misha’s wheelchair. Misha twitched when something moved beneath his ass, but when Grim’s hands emerged with two serrated blades, he gaped at him, unable to comprehend what just happened.
“They had been there the whole time?”
Grim winked at Misha and touched the blades against each other as his eyes lit up. “I’m gonna bring you his head,” he whispered before darting toward the other doorway at one end of the ballroom, which was still open.
Misha took a deep breath, holding on to Dennis’s trembling calves as he followed Grim with his gaze until he disappeared from sight. His heart thumped with excitement and fear, but with the battered, naked body in his hands, there were different priorities. He could reach Dennis’s hands without changing his position, and he dug his thumbs into the rope, intent on freeing him as quickly as possible. As soon as Dennis managed to pull out one hand, he grabbed the noose, yanked it off his neck, then stumbled forward, and rolled onto the floor, shuddering as his stiffened fingers pulled at the makeshift gag. He whimpered when the tape tore off his skin, and he curled up, frantically massaging his wrists .
Misha’s stomach turned, and he unlocked his wheels, moving over. “I’m so sorry. We’re gonna take you to a safe place. You’ll see a doctor.”
Dennis’s eyes turned toward him, haunted by things Misha could imagine all too well.
“I know,” Misha whispered and shuddered when his voice echoed across the empty room. “He did it to me, too.”
Dennis looked away, curling up in an attempt to hide his nakedness. Misha quickly pulled off his hoodie and offered it in his outstretched hand. Dennis hesitated, but then abruptly tore the garment out of Misha’s grasp and pulled it on. Misha didn’t even hesitate and offered him the sweatpants as well, as he wore boxer shorts underneath anyway. Dennis pulled them on, turning his face away from Misha.
“It’s all your fault ... you ... groomed me for him,” he uttered in a raspy voice, and he might have as well thrown a stone into Misha’s face.
Misha swallowed hard, overcome with guilt so thick he could choke on it. “I-I’m so sorry. I was forced to do this. I had no choice ...”
“Everyone has a choice,” hissed Dennis, refusing to look at Misha.
Misha rubbed his face and took a shuddery breath as memories rolled in front of his eyes like a snuff film. “He took me almost five years ago. I only escaped a few weeks back.”
Dennis stirred and slowly looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide. “Five years?” It was barely more than a gasp.
Misha didn’t want to lose control again, but without Grim to hold him together, he was crumbling apart like a sand castle during the tide. He sobbed, and more tears streamed down his cheeks. “H-he took my legs. I was so scared ... I’m sorry ... I have nothing that I can offer you but this ... you have no idea how much I wanted to tell you to run, but each of our conversations was monitored. I couldn’t ... I really ...”
Dennis shook his head, visibly deflated. “Fuck ... I need air ... This is ... too much ...”
Misha wheeled over, desperate to offer any help he could. It would at least take his mind off Grim and the fact that he was still in danger. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah,” muttered Dennis and dragged himself to his feet. They were bare, one traced with red, but Misha had no shoes to offer Dennis .
“They locked those doors behind them,” Misha said, wheeling to the same exit Grim had used as he left.
Dennis took the flashlight and went first, rocking to the sides, as if he couldn’t stand the pain of a normal gait. Misha winced but followed him without a word, spooked out by a shape that threw a tangled shadow on the wall. It was some kind of old-fashioned medical bed, still covered by sheets. There was a lot of trash lying in the room they entered next, from contemporary candy wrappers to old shoes, but with the prevalence of the white metal furniture, Misha was beginning to understand this was some kind of abandoned hospital.
He didn’t share his suspicions with Dennis, too spooked already. At least the fear of seeing shadows of patients who died here several decades ago took his mind off Grim. His man was possibly still somewhere in the building, up against two armed men and the most twisted of monsters. No matter how much Misha believed in him, fear was growing inside his body, fueled by the echo of Dennis’s feet and the ghostly rubble all around. He exhaled as they walked through another door and entered one of the grand corridors that led straight to the main entrance. He licked his lips and wheeled toward the hall that he could already see at a distance.
The shadows of metal bars streaked the floor as he followed Dennis, who supported his weight by the wall, walking with even more strain. He seemed to be in a lot of pain, and judging by the numerous bruises on his torso, it was possible his ribs were broken, and Misha wanted to have him see a doctor as soon as possible.
He was queasy at the thought of just entering the hall. Something inside his head was telling him that there was a sniper waiting for them, ready to blow their brains all over the wall, but Dennis didn’t share his sentiment and all but ran toward the door. He pushed the handle down and pulled, but the huge door stayed closed.
He stared at it, then pushed, and then pulled again, eventually yanking it back and forth, and yet it wouldn’t budge. Dennis’s wide, frightened eyes looked back at Misha. “You sure those are the ones? They’re locked ...”
Misha’s brain was overheating, but as he looked around, at the empty reception area, at the familiar twin corridors, and the small door to the ballroom, all he could do was nod. “Yes, that’s the one. ”
Dennis looked as if he wanted to say something but dropped to the floor and cowered when several gunshots resonated somewhere in the building. Misha melted into the chair, his throat gone dry within a split second. In that moment, he regretted ever telling Grim that he absolutely needed to have Zero killed.
“F-fuck,” uttered Dennis, shuddering uncontrollably as he cuddled up against the door.
“Upstairs,” whispered Misha, the spooky shadows completely forgotten. There was nothing real about them. The possibility of Grim getting hurt, on the other hand, was painfully real.
“We need to find a way out ... all those windows are blocked,” whimpered Dennis and looked around, his breath coming in short gasps. “You go left, and I go right.”
Misha stiffened, but before he could protest, Dennis pulled himself up, shaking his head. “No. No, let’s keep together. I don’t want to be alone. Fuck,” he hissed and slammed his fist against the door.
Misha nodded and quickly led the way along the corridor across from the one they walked through earlier. “Let’s keep to the outermost wall. This is a massive building, there must be many exits,” he said, trying to chase away the fear nibbling away his sanity. Grim was a professional. He’d been in worse situations and prevailed. Misha would only be a hindrance to him.
They rushed down the walkway, looking into rooms, some of them cluttered with old medical supplies, others completely empty. Just like Misha suspected, they found other exits, but they were all either blocked with bricks or locked, and neither of them had the capacity to even attempt to break through by force.
He had no idea how long they ran through the maze of rooms, chased by shadows and whispers of the old building. With every single window closed with thick bars, they were like lab rats trapped in the labyrinth, chasing after a goal that seemed farther away with each passing minute. With Misha’s head pulsing and ready to explode, his mind was starting to play tricks on him. Shadows moved in the same way Zero did. He was the Minotaur toying with his prey before he could ravage it in his underworld kingdom.
Then, everything came to a halt when something thundered high above Misha’s head. The walls around them shook, and it was almost as if the impending end of the world was finally here.