Chaos Chapter 19 #2
While Stitch finished up, I stripped off my cut.
I didn’t want to get blood on it. It was hell to clean off leather, and it never truly was the same.
Then off came my T-shirt. I’d leave on my jeans and boots.
Next, I removed basic tools to be used. If he were tripping when I used them, they would be ten times worse.
I removed pliers, a sharp serrated knife, a hammer, and a small blowtorch.
Stitch came up with one of those gown things doctors wore during surgery. He had me put my arms into it, and he tied it in the back. Then I was given a pair of latex gloves.
“To keep as much of his blood as possible off your clothes and skin. Oh, and if you think it’s gonna get splashy, there’s a pair of safety goggles,” he told me, pointing to the left where he’d placed them on a rolling tray with my tools.
“Thanks, man, this is great,” I told Stitch as I worked on the gloves.
“Alright, I’ll start the infusion when you’re ready,” he said.
“Go for it,” I answered.
I counted the seconds as he administered it. It was easy to watch the progression of change in our captive. He became unmoving. And then his eyes widened as if he saw something.
“He’s ready,” Stitch stated.
“Where are you, Sinclair?” I asked.
There was a delay before Sinclair answered.
“I-I don’t know. It’s dark in here. I don’t like it. Turn on the lights,” he whispered as if afraid to say it louder.
An idea hit me as he said it. I decided to try it.
“Shh, you have to be quiet. If they hear you, they’ll come and hurt you, kill you. We have to keep the lights off. Listen, you’ll hear them moving,” I whispered, trying to put fear into my voice.
There was no movement, but his breathing hitched. One of my brothers, I wasn’t sure who, made rustling sounds. Another growled. Sinclair’s breathing increased. His facial muscles were frozen, but I knew he was racing toward terror.
“He’s just on the edge. If I increase it to put him into the K-Hole, he might not be able to talk. Do you want him there yet, or wait?” Stitch asked. He stood at Sinclair’s head, monitoring the infusion.
“Leave him here for now. I want to hear what he says. I’ll tell you when to increase him,” I answered.
Silence descended, and I said nothing, but the guys made sounds and growls and grunts. Sinclair’s eyes looked terrified. He grew pale, and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. I pushed him further.
“Do you know what they are?” Again, I said it in a scared whisper.
“No, what?” He finally asked.
I thought of what I was scared of: living in the dark, under my bed as a kid.
“Vampires, dragons, and werewolves. They’ll eat you if they find you.”
His breathing seemed to pause, then resumed faster.
“Do you know why they’re here?” I asked after almost a solid minute of nothing.
Sinclair didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was fainter than before.
“Why?”
I added steel to my tone as I replied. Anger pulsed through me for what he’d done. And how he didn’t see it as wrong. Any sympathy I might want to feel due to his obvious mental illness was absent. Maybe that made me cruel and a monster, but I didn’t give a fuck.
“Because of what you did to Elodie, and those other women,” I growled.
“Elodie? I didn’t do anything to her. I love her. And there are no other women. I only want and love her,” he whispered back urgently.
“You fucking raped her! You drugged her because you wanted her, and you were too cowardly to approach her like a real man. You didn’t ask her to go out.
You took what she wasn’t willing to give.
You made her kill herself because of it.
And then you’ve spent years finding women who remind you of her, and you do the same thing to them.
You said you want children. God wouldn’t allow a monster like you to procreate.
You only deserve to suffer, then die. And the monsters in the dark, they’re gonna make sure you do.
” I let my voice fade, waited three beats, while he mumbled that he didn’t do that to her.
Then I shouted, “He’s here! Come get him!”
Sinclair screamed in horror. My brothers were amazing. They made stomping sounds, growled, and snarled. I nodded to Stitch, who fiddled with the infusion. I picked up the pliers and waited. Sinclair’s eyes grew impossibly scared. He panted, begged me to help him, and whimpered.
“His pulse is beating like crazy,” Stitch whispered into my ear. He had his fingers on Sinclair’s jugular vein.
Suddenly, there were no more sounds from our prisoner. Tears ran from the corners of his blown-wide eyes. A mask of horror was frozen on his face. His breathing was ragged. He was there. I knew it.
I went for his fingernails first. I ripped them out one at a time. While I did the work, my brothers kept making the appropriate sounds. A few came forward to rake their fingers on his exposed arms, as if they were monster claws. I glanced over to see Ryder next to me.
“Take off his clothes. I want him to feel it everywhere.” I told him.
Without saying a word, he produced a wicked knife and sliced through Sinclair’s clothes, making them into tattered rags that ended up lying on the metal table beneath him. The only thing he wore was his underwear, but then Ryder sliced them off, too.
I don’t go around checking out other men’s cocks.
Sure, you see them in the bathroom, a locker room, or in the clubhouse, but it wasn’t as if you stared.
I paused to look at Sinclair’s cock. No one was that impressive when soft, but this guy was so underwhelming that it made me stop and stare.
Unless he was a tremendous grower, that was the most pathetic excuse for a cock I’d ever seen.
My fellow Pagans must’ve thought the same thing because they jeered and made crude comments about how pathetic it was. It was a different kind of cruelty.
“Jesus Christ, I’ve seen cocks bigger than that on a baby,” Storm muttered.
“No wonder he had to rape women. None would willingly fuck that,” Fury said.
“I wonder if they even felt it when he put it in?” Chains stated.
“Getting rid of this pathetic excuse for a man is doing the world a favor,” Wrath declared.
“No way that could impregnate someone. He shoots blanks,” Rage added.
While Sinclair couldn’t move or speak, his skin turned dark red with rage, I assumed.
I let the comments continue for another minute or so, then I went back to removing the rest of his nails.
My club continued with their sound effects.
Someone must’ve found some recording and played it on their phone.
It was the sound of deep, ragged breathing.
To help with the effects, the lights in the Hole were all turned off but one, casting darkness all around us.
When his nails were gone, I replaced the pliers with the knife.
“Look out! The claws,” Ryder shouted.