I'm the Last One That You'll Ever Remember
Chapter 231: Late Night Visit From Poison
Michael painfully woke up a few times, in and out of a very fuzzy obscure location. He had no idea where he was nor could he figure it out because the next thing he knew his blurred vision would go dark again. After god knows how many times of this, he fully came to what looked like a dark cold basement barely lit by a kerosene lantern placed on a five gallon steel drum. There was something very wrong with the room, he knew that off the bat, and eventually deduced the case being that he was suspended from the ceiling. Glancing upwards, and throbbing from ceaseless pain, he found what held him up was his wrists tied by a rope that was hooked onto a large industrial sized hook anchored into the ceiling. Taking in his surroundings next, Kobra could see that he was completely alone in this stone basement.
There was no one in sight, not even his most cherished Masika.
Michael had to believe that the woman he loved had made it and escaped the back-stabbing mutinous Killjoy’s clutches. He had no proof that this was true, but he forced himself to believe because if he didn’t…he wouldn’t fight to survive tonight.
Letting out a groan due to the neverending pain, Kobra glanced down at the source where a burning sensation relentlessly ensued. Shirtless, he spotted the long overlapping slashes across his stomach. It looked like someone decided to have a bit of fun with him while he’d been out which only served to genuinely irk him. Okay yeah, the wounds weren’t deep enough to cause any concerns of bleeding out all over the basement floor, but they were still wounds done to him without his knowledge or permission.
Had some coward truly entered this basement to torture him while he hung unconscious from the ceiling?
At first, Michael couldn’t recall which of the Killjoys had done it. But then a flash of Dash taking his pocket knife out to wave it in his face came to the forefront of his memory, answering his question. Letting out a feral growl, the demoted leader of the Killjoy viciously cursed the rainbow mohawk man who had been a jealous thorn in his and his brother’s side for years. Wait…was this all Dash’s doing?
Did that idiot Dash seriously cause this insurgency within the Killjoy family?!
Well, there was only one way to find out. Soaring his eyes back up to his bound wrists, Michael began to move them in an attempt to see how tight his bondage was and if he could possibly loosen it when the click of a lighter sounded in the room with him. Capturing his attention, Michael’s eyes snapped in that exact direction to discover a seated Dash within the darkest corners of the basement. In two bloody cupped hands, he was lighting himself a cigarette. It was hard to tell how long that weirdo had been sitting there watching Michael repeatedly go unconscious and conscious again. Keeping himself composed and silent, the disgraced leader of the KIlljoy watched Dash inhale the nicotine deep within his lungs before rising from his chair to cross the distance between them. Glaring down at his former recruit, Michael was met with sparkling eyes brimming with excitement before Dash exhaled the smoke from his lungs rudely into his face. Kobra didn’t flinch as he proceeded to glare murderously down at him.
“Hmph. Tough guy, huh?” Dash chuckled up at his shamed leader now turned play-thing. Taking another hit from his cigarette, he lifted the end of the glowing stick and then pressed the burning tip into the flesh between Michae’s rib cage. That gave Dash the reaction he’d been yearning for.
Michael couldn’t stop himself from flinching and then inhaling sharply through his nose as the cigarette end burned into his skin. Other than that, he refused to react any further by making a peep or breaking eye contact with Dash, the man he plans to skewer alive like a pig once he got out of these binds.
Grinning maliciously up at Michael, Dash crushed his cigarette in between the suspended man’s ribs before letting it fall to the floor at his feet. “Glad to see you’re finally awake, boss.”
Staring wordlessly back at Dash, Michael had to restrain himself from asking about Masika. His lips were itching to inquire of her whereabouts just to be 100% sure she wasn’t trapped somewhere in the building. However, he couldn’t let himself spout out her name. If he did, it would only strengthen the fact that she was his greatest weakness which would only motivate the rest of the Killjoys to hunt her down to the ends of the earth in order to make him suffer more.
They were truly a sick twisted bunch.
Torturing Michael would only physically damage him. His soul would remain unscathed no matter what they did to him so long as they didn’t get their hands on his Masika, and his child. The knowledge that they were out there safe and alive would be enough, it would give Michael a sense of peace as he slowly and painfully died. If tonight was gonna be his last night on Earth, then he’ll happily sacrifice his life for Masika like she would for him given the chance.
“So tell me, how does it feel? To be one of the victim…one of the preys stringed up for torture and play?” Dash questioned Michael, giving him his undivided attention. “I’ve always been curious.”
“I don’t know yet. Why don’t you let me go so we can switch places and see?” Michael proposed tightly, his glare not having moved an inch since Dash closed the distance between them.
Dash threw his head back and cackled towards the ceiling for a minute before turning around to head to a wooden tray table set up nearby, the top of it covered with a white sheet to conceal what was underneath. “Oh man! That’s a good one, boss!”
Whipping the cloth from the tray, Dash was offered a huge selection of cold metal torturing devices and instruments already stained with blood. They were lying perfectly side by side, ready to be utilized. His hands hovered over the many tempting options he could go with. “Tsk tsk, which one should I try next considering you couldn't handle the last one? You know me, I prefer to have my prey conscious and wide awake during our playtime, it’s funner that way.”
Now Michael may not remember what device Dash was referring to that knocked him out cold, but he sure hoped that the next one he used would have the same results. Being the torturer is one thing, but being the one being tortured was an entirely different experience no one, not even himself, wants to ever endure. But what else could he do?
Until he could figure out a way to untie himself, Michael was as dead as those hanging pigs in a butcher shop. Closing his eyes, he simply hung there by a hook in the ceiling, biding his time as Dash finally selected the next instrument. It was a power tool surgical saw normally used in the medical profession. This specific device was pilfered by a Doctor that had only been suspected of covertly killing his victim but hadn’t been proven guilty yet…until Michael did the necessary research. The sound of this power tool turning on made Michael clench his teeth in preparation for something awful to happen next.
“Ooo, you like the sound of that big boy too, boss?” Dash cackled in delight like a kid on Christmas, a grin on his face. Michael’s lack of backlash was starting to get on his nerves, and so Dash once again crossed the room with the intention of entering the very tip of the surgical saw into his former boss’s thigh to garner any form of activity from him. However, he didn’t get far.
Out of nowhere, something detonated from upstairs. It had so much force to it it rattled the hardwood floors right over the men’s heads as the boom reverberated throughout the entire building, including the very basement Michael was imprisoned in. Both tortured and torturer glanced upwards as the sounds of earth-shattering screams ruptured from upstairs followed by overlapping shouts then silence. Neither men understood what was happening just now other than that something HUGE had just exploded in or against the outside of the house. And then suddenly, a roar that could only come from the depths of a man’s lungs could be heard bellowing into the night…or day…whatever time it was.
Michael couldn’t prevent the grin stretching across his face at his big brother’s arrival. He glanced back down to look at how Dash was taking the surprise late night visit from Poison.
Dash snapped his own gaze to Michael at the same time, his former boss’s grin dwindling his own into a sneer. Damnit, Poison was here to ruin everything, all of his plans, like usual! He glared venomously at his captive before unexpectedly bursting into such a robust laughter that it forced his head back.
No longer grinning and beginning to believe that Dash was actually mentally insane, Michael watched as Dash abruptly got ahold of himself enough to point the end of his surgical saw up into his face as he made a vow to him. “You and I will continue this another time, Boss. Until then, I gotta hit the road.”
But before he left, Dash allowed himself one brutal arc of the surgical saw across Michael’s stomach. The wound was so deep that it quickly oozed rivulets of blood by the time Dash was charging up the stairs to make his escape.
Michael heard within the brief seconds the basement door open the sound of World War 3 occuring upstairs. It was chaotic, the clanging of weapons and the stink of blood and…and something burning?
There was no one in sight, not even his most cherished Masika.
Michael had to believe that the woman he loved had made it and escaped the back-stabbing mutinous Killjoy’s clutches. He had no proof that this was true, but he forced himself to believe because if he didn’t…he wouldn’t fight to survive tonight.
Letting out a groan due to the neverending pain, Kobra glanced down at the source where a burning sensation relentlessly ensued. Shirtless, he spotted the long overlapping slashes across his stomach. It looked like someone decided to have a bit of fun with him while he’d been out which only served to genuinely irk him. Okay yeah, the wounds weren’t deep enough to cause any concerns of bleeding out all over the basement floor, but they were still wounds done to him without his knowledge or permission.
Had some coward truly entered this basement to torture him while he hung unconscious from the ceiling?
At first, Michael couldn’t recall which of the Killjoys had done it. But then a flash of Dash taking his pocket knife out to wave it in his face came to the forefront of his memory, answering his question. Letting out a feral growl, the demoted leader of the Killjoy viciously cursed the rainbow mohawk man who had been a jealous thorn in his and his brother’s side for years. Wait…was this all Dash’s doing?
Did that idiot Dash seriously cause this insurgency within the Killjoy family?!
Well, there was only one way to find out. Soaring his eyes back up to his bound wrists, Michael began to move them in an attempt to see how tight his bondage was and if he could possibly loosen it when the click of a lighter sounded in the room with him. Capturing his attention, Michael’s eyes snapped in that exact direction to discover a seated Dash within the darkest corners of the basement. In two bloody cupped hands, he was lighting himself a cigarette. It was hard to tell how long that weirdo had been sitting there watching Michael repeatedly go unconscious and conscious again. Keeping himself composed and silent, the disgraced leader of the KIlljoy watched Dash inhale the nicotine deep within his lungs before rising from his chair to cross the distance between them. Glaring down at his former recruit, Michael was met with sparkling eyes brimming with excitement before Dash exhaled the smoke from his lungs rudely into his face. Kobra didn’t flinch as he proceeded to glare murderously down at him.
“Hmph. Tough guy, huh?” Dash chuckled up at his shamed leader now turned play-thing. Taking another hit from his cigarette, he lifted the end of the glowing stick and then pressed the burning tip into the flesh between Michae’s rib cage. That gave Dash the reaction he’d been yearning for.
Michael couldn’t stop himself from flinching and then inhaling sharply through his nose as the cigarette end burned into his skin. Other than that, he refused to react any further by making a peep or breaking eye contact with Dash, the man he plans to skewer alive like a pig once he got out of these binds.
Grinning maliciously up at Michael, Dash crushed his cigarette in between the suspended man’s ribs before letting it fall to the floor at his feet. “Glad to see you’re finally awake, boss.”
Staring wordlessly back at Dash, Michael had to restrain himself from asking about Masika. His lips were itching to inquire of her whereabouts just to be 100% sure she wasn’t trapped somewhere in the building. However, he couldn’t let himself spout out her name. If he did, it would only strengthen the fact that she was his greatest weakness which would only motivate the rest of the Killjoys to hunt her down to the ends of the earth in order to make him suffer more.
They were truly a sick twisted bunch.
Torturing Michael would only physically damage him. His soul would remain unscathed no matter what they did to him so long as they didn’t get their hands on his Masika, and his child. The knowledge that they were out there safe and alive would be enough, it would give Michael a sense of peace as he slowly and painfully died. If tonight was gonna be his last night on Earth, then he’ll happily sacrifice his life for Masika like she would for him given the chance.
“So tell me, how does it feel? To be one of the victim…one of the preys stringed up for torture and play?” Dash questioned Michael, giving him his undivided attention. “I’ve always been curious.”
“I don’t know yet. Why don’t you let me go so we can switch places and see?” Michael proposed tightly, his glare not having moved an inch since Dash closed the distance between them.
Dash threw his head back and cackled towards the ceiling for a minute before turning around to head to a wooden tray table set up nearby, the top of it covered with a white sheet to conceal what was underneath. “Oh man! That’s a good one, boss!”
Whipping the cloth from the tray, Dash was offered a huge selection of cold metal torturing devices and instruments already stained with blood. They were lying perfectly side by side, ready to be utilized. His hands hovered over the many tempting options he could go with. “Tsk tsk, which one should I try next considering you couldn't handle the last one? You know me, I prefer to have my prey conscious and wide awake during our playtime, it’s funner that way.”
Now Michael may not remember what device Dash was referring to that knocked him out cold, but he sure hoped that the next one he used would have the same results. Being the torturer is one thing, but being the one being tortured was an entirely different experience no one, not even himself, wants to ever endure. But what else could he do?
Until he could figure out a way to untie himself, Michael was as dead as those hanging pigs in a butcher shop. Closing his eyes, he simply hung there by a hook in the ceiling, biding his time as Dash finally selected the next instrument. It was a power tool surgical saw normally used in the medical profession. This specific device was pilfered by a Doctor that had only been suspected of covertly killing his victim but hadn’t been proven guilty yet…until Michael did the necessary research. The sound of this power tool turning on made Michael clench his teeth in preparation for something awful to happen next.
“Ooo, you like the sound of that big boy too, boss?” Dash cackled in delight like a kid on Christmas, a grin on his face. Michael’s lack of backlash was starting to get on his nerves, and so Dash once again crossed the room with the intention of entering the very tip of the surgical saw into his former boss’s thigh to garner any form of activity from him. However, he didn’t get far.
Out of nowhere, something detonated from upstairs. It had so much force to it it rattled the hardwood floors right over the men’s heads as the boom reverberated throughout the entire building, including the very basement Michael was imprisoned in. Both tortured and torturer glanced upwards as the sounds of earth-shattering screams ruptured from upstairs followed by overlapping shouts then silence. Neither men understood what was happening just now other than that something HUGE had just exploded in or against the outside of the house. And then suddenly, a roar that could only come from the depths of a man’s lungs could be heard bellowing into the night…or day…whatever time it was.
Michael couldn’t prevent the grin stretching across his face at his big brother’s arrival. He glanced back down to look at how Dash was taking the surprise late night visit from Poison.
Dash snapped his own gaze to Michael at the same time, his former boss’s grin dwindling his own into a sneer. Damnit, Poison was here to ruin everything, all of his plans, like usual! He glared venomously at his captive before unexpectedly bursting into such a robust laughter that it forced his head back.
No longer grinning and beginning to believe that Dash was actually mentally insane, Michael watched as Dash abruptly got ahold of himself enough to point the end of his surgical saw up into his face as he made a vow to him. “You and I will continue this another time, Boss. Until then, I gotta hit the road.”
But before he left, Dash allowed himself one brutal arc of the surgical saw across Michael’s stomach. The wound was so deep that it quickly oozed rivulets of blood by the time Dash was charging up the stairs to make his escape.
Michael heard within the brief seconds the basement door open the sound of World War 3 occuring upstairs. It was chaotic, the clanging of weapons and the stink of blood and…and something burning?