The Inquisition
Bite the hand that feeds
The gun was cocked and ready to go, pointed almost at point blank to Mr. Chambers head.
Chambers sighed softly, a quiet exhale. Without a moments pause, he quickly ducked down out of the weapons sights, and with his right hand, grasped the shooters wrist. He spat out of his mouth a single edge razor he had been keeping carefully tucked away along the lining of his cheek, and with his free left hand, ran it down the length of the shooters right arm all the way to the elbow joint.
The man cried out in surprise and fear, as his flesh opened up like a gutted fish, and he saw his skin tissue and the bone of his arm for the first time in his life. Chambers didn't hesitate, he twisted the man's right wrist hard, then wrenching it the other direction, snapping his bone into a compact fracture. The gun fell to the floor heavily, the shooter screaming and writhing in Chambers death grip.
Chambers now knew they had no intentions of paying him or letting him live after his services. He had no reason to spare this man. He was his new project.
He kicked the man's legs out from under him with a swift blow to the back of his knee caps. The man fell flat on his back, grunting from the impact. Before the man could react, Chambers stomped his boot down on the mans face at full force, feeling the cartilage of his nose snap. Chambers then stomped on his trachea, crushing his throat in at an awkward angle.
"Time to leave." Chambers said to himself as he discarded his sullied razor blade.
He picked up the gun, removed the clip and discarded it. He unchambered the remaining round left in the weapon, and quickly disassembled it with ease.
WIthout another thought or word, he stepped out of the room, his black trunk in tow.
"There should have been a gunshot by now!" Gavin said impatiently to his men.
"Maybe he pistol whipped the poor boy!" Bull said jokingly.
"Shut yer fuckin mouth! This is not a laughing matter! That man is as deadly as the plague! Send two men over there to check!" Gavin said as he pointed at two of his henchmen.
The two nodded and started to head back towards the cutting room.
They armed themselves with Glock 17's and continued down the hall.
All was quiet as they neared the room, the door was wide open. There, they found the two dead bodies, the floor sticky with blood.
"Jaysis! That man is a monster!" one of the henchmen uttered.
"Aye, a true cold hearted sicko!" the other responded.
They turned to leave the room, when out of nowhere, a dark figure appeared in front of them.
Before either one could make a move, the figure kicked one man in the chest, sending him flying back into the blood spattered room. With the second man, the stranger did a palm strike to his jaw, dislocating it and sending fragments of teeth raining down on the tile floor.
As the injured man tried to resist, the stranger slammed his head down on the edge of a table repeatedly, blood oozing out and spilling onto the floor. The man that was kicked into the room regained his senses, and tried to stand, but immediately collapsed back down.
The stranger had fractured his ribs with his kick, and had sent a rib fragment into his left lung.
The stranger finished off the one he was working on, grabbing the victim by the hair, forcing their mouth open, placing the open mouth on the edge of the table. With a quick hard kick, he stomped on the back of the man's head, giving him an instant "Curbie".
The stranger let the dead body fall to the floor with a sickening "Crack" of the skull.
He turned and began to approach the other injured man.
The injured man tried to lift up his arm that had the gun, but he soon realized that the collar bone had been broken too, making it impossible to move.
One moment, the stranger is a couple feet away, the next he's face to face with him.
At first, he didn't feel anything, but then he felt a cold stinging sensation in his gut, like frostbite. When he looked down, he found a straight razor buried deep in his abdomen.
"Oh God...p-p-please don't kill me!" he sputtered as his body started to go into shock and convulse.
"Kill?" rasped the stranger, "Why, your friend was the lucky one! His torment is over and done with. Why, killing you would be too good for you!"
And with hard twist and drag of the blade, the stranger withdrew his blade with a hard tug.
He walked away, humming a tune as the man's intestines and guts spilled out of his chest cavity and into his lap.
The man convulsed and spasmed uncontrollaby, "Oh m-m-m-m-my God!" he screamed, trying to desperately stuff his organs back in with his left hand.
"See you in the paper tommorrow!" the stranger said cheerfully with a wave as he walked away.
As the man slowly died from his wounds, slumping over, his eyes glazing and going cloudy. He would never forget the mans cold expression, the joy of pain, the crescent scar on his head. How we casually whistled "Dont' worry, be happy". For as long as he lived, he would never forget. But now, rather, for as long as he died, he would never forget...
Chambers sighed softly, a quiet exhale. Without a moments pause, he quickly ducked down out of the weapons sights, and with his right hand, grasped the shooters wrist. He spat out of his mouth a single edge razor he had been keeping carefully tucked away along the lining of his cheek, and with his free left hand, ran it down the length of the shooters right arm all the way to the elbow joint.
The man cried out in surprise and fear, as his flesh opened up like a gutted fish, and he saw his skin tissue and the bone of his arm for the first time in his life. Chambers didn't hesitate, he twisted the man's right wrist hard, then wrenching it the other direction, snapping his bone into a compact fracture. The gun fell to the floor heavily, the shooter screaming and writhing in Chambers death grip.
Chambers now knew they had no intentions of paying him or letting him live after his services. He had no reason to spare this man. He was his new project.
He kicked the man's legs out from under him with a swift blow to the back of his knee caps. The man fell flat on his back, grunting from the impact. Before the man could react, Chambers stomped his boot down on the mans face at full force, feeling the cartilage of his nose snap. Chambers then stomped on his trachea, crushing his throat in at an awkward angle.
"Time to leave." Chambers said to himself as he discarded his sullied razor blade.
He picked up the gun, removed the clip and discarded it. He unchambered the remaining round left in the weapon, and quickly disassembled it with ease.
WIthout another thought or word, he stepped out of the room, his black trunk in tow.
"There should have been a gunshot by now!" Gavin said impatiently to his men.
"Maybe he pistol whipped the poor boy!" Bull said jokingly.
"Shut yer fuckin mouth! This is not a laughing matter! That man is as deadly as the plague! Send two men over there to check!" Gavin said as he pointed at two of his henchmen.
The two nodded and started to head back towards the cutting room.
They armed themselves with Glock 17's and continued down the hall.
All was quiet as they neared the room, the door was wide open. There, they found the two dead bodies, the floor sticky with blood.
"Jaysis! That man is a monster!" one of the henchmen uttered.
"Aye, a true cold hearted sicko!" the other responded.
They turned to leave the room, when out of nowhere, a dark figure appeared in front of them.
Before either one could make a move, the figure kicked one man in the chest, sending him flying back into the blood spattered room. With the second man, the stranger did a palm strike to his jaw, dislocating it and sending fragments of teeth raining down on the tile floor.
As the injured man tried to resist, the stranger slammed his head down on the edge of a table repeatedly, blood oozing out and spilling onto the floor. The man that was kicked into the room regained his senses, and tried to stand, but immediately collapsed back down.
The stranger had fractured his ribs with his kick, and had sent a rib fragment into his left lung.
The stranger finished off the one he was working on, grabbing the victim by the hair, forcing their mouth open, placing the open mouth on the edge of the table. With a quick hard kick, he stomped on the back of the man's head, giving him an instant "Curbie".
The stranger let the dead body fall to the floor with a sickening "Crack" of the skull.
He turned and began to approach the other injured man.
The injured man tried to lift up his arm that had the gun, but he soon realized that the collar bone had been broken too, making it impossible to move.
One moment, the stranger is a couple feet away, the next he's face to face with him.
At first, he didn't feel anything, but then he felt a cold stinging sensation in his gut, like frostbite. When he looked down, he found a straight razor buried deep in his abdomen.
"Oh God...p-p-please don't kill me!" he sputtered as his body started to go into shock and convulse.
"Kill?" rasped the stranger, "Why, your friend was the lucky one! His torment is over and done with. Why, killing you would be too good for you!"
And with hard twist and drag of the blade, the stranger withdrew his blade with a hard tug.
He walked away, humming a tune as the man's intestines and guts spilled out of his chest cavity and into his lap.
The man convulsed and spasmed uncontrollaby, "Oh m-m-m-m-my God!" he screamed, trying to desperately stuff his organs back in with his left hand.
"See you in the paper tommorrow!" the stranger said cheerfully with a wave as he walked away.
As the man slowly died from his wounds, slumping over, his eyes glazing and going cloudy. He would never forget the mans cold expression, the joy of pain, the crescent scar on his head. How we casually whistled "Dont' worry, be happy". For as long as he lived, he would never forget. But now, rather, for as long as he died, he would never forget...