The Inquisition
The cold and the beast
It was always cold for Mr. Grendel, no matter where he was. It would start out at his shoulder blades, then his arms, all the way to his fingertips. His hands would shake
uncontrollably, a constant annoyance to him and his tasks.
"Chambers," he muttered under his breath as he casually stared out of the third story window of his perch.
He had broken into an office building only a couple blocks from where he had sent that phone call to the authorities. He smiled to himself, that crooked incisor poking his upper lip. It was a constant reminder of his past fallacies and short comings.
"Chambers," he rasped as he ran his tongue over the offending tooth.
How long had it been since they had crossed paths? Years? The time had been at a botched job. The catacombs had given him one last chance to redeem himself. He had been found on the outskirts, laying in a pool of his own blood, maimed an gravely wounded. It didn't take long to piece together what had happened. Mr. Grendel would have gotten off scottfree for his offense, if only Jack the ripper hadn't gone back to the catacombs to notify the authorities. Since Mr. Grendel's alibi of trying to keep Jack from escaping was unfounded, he was sentenced to cloister in the oubliette for an undisclosed period of time.
Years later, he was given a chance to pardon his past transgressions by completing a last minute assignment. He was to find and interrogate a suspected child molester, one who had been dodging the law and inquisitors alike. This was his last and final chance to make good with the order and the elders.
"Chambers.." he said with a curse as he recounted the messy affair.
It turned out that the Grand inquisitors had already assigned an inquisitor for the task, Mr. Chambers. Their intentions were for Mr. Chambers to "Retire" his rival, a dirty deed that the council felt needed to be done. They never did their own dirty work, they higher up on the order chain, the less work you did. You just called the shots.
Needless to say, when Mr. Grendel was able to track down his project, he found Mr. Chambers already wrapping things up with a rusty bear trap and carpenter nails. Enraged, Mr. Grendel fell upon his life long adversary. He wasn't sure if it was the blind rage or his incompetance to check out his surroundings, but when he regained consciousness, he was face down in a pile of glass, his jaw dislocated by a strike to the face with a claw hammer. He also found his leg nailed down to the wooden planked floor. It took him hours to wrench his mangled legs free and to reset his jaw.
Instead of reporting back to his superiors, he struck out on his own. He knew it had been a setup, the Inquisitors don't make mistakes like that unless it was intentional. With an animalistic rage boiling up in him, betrayed by his mentors and defeated by his archrival, he set out to do things his way.
"Don't worry Jack the ripper, I won't let the cops kill you. I'm going to tear off your skin and make you watch me walk around wearing it, then I'm going to rip out your eyes and skull fuck you. Then I'm going to break all your bones in two places until they are powder!" he hissed fiercely and bitterly.
He smiled for a moment, not because he was amused by his own visions of retribution, but because now his hands were warm.
"I'm ready, let's work." he said as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation for the chase,"I can taste your blood, taste your bone marrow, taste your pain Jack. I'm coming for that pound of flesh that you owe me. I'm coming you cocksucker, I'm coming."
uncontrollably, a constant annoyance to him and his tasks.
"Chambers," he muttered under his breath as he casually stared out of the third story window of his perch.
He had broken into an office building only a couple blocks from where he had sent that phone call to the authorities. He smiled to himself, that crooked incisor poking his upper lip. It was a constant reminder of his past fallacies and short comings.
"Chambers," he rasped as he ran his tongue over the offending tooth.
How long had it been since they had crossed paths? Years? The time had been at a botched job. The catacombs had given him one last chance to redeem himself. He had been found on the outskirts, laying in a pool of his own blood, maimed an gravely wounded. It didn't take long to piece together what had happened. Mr. Grendel would have gotten off scottfree for his offense, if only Jack the ripper hadn't gone back to the catacombs to notify the authorities. Since Mr. Grendel's alibi of trying to keep Jack from escaping was unfounded, he was sentenced to cloister in the oubliette for an undisclosed period of time.
Years later, he was given a chance to pardon his past transgressions by completing a last minute assignment. He was to find and interrogate a suspected child molester, one who had been dodging the law and inquisitors alike. This was his last and final chance to make good with the order and the elders.
"Chambers.." he said with a curse as he recounted the messy affair.
It turned out that the Grand inquisitors had already assigned an inquisitor for the task, Mr. Chambers. Their intentions were for Mr. Chambers to "Retire" his rival, a dirty deed that the council felt needed to be done. They never did their own dirty work, they higher up on the order chain, the less work you did. You just called the shots.
Needless to say, when Mr. Grendel was able to track down his project, he found Mr. Chambers already wrapping things up with a rusty bear trap and carpenter nails. Enraged, Mr. Grendel fell upon his life long adversary. He wasn't sure if it was the blind rage or his incompetance to check out his surroundings, but when he regained consciousness, he was face down in a pile of glass, his jaw dislocated by a strike to the face with a claw hammer. He also found his leg nailed down to the wooden planked floor. It took him hours to wrench his mangled legs free and to reset his jaw.
Instead of reporting back to his superiors, he struck out on his own. He knew it had been a setup, the Inquisitors don't make mistakes like that unless it was intentional. With an animalistic rage boiling up in him, betrayed by his mentors and defeated by his archrival, he set out to do things his way.
"Don't worry Jack the ripper, I won't let the cops kill you. I'm going to tear off your skin and make you watch me walk around wearing it, then I'm going to rip out your eyes and skull fuck you. Then I'm going to break all your bones in two places until they are powder!" he hissed fiercely and bitterly.
He smiled for a moment, not because he was amused by his own visions of retribution, but because now his hands were warm.
"I'm ready, let's work." he said as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation for the chase,"I can taste your blood, taste your bone marrow, taste your pain Jack. I'm coming for that pound of flesh that you owe me. I'm coming you cocksucker, I'm coming."