I really have no idea as to where this is going
Here's a strange equation for you; past midnight, plus TV Tropes, multiplied by stroke of creativeness, equals what follows below. And all I can keep asking myself is, "What the hell is this?" Because really, when I got hit with the idea, this is all I got. Nothing more. What'd he do? I don't know. Who's the boss guy? I don't know. Are they even going to kill him? I don't know.
For what it's worth, I think it was when I was going through "Even Evil Has Standards" when I got this.
***
"Shut the door."
I hear the link of the metal catching, followed by extra clinks of two bolt locks. What we're about to do doesn't need visitors.
He sat in the middle of the room, bound at the wrists and ankles, with a blindfold and gag for good measure. I would tell you his name, but that won't matter soon anymore. I'd tell you what he did to wind up like this, but part of him being here is erasing that memory. I had crews going around and making sure his name wouldn't touch anyone's lips again.
I had worked years for the power of not having to pull a chair up myself, or having to pull out my own cigar and light it. I sat down, right in front of him, while the guys took a step back. Looking him over, he'd wet himself some time ago. Some drool was sliding around the gag and down his chin, which simply blended into the sweat and tears he was pouring out. He had every right to be this scared.
I took a small puff from the cigar, not saying anything. He knew I was there, he'd heard me come in. This was one of only two things I was going to enjoy about this; making this little fucker sweat 'til his balls drowned, and this cigar. Because it was nasty work we were about to put in for, and none of it was meant to be enjoyed.
I waited another ten minutes, enjoying most of the cigar that wasn't Cuban, but excellent none the less, before nodding to right. Douglas stepped up and removed the blindfold. He must've been down here longer than I thought, because it took him minute of blinking his eyes before he realized I sat in front of him. When he did he just about knocked himself to the floor trying to back away. I said nothing, didn't even move, while he had his little panic episode. Finally he got to the point where he was breathing raggedly though the cloth in his mouth and just staring at me with wide, red eyes.
"You know why you're here." And he did. His head jerked up at the acknowledgment, and he immediately started to ramble something but the gag stopped him from making any sense. The only thing I could make sense of was when he started sobbing. "Shut up." Another puff. "First, I'll put your mind at ease; your family will not be hurt. Not your wife, not your daughter, not even your mother-in-law who you have never shut up about. They will not be harmed in any way. If anything, they are safer now. None of them will even have to move from the city. Does this please you?" He actually takes a moment to think about it, then nods like he's okay with it. "Good. Mind you," and I let my voice grow harder, "they will never speak your name again. They will never think about you again. If they are lucky, they will be able to forget you entirely and never have your conscious cross theirs ever again. You will be less than deja vu to them, because they won't even remember if they forgot about you." Another slow puff, and his pant stain grows a little bigger. He starts crying again.
"You should know that what is about to happen, I take no pleasure in." Some from behind me took my jacket, and the chair went with them. Martin wheeled up the dentist's chair. "I loathe when this actually becomes necessary, and I detest when I need to become involved. But you, and your actions, have made this inevitable. And that is just one more reason I don't like you." Martin and three others moved in quickly, each grabbing a limb. He struggled as soon as any part of him was untied, and it was like watching linebackers wrestle with some methhead cranked up on PCP. Almost got free too, I'll give him that, though I doubt Charlie appreciated the kick to the stomach. I simply stood and watched, dropped the remains of the cigar to the floor and rubbing it out, waiting for them to finish.
Martin finally got a hold of the situation and clamped his hand around his neck. He still had fight in him, even as his face went red and his eyes started bulge a bit, at least until his arms went limp. Quickly they got him from one chair to the other, and used plastic ties to secure him to the reclined - rather plush, actually - dentist seat. His breathing was ragged and his eyes half-lidded as his head flopped to the side to stare at me. If he was trying to beg to me with his eyes, I wasn't seeing it. Maybe I didn't want to, but then again I wasn't in the mood to look.
Somebody wheeled up a cart as I stepped up beside him. "This was your doing. Remember that, as they do their work. I made the rules quite clear and was up front about penalties. When you choose to ignore these rules, you put not only myself, but your family, your friends, every person in this room and outside's lives in danger. All because you are a little man with a big ego. And you always have been. And so here you are."
I stood up and looked across the room. His name remains unsaid, but for different reasons than that the scum in the chair. No one knew his name, but everyone knew how to find him. The surgical gloves weren't necessary, but they added to the illusion and I think that's what he enjoyed about it. He nodded, and moved closer under the light.
Douglas brought me my jacket, and had the door opened before I was even there. I slipped on my coat and looked down; fear was the only thing left in his eyes. “As I said, this is not something I do for enjoyment. This is not revenge. This is not personal. You broke the rules, my rules, and now simply reaping the rotten fruits.” I kneeled closer so he had to look me in the eye. “This is not personal. Simply punishment.”
I stood and turned, precise steps taking me out of the room. The other man stepped forward to the light.
“Remove the gag, please.”
If he screamed anything as I left it was drowned out by the loud tone of the metal door closing. The only following sounds where the scrap of the deadbolts being put back in place.
Then silence. Not even a whisper from behind the door.
I hate this job.
***
Lord, just simply copy/pasting makes me want to go back and rewrite it all over again.
For what it's worth, I think it was when I was going through "Even Evil Has Standards" when I got this.
***
"Shut the door."
I hear the link of the metal catching, followed by extra clinks of two bolt locks. What we're about to do doesn't need visitors.
He sat in the middle of the room, bound at the wrists and ankles, with a blindfold and gag for good measure. I would tell you his name, but that won't matter soon anymore. I'd tell you what he did to wind up like this, but part of him being here is erasing that memory. I had crews going around and making sure his name wouldn't touch anyone's lips again.
I had worked years for the power of not having to pull a chair up myself, or having to pull out my own cigar and light it. I sat down, right in front of him, while the guys took a step back. Looking him over, he'd wet himself some time ago. Some drool was sliding around the gag and down his chin, which simply blended into the sweat and tears he was pouring out. He had every right to be this scared.
I took a small puff from the cigar, not saying anything. He knew I was there, he'd heard me come in. This was one of only two things I was going to enjoy about this; making this little fucker sweat 'til his balls drowned, and this cigar. Because it was nasty work we were about to put in for, and none of it was meant to be enjoyed.
I waited another ten minutes, enjoying most of the cigar that wasn't Cuban, but excellent none the less, before nodding to right. Douglas stepped up and removed the blindfold. He must've been down here longer than I thought, because it took him minute of blinking his eyes before he realized I sat in front of him. When he did he just about knocked himself to the floor trying to back away. I said nothing, didn't even move, while he had his little panic episode. Finally he got to the point where he was breathing raggedly though the cloth in his mouth and just staring at me with wide, red eyes.
"You know why you're here." And he did. His head jerked up at the acknowledgment, and he immediately started to ramble something but the gag stopped him from making any sense. The only thing I could make sense of was when he started sobbing. "Shut up." Another puff. "First, I'll put your mind at ease; your family will not be hurt. Not your wife, not your daughter, not even your mother-in-law who you have never shut up about. They will not be harmed in any way. If anything, they are safer now. None of them will even have to move from the city. Does this please you?" He actually takes a moment to think about it, then nods like he's okay with it. "Good. Mind you," and I let my voice grow harder, "they will never speak your name again. They will never think about you again. If they are lucky, they will be able to forget you entirely and never have your conscious cross theirs ever again. You will be less than deja vu to them, because they won't even remember if they forgot about you." Another slow puff, and his pant stain grows a little bigger. He starts crying again.
"You should know that what is about to happen, I take no pleasure in." Some from behind me took my jacket, and the chair went with them. Martin wheeled up the dentist's chair. "I loathe when this actually becomes necessary, and I detest when I need to become involved. But you, and your actions, have made this inevitable. And that is just one more reason I don't like you." Martin and three others moved in quickly, each grabbing a limb. He struggled as soon as any part of him was untied, and it was like watching linebackers wrestle with some methhead cranked up on PCP. Almost got free too, I'll give him that, though I doubt Charlie appreciated the kick to the stomach. I simply stood and watched, dropped the remains of the cigar to the floor and rubbing it out, waiting for them to finish.
Martin finally got a hold of the situation and clamped his hand around his neck. He still had fight in him, even as his face went red and his eyes started bulge a bit, at least until his arms went limp. Quickly they got him from one chair to the other, and used plastic ties to secure him to the reclined - rather plush, actually - dentist seat. His breathing was ragged and his eyes half-lidded as his head flopped to the side to stare at me. If he was trying to beg to me with his eyes, I wasn't seeing it. Maybe I didn't want to, but then again I wasn't in the mood to look.
Somebody wheeled up a cart as I stepped up beside him. "This was your doing. Remember that, as they do their work. I made the rules quite clear and was up front about penalties. When you choose to ignore these rules, you put not only myself, but your family, your friends, every person in this room and outside's lives in danger. All because you are a little man with a big ego. And you always have been. And so here you are."
I stood up and looked across the room. His name remains unsaid, but for different reasons than that the scum in the chair. No one knew his name, but everyone knew how to find him. The surgical gloves weren't necessary, but they added to the illusion and I think that's what he enjoyed about it. He nodded, and moved closer under the light.
Douglas brought me my jacket, and had the door opened before I was even there. I slipped on my coat and looked down; fear was the only thing left in his eyes. “As I said, this is not something I do for enjoyment. This is not revenge. This is not personal. You broke the rules, my rules, and now simply reaping the rotten fruits.” I kneeled closer so he had to look me in the eye. “This is not personal. Simply punishment.”
I stood and turned, precise steps taking me out of the room. The other man stepped forward to the light.
“Remove the gag, please.”
If he screamed anything as I left it was drowned out by the loud tone of the metal door closing. The only following sounds where the scrap of the deadbolts being put back in place.
Then silence. Not even a whisper from behind the door.
I hate this job.
***
Lord, just simply copy/pasting makes me want to go back and rewrite it all over again.