Butcher
butch·er
–noun
1. One who slaughters animals for food or market
2. One that slaughters indiscriminately or brutally
–transitive verb
1. To kill people or game in a cruel or barbarous manner
Amigodude made a cool poster for this story. Check it out: ergo-proxie(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/Butcher-134385891
Black Lagoon and its characters © Rei Hiroe
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre © New Line Cinema
Hostel © Lionsgate
CHAPTER ONE: BAD KITTY
The young man slowly regained consciousness, and his eyes twitched as they cracked open. He groaned, droplets of blood leaking from his mouth. Everything around him was a blur. He blinked for clarity. The blurs diminished and he was finally able to make out his surroundings.
He screamed.
The room was a greenish-gray, dully illuminated by flickering lights overhead and what looked to be a large oven in a far off corner. There were numerous tables, all of them occupied by dismembered bodies, piles of limbs and severed torsos stacked on top of each other. The man whined and tried to push the corpse he was underneath off of himself. It was then that he realized both of his hands were missing, now also aware of the fresh cuts on his body. Previous events that had landed him in this situation flooded back into his mind.
He shook his head violently. He didn't want to remember them. He just wanted to get out of this horrible place.
With effort, he pushed the dead body off with the stubs, stings going through his nerves from the still bleeding wounds. In doing so, he rolled off of the table and hit the floor. He slowly got to his feet, searching for an exit, doing his best not to look at the corpses around him. He spotted two doors and made his way towards them with a sob. Tears streamed down his face as he held the stubs of his arms outwards, only a meter away from the door.
There was a grotesque crack as a sledgehammer struck him in the leg and shattered his kneecap. He screamed and fell to the ground, instinctively curling in a ball. A small figure clothed in a blood-stained apron and surgeon's scrubs stepped out from behind a pile of bodies on a table, and there was a heavy clatter as the sledgehammer was dropped. The figure grabbed the man by the ankles and dragged him over to a nearby table, clearing off a dismembered head. The man was placed on top of it with a harsh, almost effortless shove. Before the young man could fully assess who, or what, had attacked him, the rotating blade of the saw bit into his neck.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"You're full of shit!"
"I'm not joking!" A large, bulky man wearing a black apron and rubber gloves moved his hand in a wild gesture, his voice laced with an accent that was difficult to distinguish. He stood at the head of a cleared off table surrounded by other men dressed in similar attire. They all had smirks. The man continued.
"This morning, the guy was covered head-to-toe in cuts, had no hands either, and he was still alive! I opened the doors and only saw it for a second, but he was screaming like a banshee on that table until she cut his head off."
"Poor bastard," one of other men chuckled, "Probably passed out from blood loss and the customer thought he was dead, sent him downstairs to get chopped up by Wednesday Addams." They all burst into laughter.
"How unfortunate," one of them muttered, adjusting the straps of his apron, "That's bad luck, ending up on her shift..."
"All of you, shut up!" The jovial atmosphere diminished and they turned towards the entrance of the room with scowls. There stood five younger males holding a good amount of luggage.
"We cleared everything out of the rooms down by the hostel," said the man in the middle.
"You don't say?" said one of the cleaners gathered around the table. He spat afterwards. The men with the luggage curled their lips, and the cleaners returned the expression. One of men at the entrance lifted up a suitcase.
"There are still some cleaners in the main disposal room in the north hall, right? Okay, you guys here take these and—"
"We know the drill, just leave that shit here," snapped a cleaner.
"You ugly bastards take these..." the young man ad-libbed, brandishing the luggage he held, "Passports, licenses, credit cards, photographs, even clothing, anything that would give the identity of the body, you burn, got it?" With a curse or two under their breaths at the unneeded directions, the cleaners rolled their eyes as the five men dropped the luggage and walked out of the room, leaving the door open.
"I hate burning personal effects," whined one of the skinnier cleaners, lifting up a couple of suitcases and purses onto the table, "The smoke's bad for my sinuses."
"Would you rather be stuck in the main disposal room with mini-Morticia?" They all began to open the luggage and rummaged through the personal belongings.
"I don't share a shift with her there." Souvenirs, books, licenses, photographs and other items were separated into piles.
"Those greedy bastards," one of them cursed, looking into an empty wallet, "Of course they took the money while they cleaned out the rooms." He tossed it into a pile on the table. The others grumbled in agreement.
"Hey, look here, one of the 'guests' was religious." The bulky cleaner brandished a Bible. "A lot of good this did 'em." The bitterness receded as they all snickered. The bulky cleaner was just about to put the Bible into the book pile when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was small figure in surgeon's clothing, but the goggles and mask weren't present. She was walking by the door with her head forward, not looking into the room.
"Sawyer!" the man yelled, trying to get her attention, "Just got off your shift in the main room, did you? The 'maids' came, there could be a couple of books you'd be interested in."
"She doesn't have to burn today. The fuck are you calling her over here for?" hissed one of the cleaners. The others had an anxious look as Sawyer walked over to the table and snatched a book out of the pile. Passports and IDs were strictly reserved for burning, but the rule on books was more lax.
She examined the title and flipped through the pages clinically, before she snapped it shut and tossed it into the crematory across from the table. She repeated the process, unsatisfied with the contents she had to choose from, though truthfully, no one in the room could decipher any emotion in her features. After tossing "The Rats in the Walls" into the flames, she turned abruptly on her heel and walked out, heading south down the hallway.
"Awfully picky today," muttered the bulky cleaner, "She even burned Lovecraft."
"Not like she needs it," piqued the skinnier cleaner, shrugging. "It will just give her more to carry later." He was met with a quizzical look.
"What?" the large man asked.
"You haven't heard? Today is her last day here. She's getting transferred."
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
"Hi! M-my n-name i-is Ecki!" The lanky man held his hand out to the refined, groomed middle-aged gentleman sitting beside him in the back seat of the car.
"Rolf," the other man responded simply, self-consciously adjusting his tie and refusing to shake the outstretched hand. He took in Ecki's appearance. He had bleached blonde hair sticking out in every direction in a failed attempt at a mohawk, orange goggles on his forehead, one of the lenses were cracked, a dark green shirt with torn sleeves, ripped jeans, and tattered black sneakers. There were small holes in his arms and traces of a powdery substance on his clothing. Ecki looked to be in his late twenties at best, his body twitching and jerking at unpredictable moments while he shook like a leaf. It was terrible, the man couldn't speak without a stutter.
Rolf sighed and crossed his arms. A junkie, of all the people he could have been escorted by, it had to be a junkie. Ecki took no offense to the man refusing to shake and bounced up and down in his seat.
"S-s-so, y-you c-come from R-R-Roanap-pur, right? I h-heard a-all k-k-kinds of th-things a-about th-that p-p-place!" Ecki cackled and kicked the back of the driver's seat, irritating the chauffeur.
"Indeed, I come from the branch located in Roanapur," Rolf confirmed, running his hand over his short black hair. Oh, great, now the junkie was going to initiate conversation? All he wanted to do was pick up the new cleaners and leave...
"Y-y-you kn-know, we u-u-usually t-transfer wh-whores, but w-we n-never s-send out c-c-cleaners," Ecki started, "B-b-but wh-when we h-heard th-that A-Adolph w-was th-the one r-r-requesting, h-how c-could w-we refuse?"
"Yes, I'm sure my brother has quite an established reputation in this business," Rolf said flatly, almost ashamed of the words.
"S-s-so wh-what's g-going on th-that h-he n-n-needed to a-ask for e-extra h-help? Wh-why d-didn't h-he c-c-come here hims-self?"
"I'd rather not say," said Rolf. This was the fourth trip he had made that year for more cleaners. The hostel branches in Asia weren't giving his brother any more chances. Right now, Eastern Europe was the next best stop.
"Okay," Ecki said. "D-d-don't w-worry a-about a th-thing! You'll g-g-get y-your c-cleaner!"
"Cleaner?" Rolf noted the lack of plural form. "One cleaner is not going to be enough for the... situation back in Roanapur."
"T-trust me, sh-she's en-nough!"
"She?" Rolf gave him a skeptical look.
"I w-was l-l-lucky I c-caught h-her at the r-right t-time," Ecki rambled, smiling. "I-I w-was in H-Houston on vac-cation. W-was in a r-r-really b-bad part o-of t-t-town, s-sitting on t-top of m-my c-car ac-cross a r-run d-down m-m-motel, h-high as a k-kite t-too. G-good times! At n-night, I-I s-see th-this g-girl across th-the s-street w-w-wearing a p-purple d-dress a-and a b-b-backpack. Sh-she g-goes int-to a r-room w-with a g-guy w-way old-der th-than she i-is. I d-don't c-care ab-bout th-th-things like th-that."
Rolf inhaled slowly. What was the point of this story?
"I j-just s-s-sit across th-the s-street s-staring a-at the sk-sky, th-thinking ab-bout stuff. N-no one e-else i-is ar-round, b-but I h-h-hear th-this scream, a-and th-then it's real qu-quiet. I'm r-really o-out of it, a-and I g-g-get u-up and s-stumble a-a-around. W-wanted t-t-to s-see w-what th-the s-scream w-was about. Next th-thing I kn-know, I-I'm at th-the d-door. It w-was l-locked, so I p-peek th-th-through the w-window. N-no c-c-curtains, b-but the sh-shades were i-in the w-way, a-and the r-room w-was really d-dark. I l-look r-really h-h-hard through o-one of the g-g-gaps in th-the sh-shades, I s-see the g-g-guy o-on the b-bed..."
Rolf rolled his eyes. He didn't need to hear the sexual escapades of a stranger and a young girl.
"A-and o-on the d-dresser, and o-on th-the floor, a-and on th-the w-walls!" Ecki guffawed. "And th-there sh-she was, c-cutting th-through h-h-his l-leg with a h-hacksaw. Hahaha! D-don't kn-know for s-sure h-how i-it h-happened, but I b-b-bet sh-she k-killed h-him aft-ter she c-cut off his—"
"I get the idea," Rolf interjected. Ecki giggled and made a sawing motion towards his crotch.
"B-before that, I-I alw-ways th-thought d-d-dying d-during s-sex would b-be a g-good w-way to g-g-go. G-guess not..." Ecki said, "She h-had a s-sawzall t-too. Y-you c-could t-t-tell the g-guy w-was dead, h-he was i-in p-pieces, b-but sh-she just k-kept o-on c-cutting him up. R-really f-focused, l-like n-n-nothing else in th-the w-world w-was th-there b-besides that c-c-corpse and th-that saw. It w-was c-c-cool. I w-was stoned, b-b-but I kn-know p-potential w-when I s-see it."
Rolf cocked an eyebrow.
"I w-waited b-b-by th-the room u-until she w-was d-done. Aft-ter a r-r-really l-long t-time, sh-she opens th-the d-door real s-slow, and th-then s-sees me s-sitting u-under the w-w-window. I s-stand up, sh-she r-reaches ins-side h-her backp-pack, b-but then I t-t-took th-this out," Ecki pulled a business card out of his pocket, "A-and I t-told her, 'H-hey, I s-s-saw w-what you d-did there. Y-you're r-really g-g-good at i-it. I kn-know a p-p-place in Eur-rope w-where you c-c-can work, y-you get t-to ch-chop up b-b-bodies a-all the t-time. C-come with m-me there a-and y-you'll b-be hired.' Sh-she t-took the c-c-card, l-looked it o-over, and aft-ter a long t-time, sh-she n-nodded at m-me. She c-can't talk b-because of a b-big scar."
Ecki pointed to his neck.
"B-but I-I saw th-this scary l-look o-on her f-face, and I s-said, 'B-but d-d-don't try t-to k-kill me, okay? Y-you need m-me to g-get you th-there. Y-you'll b-be really l-lost; one wr-wrong move a-and you'll e-end up d-dancing i-in a g-g-glass box in Amsterdam!'" He laughed. "S-so we g-get the h-hell out of th-there, t-t-take the t-trip b-back here, I introd-duce her t-to the b-business, a-and she g-gets hired. I-I w-was really luck-ky! G-good thing I f-found her wh-when I d-did, F-Fargo Chen w-would have s-snatched her r-right u-up if I d-didn't!"
Ecki nibbled on his tongue in thought.
"She's b-been w-working for t-t-two y-years now, the b-best c-c-cleaner we have. Sh-she's a-all you n-need."
"If she really is as high quality as you say, why are you letting her go to Roanapur? Why not have her stay here and offer other cleaners if she does her job so well?" Rolf wasn't convinced.
"Hey, d-don't b-be like that! I'm t-t-telling the t-truth!" Ecki jerked himself forward until his noise was crammed against Rolf's. Rolf shoved him away. Licking his lips and hunching over, Ecki scratched the side of his head.
"Sh-she is th-the best," Ecki muttered, pursing his lips, "I-it's just... C-cleaning isn't j-j-just a j-job t-to her, it d-doesn't e-end at the sh-shift. She d-d-doesn't like t-to t-take b-breaks very much, j-j-just w-wants to k-k-keep c-cutting. I th-think she r-really l-likes it. It m-makes the oth-ther c-c-cleaners mad, they n-need t-to g-g-get their share d-done t-too. Th-they d-don't g-get p-p-paid if th-they d-don't haul their w-weight, b-but how c-can they h-haul the weight i-if she k-keeps t-taking it? It's b-b-been g-getting worse l-lately. Th-there were a c-c-couple of t-times w-we had t-to f-force her t-to stop."
"So you're letting her go because she works too much?" Rolf asked. Despite Ecki's uneasy stance, what the junkie said was uplifting to hear. If the girl really did work as much as Ecki said she did, he had hopes that the troubling situation that was taking place at the hostel branch in Roanapur would settle. Rolf tried not to bite on his lip. The work ethic was of no concern to him at this point, but what of the girl's mind?
"Th-that's p-part of it," Ecki confirmed, "She's r-real sc-scary too. G-got into the g-goth th-thing over a y-year ago, b-b-but she l-looked l-like a g-ghost way b-before she s-started w-wearing b-black. Has th-this l-look, it's n-not very n-nice. H-her eyes are the w-worst, can n-never t-tell what's g-g-going on i-in her h-head. The other c-c-cleaners are af-fraid of h-her. C-can you imag-gine? All th-these b-b-big, t-tough guys s-scared of a l-little, t-teenage g-girl. It's r-really funny!" Ecki snickered and began to kick the back of the driver's seat again. The chauffeur was about three seconds away from tossing Ecki out of the vehicle.
"A-and Ad-dolph is the o-one a-asking in the f-first p-place. He's g-got a g-good r-rep in these p-parts. We're n-not g-going t-to g-give him s-second rate. She's the–!"
"Yes, yes, I get it, she's the best you have," Rolf said hurriedly. The rest of the drive continued in silence, save for the loud snorting Ecki was making after her pulled out a white, powdery substance and lined it up on his hand.
"I m-miss Leigarch. H-he h-had the g-good stuff. N-not this shit. I'm b-b-better off s-sniffing g-g-glue these d-days," Ecki mumbled as he rubbed his nose. He smiled and squished his face and hands right up against the window.
"We're h-here!" The vehicle stopped and the chauffeur silently thanked whatever invisible force up above for making it through the trip without strangling Ecki. Rolf took in the scenery as he and Ecki stepped out of the car. It was a run-down factory building a little ways out of the nearest town, a couple of cars parked outside. The rest of the area was dirt and gravel with a small patch of dried grass here and there. It wasn't anything too special at first glance. The crows flying around and resting on the factory building cawed. The calls mixed together, almost sounding like laughter.
Ha! Haha! Ha! Haha! Ha!
"This is w-where th-the m-magic h-happens!" Ecki thrust his arms up in the air and waved them around. "O-once our p-p-prostitutes l-lure the 'g-guests' t-to the h-hostel and w-we d-d-do some b-b-background ch-checks, this is w-where w-we d-d-drag them s-so we c-can service the r-real c-c-customers ins-side. B-businessmen, p-p-politicians, a-average c-citizens, a-anyone who's w-willing t-to s-spend the money, r-really. The c-c-cops d-don't b-bother us s-since we p-pay them w-well."
Rolf sighed. He was involved in this business for years. There wasn't any need for Ecki's explanation, but he knew it would be a useless attempt to interrupt him in full flow.
"The c-customer c-can t-torture at th-their leisure, d-depending o-on the hours th-they p-payed f-for, of c-c-course. The b-building d-doesn't look like m-much, b-but we m-modified it t-to p-provide m-many th-themed r-rooms. M-most of them a-are on th-the c-center f-floors. The s-s-superiors' off-fices are o-on the t-t-top, the c-cleaners s-stay in th-the b-b-basement l-levels. That's w-where y-your c-cleaner w-will b-b-be. She h-has h-her own r-room d-d-downstairs. She l-lives h-here." Ecki placed his hands on Rolf's shoulders.
"Ah, y-you s-stay here. We've b-b-been r-really b-busy, w-we d-didn't h-have a ch-chance t-to c-clean up the p-place and m-make it l-look nice."
Rolf furrowed his eyebrows and curled his lip. It was an old factory building.
"W-wait by the c-car, I'll t-tell her y-you're here. Sh-she sh-should b-be d-done and r-ready b-by now. Sh-she'll b-be r-right out." Ecki turned around and scuttled into the building. Crossing his arms and leaning against the car, Rolf tried to compose himself. He looked up and saw the murder of crows overhead staring at him with their beady, black eyes, still cawing, laughing.
He felt himself shrink into his suit.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
Agonizing screams and cries of the unfortunate "guests" echoed through the vents. The young girl intertwined her fingers together, twiddling her thumbs with a blank stare. It didn't bother her. She was used to it.
She looked up to the ceiling. Ecki, an unorthodox manager of sorts, was supposed to pick her up, wasn't he? She half-heartedly wondered what was taking him so long. It wasn't surprising the idiot was taking his sweet time. He probably got desperate and started sniffing glue in a paper bag before he was supposed to leave the nearby hostel. The corners of her lips curved upwards, but the smile was empty.
She narrowed her eyes. Ecki's condition was critical. The man was ready to drop dead at any second. Sawyer overheard the other cleaners saying they had a death pool betting on which one of them was going to have to clean him up first. Even the those who held a high position in the hostel were expecting his death soon.
She could imagine it all now. Ecki would come waltzing into the building, heart beating at impossible speeds. Thump, thump, thump, and splurt! Ecki's heart would burst out of his chest, and he would lay motionless on the ground as his heart squirted six feet of blood in every direction while it pulsated across the floor. She knew it was an impossible situation, but it was an amusing thought.
She remembered when she had met Ecki, playing out the scenario in her mind. Back when she was fourteen in Texas, she needed money and had come across some old pervert with a stuffed wallet. She took him to a practically isolated motel. The man was an easy target, she knew she would be able to take him out with a butcher knife in her backpack the moment he closed the door. Then she pulled out the hacksaw and sawzall...
Next thing she knew, it was all over. She had gathered her things and whatever valuables she could use, then stepped out slowly, only to find an addict baked out of his mind sitting right outside the room, telling her he saw what she did. She was going to slash his throat and cut him apart in the nearby alley, but then he showed her that business card. It was in a language she couldn't understand, but the logo had struck a cord. She saw it tattooed on some men she had overheard bragging about taking a "murder vacation", a conversation she kept in the back of her head. The business prospects Ecki was talking about did seem genuine, but she was skeptical.
She thought out a list of precautions to take in case he tried to betray her. She didn't want to end up in a glass box in Amsterdam on display like a toy, though from her observation, the sickly addict didn't exactly fit the profile of the gigolos that seduced women and sold them to whorehouses. Though if he tried to trick her and she wound up killing him, she'd end up backpacking through Europe. However, when she considered her other options as a runaway staying in the Southwestern United States, anonymity in Europe with a job didn't seem like such a terrible idea.
In the end, her better judgment had assessed that Ecki, while severely out of it, was being honest about the job offer. She had accepted, but she was still wary. Fortunately, Ecki was true to his word and she was hired.
Her mind drifting, her dark blue eyes wandered along the surrounding décor. The entire room was concrete, tiny cracks and pipes creeping along the walls, the only source of light in the room was the flickering light bulb dangling from the ceiling. It wasn't the best living space, but that hardly mattered to her. It was the closest place to her work, to the bodies. That was important.
It was the main reason she had accepted the job offer. Dismembering the bodies was her therapy, her outlet. It angered her when she was forced to take a break, one of the most drastic examples being that Ecki and the other cleaners had tried to grab her by the waist and drag her out of the main disposal room only three days ago. If that was going to be their attitudes, she would be satisfied with moving to Thailand.
It was disappointing when she had to stop. The dismemberment and disposal was a good reprieve from her emotional issues, which had worsened horribly only months after she ran away from home when she was twelve and had her throat slit...
Her train of thought broken, she began to sweat. Her breathing was erratic and she gripped for the electrolarynx in the pocket of her skirt for comfort.
She blinked and composed herself as she heard a groan in the corner. Her roommate was awake.
A glowing green eye stared at her from across the room, the other missing with a grotesque scar across the right side of the face. The short black strands were matted with dried blood, pieces were missing on the ears, a dent in its tail, and there were claw marks in the scruff of the neck from previous fights with other predators. The creature was battered and scarred, but from the way it acted, one would think it only had a flesh wound. It had somehow found its way into the factory building and settled into her room several weeks ago.
She named the cat Pluto. It was her pet.
She displayed another empty smile. No, Pluto wasn't a pet. Certainly not a pet. It was probably abused as a kitten or abandoned at birth. The cat showed no affection, regarding anyone around it as nothing more than an object in its environment. Aside from the initial appearance, the feline didn't show a single trait of being domesticated. Though it could still be in the company of humans, given the proper distance. God help anyone who so much as tried to get within three feet of Pluto, let alone try to pet it. She didn't doubt that it would scratch her face off if she attempted to move towards the little cardboard box it was resting in.
The corner of her mouth twitched. What a mangy creature. She would have happily chopped Pluto to bits if it weren't for that fact that it was the only thing that was killing the small vermin that entered her room.
There was a knock at the door.
"S-S-Sawyer? Y-y-you i-in th-there?" The knob turned and Ecki poked his head in. "Ah, th-the m-man f-from Roanap-pur is h-here. H-he's w-w-waiting outs-side. Y-y-you r-ready t-to g-go?" Sawyer pulled the dark black sleeves of her shirt over her wrists and rose from her spot on the ratty bed, picking up a duffel bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She wasn't going to bother with Pluto.
"O-okay, th-then, l-let's g—" Ecki saw something out the corner of his eye. He walked over to the small cardboard box and his face reflected an expression like that of a child on Christmas morning. Ecki gasped, threw his hands up in the air, bent over to grab Pluto, and in a high-pitched squeal, miraculously without a single stutter, shouted:
"KITTY!"
A horrendous, ear-splitting noise erupted from the cat's throat. It unsheathed its claws and slashed Ecki's face to ribbons. The man instantly had a heart attack and fell over. Pluto continued to claw at the man, managing to scratch out one of his eyeballs in the process.
Sawyer walked over and kicked Pluto away. The cat hissed, but didn't attack her. Instead, it strode over and pawed at the eyeball, snatching it away and going back into its cardboard box before Sawyer had a chance to kick it again.
Sawyer looked down at the corpse with indifference. Well, that was an interesting ten seconds.
A minute or two later, she was donned in her surgical gear.
Pluto happily munched on the eyeball as Sawyer pulled the ripcord on the chainsaw. The man from Roanapur could wait.
A/N: Don't do drugs, kids.
Oh, no, I'm attempting a multi-chapter story. In all honesty, I was trying to abstain from writing this tale for months (way back in October of 2008), but then it literally began to haunt me in my sleep, and I knew the dreams wouldn't stop until I wrote it out. So... here it is. A man with no hands wakes up underneath a corpse, Sawyer was living in a building where people are tortured 24/7, and a drug addict gets his eyeball eaten by a cat, and that's just the first chapter. I feel ashamed.
99.999% of the time, I stay away from making OCs in fanfiction, but in this situation, they were needed for the sole reason of moving the plot along. They're just devices to use at my whim and get tossed aside when I feel they've served their purpose. Nothing more, nothing less. The story is about Sawyer and her past, not the OCs.
I apologize for making you read through all those evil hyphens in Ecki's speech, and if you all thought reading his stutter was a pain, try writing it.
While there are many references to the movie "Hostel" and it will be a prevalent theme in future chapters, the characters from that movie are not/will not be used or mentioned. Also, deviating from the movie, the location of the "hostel" mentioned in this chapter is not placed in Slovakia (Bratislava is not a 19th century village, you silly tourists), but I will say it is set in a random slum-ish area somewhere in Eastern Europe. All I really wanted was a vague setting for this chapter.
With that out of the way, I will clarify that while the characters and exact setting from the movie "Hostel" will be pushed aside, it is extremely important to keep the business venture (the "murder resort") that the movie was based around in mind. If there truly was a business solely dedicated to torture and murder, they'd need a lot of people on hand to get rid of the bodies. It's an interesting theory that Sawyer possibly could have gotten a start on her official cleaning resume in a place like that.
The events of this story have somewhat loose connections to the collaboration I did with Amigodude, "Bloodlust," (TCM references coming) but I will also write those references vaguely enough for the story to stand alone and to avoid confusion for those of you who have not read the collaboration, and for those of you haven't read it, I recommend doing so when you have the time. We worked very hard on that story!
Speaking of Amigodude, props to him for bringing Fargo Chen to my attention – A Triad boss from Hong Kong that operated out of Houston up until he got arrested. And, once again, thank you for the poster.
Cheers.
