«» — ROANAPUR: A GIRLS' NIGHT IN — «»
«» — Chapter One — «»
«» — A.N — «»
This is a byblow from Aloha Boom Boom. That be a much longer story at over a thousand words. Whatever about one scene begging to say more there was no room for more shite in the main feature. So this gets let out as a story by itself.
Umkay … depending on your tolerance you might wanna have a bottle of brain bleach handy for this one.
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Balalaika is an artist at execution; from over the phone she paints Revy a picture of the job she wants done. Another Hotel Moscow Hunter-Team thinks it can come and grab some glory by gunning into Roanapur and then by gunning down the target with nary a trace of a reference to Balalaika.
Fryface figures the other team will find out soon enough what teeth Roanapur has. Just to be sure of it, she wants Revy as her attack dog and she doesn't want even one of that upstart army walking away breathing.
It's a message Balalaika would like the Hotel Moscow Head Office to learn: leave Roanapur to the local team; this town eats any amateurs alive. Fryface is fully confident that Revy is up to the job and up to taking any flak — therefore keeping Balalaika's hands clean is part of the deal. Revy is a tough enough girl to swallow whatever occurs.
One more little detail is that there is to be a video; Balalaika wants a sweet little home movie of wholesale slaughter to send home to the folks. Spreading around some few nightmares about Roanapur is gonna buy Balalaika a lot of valuable breathing space.
Revy has fixed it with Dutch to spend the night in the Lagoon office; she is meant to meet up with the cameraman the night before they go into action but she is damned if she is going to let anyone else at all spend time at her place — so the office it is. She is barely done with the arrangements before an ever polite Rock is ushering the cameraman up the stairs.
It is Sawyer and even she seems stunned at the sight of Revy. Two Hands has had the luck to have just come away from a gory shooting, while every chance to clean up has slipped out of her fingers. She may as well have walked right out of a horror movie: her boots are crusted in blood; croptop and shorts are stiff with it; the gore has even reached her gun-holsters; all of her legs and most of her arms are incarnadined; her bare belly and even her back are limned with blood; her face and her very hair are mired in gore; no chance at all of finding so much as an inch of her unbloodied. Revy speaks first.
« How the buggering fuck do you get to be a cameraman as well as every shitting thing else you do? »
Sawyer recovers her voice — from her pocket — and replies; as she swings a black, canvas rucsac of off of her back and rummages around to charge up the camera as she talks. So the chat is a bit disjointed.
« A lot of my customers … like to see proof of me doing my job … A lot of the time … it's the ones where the body isn't dead … when they bring it to me … You know … the sort of guys … who fancy a bit of torture being done … but don't wanna wade … in the piss, and shit and stink to get … a few answers … out of some sad bugger … Fucked up idiots … they puke … when they see the videos anyway … So … yeh … I do … video. »
Revy's face lights up and splits in half with a demonic grin; she's entirely forgotten her desire for a shower.
« Shit! Did you bring any of the fucking things with you? »
« Yes … a lot … I keep … samples »
By this time Sawyer has dumped an untidy stack of cassettes down on the end of the sofa facing the telly. Dutch wanders over and flicks though the titles. His brow furrows; even if his voice stays as level as ever.
« Guess us guys should leave you gals to it. I'll be sleeping on the boat Rock it'd be an idea if you came along too. »
« I'd rather not Dutch, after the day I've had, a quiet night in feels like a really good idea. I don't mind watching a bunch of chick flicks; it might even be relaxing. »
« Offer stays open. I'll be seeing you Rock. Girls have a good night. »
Dutch leaves with a surprising turn of speed. While Revy bustles the place into shape.
« Rock move your fucking ass; get the whiskey outta the car. The Irish shit Chang gave us from his last heist. I'm gonna dig out the last of those fucked up bags of popcorn you bought; the ones you thought were dried potato for the boat. Sawyer; vid is your baby. »
By the time Rock is back with some bottles of Killbegging and Cullamore he finds the two girls sat on the sofa, simply waiting for him to fill their glasses, before Sawyer sets the video going. The threesome companionably watch, as the film begins to roll, while they fill themselves with whiskey and popcorn.
It seems to be some kind of a crime flick, as it opens with a blindfolded, bound and gagged businessman being hustled down an alley. You can tell the shadowy captors behind him don't care one scrap for their prisoner, as they hurry him along so fast he keeps on falling. His suit is dirty and torn; the knees ripped out and bleeding and one shoe gone. He is filthy and sweating; panting for breath under the stress and the gag. His chest heaves and his heavy belly sways.
Then the alley ends at a door against which he is slammed heavily; so that it flys open and he falls flat on his face in the corridor inside. His captors literally walk over him to get inside. For the first time in the film you can see the villain who has done this — it is Sawyer.
It takes Rock's brain a moment to twist around this development then he gets it; these aren't movies or even home movies, they're work records. By the time his attention is back on the screen the man has been moved into a room and bound to a chair; the video is steadier so it must be on a stand. Sawyer has got the man stripped naked and firmly secured; she is whispering what must be questions in the man's ear. as
The captive is violently shaking his head and blatantly resisting. Sawyer doesn't seem to be the least concerned as she fetches a small angle grinder and methodically removes all of his toes; taking care to give the camera a clear view all the time and Rock an all too clear view. The man must be a fool as he still says nothing though he is certainly screaming loudly enough by now. There is a lull in the action as a hulk of a man comes in and gets instructions from Sawyer.
« Rock has turned white by now but Revy has turned livid. »
« What the hell is this buggering shit; it's slower than a whale an' twice as dull. Thought you had some fucking good stuff! »
« Hell, Revy; gotta start the fuckers slow or they up and die 'fore you can have any fun. It's gonna get good right now with the cold buffet. »
Rock gulps hard not to lose the contents of his stomach as he sees what a cold buffet is. Sawyer has a surgical dish with the man's own toes in it; they look uncomfortably like a lot of uncooked sausages and indeed Sawyer is trying to make the man eat one. He is refusing of course but that's why Sawyer uses burly assistants.
One Punch - man opens mouth. Two Punch - man swallows. Repeat nine more times. Sawyer doesn't so much as try to ask anything; simply works at grossing the guy out and letting him know he has fallen into a nightmare that there is no coming back from. The video is having about the same effect on Rock till there is a reprieve from Sawyer.
« Boring bit. The shock always makes the buggers clam up; you gotta give them enough hours to remember what planet they're on. It's all on camera but there'll only be screams and moans for forever; dull. »
« So jump a-fucking-head already; you get any shitting word outta him or did ya have to go for the fingers. Hey; if it's a tough guy do you feed him his pisser? »
Rock really does not like this kind of chat; it makes his personal tackle feel unusually vulnerable. Sawyer has already skipped ahead and it's obvious the guy is too stupid to talk before he loses a lot more of his valuable bits. The angle grinder is going at his fingers now; Sawyer going at it like a surgeon — and worryingly she might have been one once — while her assistant holds the finger bowl for the fingers to simply drop into. Once again the guy gets a diet of cold meats and then, uselessly, passes out. Sawyer skips ahead again; explaining.
« Guys I get sent can be real meatheads; Some bossman drills it into them they've not gotta talk or Mr Bossman will play the devil on them and the guy ain't got the sense to get that nothing gets fucking worse than me. »
« What the fuck do you with a guy like that? I'd plug 'em fulla holes until they got tired of me shooting shit out of 'em »
« It's a real chore; you've just gotta keep on going till you drive the guys bugfuck crazy. They'll tell you anything soon as they get past being human beings. »
« Sucks to have your job. Whadda you say Rock. »
Rock doesn't say much and what he does say comes out in a narrow voice from between tight lips; as the film has indeed got to the part where the man is expected to eat his own manhood plus Sawyer bypassed the angle grinder for rusty, blunt cutters that she kindly gave the man a good view of, before setting to work.
« You're evil. Both of you. »
Revy laughs in great amusement.
« Don't be such a fucking pisshead Rock; have a bit of fun. Spot you twenty Sawyer goes for the balls next. What's your pick? »
Rock simply shakes his head as Revy crows in triumph as the man has lost his balls even while they were talking but Sawyer goes for a switch here. Her flunky produces a small camping stove and pan and Sawyer begins to fry up some meatballs for the man's snack.
« Damn, fucking, hell! Lookit that Rock! Gotta hand it to Sawyer; she sure knows how to twist the screws. The look on his face an' get those eyes. How the shit much longer you figure the turd is gonna keep his mind? »
« Longer than me; feels like. »
On film Sawyer has got to feeding the guy the meatballs and this time he doesn't need to be forced; he's plainly enjoyed the smell of cooking and the taste of what he's eating; it's little surprise as Sawyer has made good use of herbs and spices in her preparation.
She is obviously a good cook and he just as obviously is enjoying what's been cooked — until he gets what it is he is eating and his eyes pure bug out of his head as he attempts to spit it out but his tormentors are too quick and efficient; with Sawyer clamping a hand on his mouth and the flunky gutpunching him within seconds of his reaction. Impressive but not so much to Revy who is complaining about the show.
« How much more of this sick shit are you gonna fucking make us watch? »
Rock is indescribably relieved to find that Revy is as human as he is and can't stomach the vile crap that amuses a torturer and butcher like Sawyer. He is glad Revy has called time on the parade of horrors. Glad at least until Sawyer pauses the film at Revy's next remark.
« It's getting all too buggering much same of the same; ain't ya gonna shift the beat? »
« You got that one right, Revy; there's a change just coming up. You're good at spotting this shit so what'd you do next? »
« Vinegar. »
« Yeah, that's a classic: pickle his wounds and plug your ears for the screams but it only ups the tempo and right there I wanna change the beat all the way. Can't argue with you though, vinegar is coming. You've really got a feel for this stuff. »
« Usedta do the same kinda shit before jumping in with Dutch. »
« You oughta call round one day; give me a hand just for the fun of it. Whadda you say? »
« Figure I'll take you up on that. So what shit you got lined up for the fuckweed next? »
Sawyer doesn't reply; just grins and restarts the film and there is her videoself with a small hand-drill. Her assistant applies a dental gag to the victim, the sort that keeps a mouth open, then Sawyer starts drilling down into the dentures. You can tell when she has struck oil, struck a nerve by the way the man spasms and clenches his hands on the arms of the chair.
Well, he tries to clench his hands but that isn't so easy minus fingers and all he achieves is some form of a spastic twitch. Revy is like a little kid as she points out the hand action and busts herself up laughing. Rock hopes this has distracted his friend from noticing that he's just lost the entire contents of his stomach into an empty popcorn bag.
After a while of this Sawyer switches tactics; she has her man bludgeon the sides of the victims jawline with a blackjack. Once the teeth are loosened up by the beating, Sawyer hands her muscleman a set of pliers and he sets to pulling, twisting and tugging till a tooth comes loose. Every time another piece of pearly white is plucked loose Sawyer muffles the victim's screams with her hand so that, when the tooth is dropped into the stainless steel basin, the distinctive plink is heard distinctly; unfailingly the victim flinches from the sound, as if electroprodded.
It takes some time but eventually every one of the back teeth have been torn out of the mouth and the victim begins to retch, gag, choke and then turn consecutively red, white and blue as he begins to gag on his own blood running down from the insides of his ruined mouth. Sawyer lets this carry on for some while till she carefully tips the man's head forward, allowing him to safely vomit his very own blood out onto his bare chest. Revy is fascinated. Rock has other notions.
« Don't the face go a fucking weird shit shape when you ain't got teeth in it. »
« Ugh, yeh, it certainly does. Look, why don't I order you girls some pizza? Keep the film running; I won't mind at all if I miss some of it, honestly. »
« Thanks Rock. Get 'em spicy with plenty of meat and lots of 'em. I'm getting hungry just by watching myself work; that guy was a handful but he makes a great show don't he! »
« An' we'll rewind the shit film for you, for sure. I won't fucking mind seeing it again an' I'm not gonna let you miss any of the juicy bits. Fuckit yeah an' when you order see if they got any of those little cocktail sausages; I've got a hankering for 'em right now. »
The girls nearly never get their pizza, as Rock tries to throttle the telephone till it snaps into two. He, personally, doesn't feel like he'll ever be able to face a pork sausage ever again. In the background he hears the girls talking.
« Pizza! Yeh, I've gotta video here called Blondie Pizza; itsa new idea I had. Wanna see? We can come back to this singer later; it's gonna be forever 'fore he gets helpful. »
« Shit, yeh, okay, whatever; just spin the fucker on to the good parts. I'm not gonna sit through anymore of your dullcrap, filmista shit. »
Rock places the order to the sounds of a new film being set up. He does a doubletake as he doubles back from the phone; he has caught sight of the two gleeful girls just as a scream from the set reaches his ears. You'd never get a horrorshow as bad as this: an urban sofa; a black and white dressed goth chick who has had her throat slashed open; a gunsel girl wearing more blood than clothes; one dark girl and one red girl — if you were asked you'd take bets that the one gun girl had done for the goth girl and gotten the blood all over herself.
On the screen this time it is a young and pretty blonde girl who is strapped into a chair. She is as naked as the guy was; only her legs aren't tied to the chairlegs but are spread painfully wide by a spreader bar, without any padding of course. Her breasts have been bound around with wire that cuts tight enough to draw blood even as it makes the breasts swell out like purple balloons.
Weights have been attached to the nipples in order to drag the breasts downwards, even as they bulge outward. Apart from the video camera taking the film there is a second camera in view on the screen that is pointed straight at the girl but the attached monitor is angled so that she can only just catch glimpses of it by squinting.
« This your buggering great idea is it Sawyer; I've done worse than this. »
« Course not, watch and learn Revy. You gotta think how the bint is gonna feel everything but won't know what's happening other than by what she gets to see on monitor; which she ain't gonna be able to manage but she's gonna drive herself nuts trying to see. There aint enough kandiflos in the world to make her feel better after this headache. »
With that there comes a roar from the screen. The onscreen Sawyer has started up a large angle grinder and the sound is filling the girl's ears but she can't see what all is making the noise. Then Sawyer sets the angle grinder to just below the crown of the girl's head and gets to work with concentration; slicing off the dome of the top of the girl's head in just the same way other folks lop the top off of their hardboiled egg; before setting out on the nine to five routine. Her flunky is there to lift off this first slice and place it on a heavy, stainless steel tray. Sawyer then repeats what she has just done, by removing the next slice of the girl's cranium.
That the girl is feeling every second of this and feeling it agonisingly acutely is clear by her screams and tears, by the snot running from her nose and the drool from her mouth; along with the piss and shit she's depositing onto the saran wrap Sawyer was sensible enough to leave under the chair. By the fourth slice the girl has nearly bugged her eyes out of their sockets and corkscrewed her neck around trying to catch more than the mere flicker of motion from the monitor just out of her sight.
Inevitably Sawyer, the virtuoso, chooses to alter the tempo around this time. She poses with the angle grinder held but a bare inch off from the girl's head as her flunky goes and, oh so very slowly, turns the monitor around for the girl to get a good look at herself.
It's easy to see when she catches the view, as she flings her head back to scream and scream and scream till she's hollered herself hoarse and breaks off in a coughing fit; which is just the moment Sawyer chooses to take the next slice — only now the tray isn't beside her but in front of the girl, so the flunky has to take each segment and stack it on the tray right under the girl's eyes.
The girl can choose between watching what is happening to her on the monitor or seeing what has happened to her; by counting the mounting amount of headmeat on the tray. She can also close her eyes and try to ignore the whole dreadful nightmare but, as soon as she tries that trick, Sawyer is there with some cocktail sticks to make sure that the next time the girl closes her eyelids it will be the last time.
Rock also attempts to close his eyes to the action and even puts his hands over his ears and his head between his legs but nothing can quite cut out the sounds from the screen and he is ineluctably drawn back to watching, to knowing what is causing the cries; as it is far worse hearing and imagining than it is hearing and seeing and knowing.
In truth he'd have been happy to have died before knowing any of this and dreads that he'll never be able to scrub these vignettes out of his brain. Revy hasn't the least intention of closing her eyes to any of it; she's wide eyed and leaning forward in her seat, with a grin straight from hell slashed across her face.
« Fuckshit genius, Sawyer. Next go try an' get the slices thinner; helldamn I'll help you! »
« Yeh well … girls … good luck … if you're … into … this kinda … thing … Gotta say … it's kinda … boring … for me … I think … I'll have … more fun … on the boat … with Dutch … Goodnight. »
Rock gets up to go but he isn't fooling anyone with his face a bilious crossover of white and green, his robotic walk, clenched fists and clamped mouth. It even gets worse from there: the images he's left with will leave him on the deck of the boat all night long; heaving his guts dry. He hears the girl's voices drifting down the stairs after him; it's a wondering and admiring Revy first, then Sawyer.
« How the hellshit do you get a breast to do that !? »
« Get over here and I'll show you. »
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