Revenge
"Is that the man who killed my father?"
The young woman bent over the body on the table for a closer look, her trim figure casting a stark shadow in the harsh electric light. Behind her, Victor shuffled his feet uncertainly. He hands dug in his trouser pockets, then hung limply at this side.
"You don't need to know his name."
"Don't tell me how to do my job, okay, Vic?" She could feel his sigh move the small hairs on her neck.
"His name is Wolverine." he muttered at last.
"Mutant name." she whispered, eyes glinting as she regarded her catch on the examination table. "What's his skill?"
"Kathryn, I really don't think you should be doing this." Victor whined.
"What's his skill?" she demanded, eyes never leaving the table.
"He's a killer, a slayer. Out of your league."
"Telling me how to do my job again, Vic?" Her laughter was harsh, unpleasant.
Victor looked back at his superior standing by the door, arms folded like a bodyguard on duty. He received an imperceptible nod.
"He has Adamantium claws. Ten inches long, 3 on each hand. He's dangerous, Kathryn."
"I'll take care of it." She went to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly before reaching for a large pair of shears.
"You're sure these will cut his bones?" she asked.
Victor rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. We've been over this, remember?"
She prodded the warm flesh with the shears. There was no response. "Yeah. I remember." she murmured.
Kathryn gave the body a vile grin. "You took a long time to catch, my friend, but now it's payback time. I can do with you whatever I like, and you will give me your secrets. I am not my father's daughter for nothing."
She gripped the shears and carefully made the first incision, just below the neck, cracking down hard when she hit bone. The flesh split open, warm liquid running down on the table at either side of the body. She methodically separated out the bones, laying the flesh to one side. The rich juices were still dripping from the body, gathering in a large tray underneath.
Kathryn worked, taunting her helpless victim with a stream of profanities. She had waited a long time for her moment of revenge.
* * *
Victor crept out of the room, disgusted with the ferocious display of senseless destruction. He poured a scotch and sank into an armchair. He and Striker had gone through the academy together, and then served side by side for many years until Striker had been moved to Special Ops.
Kathryn was Striker's girl, but she had always been like a daughter to him and Thelma. Striker's death, together with Jason's demise, had hit her hard. But he didn't care what anyone said, next year Kathryn would have to find her own damn turkey to dissect. He couldn't be doing with these ridiculous games every Thanksgiving.
- The End –