Chapter 1: Old Habits
Giving a speech on the news station is a man name Serge Kayaru, a self-proclaimed freedom fighter who some would call a hero. He has built a reputation battling underground slave rings with much success over years. Not only Afrika but also in Asia, Uganda, Uzbekistan and Yugoslavia. He travels with an entourage of female bodyguards all of which have been former slaves and now have sworn an oath to him. Ten are with Kayaru at the moment but it is believed he has a small army. Right now he's giving a press conference live to the public on fighting this atrocity. That was before a splatter of blood came across the 20 inch Magnavox TV.
'Do we look homeless?' I said. "There's already color on the tube so don't add your own fucking Red-Ray Hi-definition. Take a seat and make yourself at home."
My crew drags him to one of the chairs, sat him down and cuffed him to it. The four of us are about to go to work. Everybody had the usual white overall jumpsuits. No, more like white and red with all the bloodstains. Today we got on plastic face mask of US presidents. Since I was top dog I chose Washington. My second is Hamilton and the others are Lincoln and Jackson. Personally I would have been fine with just ski mask and call it a day but the guys like to do this dress up shit from time to time. That and I lost the damn coin toss. The poor bastard I'm standing in front of has a brown maintence staff uniform on. Nothing special, just some low life about to be punished.
We're in one of our custom basements we sometimes bring folks to ask hard questions or just to work over. It was a big enough room with grey brick walls. To the far right was where we kept our equipment and to the left there are shackles on the wall, enough to hold five people max. Did a little decorating by adding a TV and couch about seven feet behind where I'm standing. All of us were in the middle of the room with most of the lights off for effect. Except for what a overhead bulb and what was coming from everyone's favorite idiot box.
"The mask should help you think of us as part of the system that runs this poor excuss of a country."
I stop to read the id in his wallet. "Chester". I said only reading the first name. No need to be formal.
"And the system is made to steal, cheat and bleed you dry. Not the other way around."
Of course he was scared and he should be. Sweating already.
"Goddamn your dripping all over the place. Let me dry you off."
I threw a cross to his right eye. On cue Lincoln pulled his head back.
"You're getting off light…Very light."
I pulled out a photo from his wallet and watched his eyes light up.
"Won't mind getting a piece of that action. The wife and daughter got it going on." Jackson said.
"Wanna run a train on them?" Hamilton added.
"No no no no please don't them! I-I know I screwed up and I'm willing to accept the consequences, just-"
I cut him off with another cross. Don't get me wrong, I like it when they beg. but when it just goes on and on and on I get annoyed.
"I don't give a rat's ass what you're willing to accept. You're gonna take what I give. Like I said your getting off light but if I were you, I won't push my luck. Understood?'
"Y-yes sir."
"Took some serious kahunas trying to do a snatch and grab from ."
"Fucking gigantic pair." Lincoln joined in.
"But she's a reasonable woman...sometimes. She just wants to make sure you learn from your mistakes and that you don't repeat them." I continued.
I pull out a switchblade. Lincoln then yanks down Chester's pants.
"So we're gonna cut off the problem from the source"
Then I took off his underwear and was ready...when I saw some work had already been done. His dick was there and nothing else. We glanced at each other then back at our captive.
"Umm...what's wrong with this picture here Chester? Didn't think we'd be beaten to the punch. Care to elaborate? "
"Please..."
"Speak up."
"Do...whatever you're going to do."
"That was the plan until we found out we were a little late. Now all of us are curious"
"Go to hell."
I slapped him with the back of my hand. Gave him a moment to recover, then kicked him in the chest with enough force to knock him backwards to the ground. Let him have a few seconds to spit some blood.
"Well?"
"What does...what does it matters. You'll kill me anyway."
"Naw, we ain't gonna kill you. Right guys?"
"Nope"
"Not that I know of."
"Can't say it's why I got out of bed this morning."
"You see Chester?" I said. "Marquez just gave orders to fuck you up a little."
I showed his family photo again.
"She didn't mention anything about them though."
Chester let out a sigh of defeat. He shut his eyes as a tear ran down his face.
"Okay." He whispered.
"Come again?"
"You win."
"I know I won. I'm waiting on the fucking prize."
"I...sold them."
"You serious?" Hamilton sounded surprised. Shit, to be honest we were all thrown in for a loop.
"And why would you do that?"
"For my family."
"Huh. The times are more fucked up then I thought if you need to sale your body parts."
"Didn't see that coming" How much?" Jackson asked.
"$3,000."
"Per nut?"
"Total."
"Damn man. You either got ripped the fuck off or they smaller then I thought. I would've got $50,000. Each."
"$75,000 for mine." Hamilton said grabbing his crotch.
"You'd only get that if you sold all the hair off'em as a weave for the other $74,000."
There was a soft chuckling that I know pissed Hamilton off. He was about to step toward Jackson but then we saw it was really coming from Chester.
"Sounds like mine have greater value than yours." He said.
"Shit we forgot about you for a second." Hamilton responded pulling him out of his chair.
That's when we let it rain on him: Punches to the head, kicks to his back and stomach. Non-stop for almost half an hour. He was still breathing afterwards, but not moving. Jackson removed the handcuffs and put them in his pocket, which made me frown at him.
"I got a date in a few hours and I'd want to use these. Besides Mr. Gone-without-his-nuts doesn't need'em.
"Let's just dump him already." Lincoln said.
"Whoa whoa hold up. America's Next Top Model's about to come on. We'll do it after. I said.
"The hell y'all see in them pick-up sticks." Jackson complained. "They're so goddamn skinny, when you try and stick your dick in them, you probably break'em in two."
"Better than those water balloons you be with. So fucking thick and hungry all the time, I'd be scared to stick it in because I might not see my dick again." I replied.
That cracked up Lincoln and Hamilton. Jackson flipped us the bird before turning to leave.
"I'll leave you to your poor man's porn."
"Help...please...god..."
"Would you kindly shut the fuck up. Trying to watch the show."
The three of us were laid back on the couch, each with a cold beer. Watching the idiot box waiting for our favorite models to take the stage. The exercise was about a photo shot where they choose whatever career they hope to have but were too stupid to think they would really get. Most of them anyway. The most realistic was the Housewife. But with the red white plaid dress that almost came up to her crack, the red pumps and the blonde French briad ponytail, she turned Housewife into Housewhore.
"I need a doctor...please somebody..."
"Lincoln turn the volume down back there would you." I said.
"But my girl's about to come up."
"Then stop wasting time."
He rolled his eyes before picking himself up rushing his way to nutless. I didn't care. I was the top guy here and this is one of the perks. Heard two or three hits land followed by some coughing before Lincoln sat back down. His chick was a fitness trainer wearing a pink tank top and black skin-tight shorts. She had a rack on her but was too slim to have enough figure for an ass or even some nice legs.
"Shack that ass baby!" Lincoln said excitedly.
"What ass?" Hamilton objected. "In fact she so skinny I'm shocked her tits don't pull her to the ground."
"Your saying you wouldn't fuck that?"
"The tits are all I see worth fucking."
"What about her face?"
"She got braces! Where's the appeal? Or will I find it at the bottom of my drink."
"To each man's own." A voice said.
Everybody turned around. Lincoln even jumped to his feet...or tried to. Something smashed and splattered over his head and he dropped like a brick. Whatever it was that hit him sprayed a little in my face. It happen so fast but I think it was wood. I didn't have time to wipe my eyes because next the couch was forced backwards, laying me on my back. Hamilton was also on his back, trying to reach his piece when somebody's foot stomped on his face. I rolled backwards to my feet, using one hand to wipe my eyes and the other to get my gun. Took a blow to the neck that made me drop it and kneel. A pair of hands grabs the back of my suit while I'm trying to recover, pulls me up and shoves me head first into the TV.
Something wet and warm was hitting my face. It moved to the right of me then the left, and back on me again. I tried to ignore it but it kept hitting my eyes. Finally it stopped, but I was greeted by a throbbing pain in my nose. Tried rubbing it, only to find I couldn't move my arms. I looked and saw I was shackled to the wall, with Washington and Lincoln on both sides of me, shackled. In front of us was Chester, standing sideways peeing on the floor.
"You just fucking pissed on us!?" Washington started but then began coughing.
He tried yelling more but kept coughing instead. There were shards of glass in his face, then I saw the hole in the TV where the glass belonged. Chester zipped up and walked around the now lit basement, moving past the couch where pieces of the chair we had him in laid on. Probably what he hit Lincoln with. He was checking all the tools we used for malpractice: Different kinds of knifes, a few scalpels, aluminum bat, couple of hammers, one sledgehammer and a chainsaw. There was a way he was stroking his hand arcross them that made me uneasy. It was like he was reminiscing over each one. What was really bugging the hell out of me was how he carried himself. We spent a good twenty or so minutes beating the shit out of this guy: One eye closed shut, broken nose, busted face, some broken ribbs for sure, but he was walking around like he owned the place.
"If you have a fucking clue what's good for you, let us go before you dig a big enough hole your family can't climb out of!" Washington finally caught his breath. Chester ignored the threats, still eyeing the tools.
"I know you hear me! If you want a chance in hell of living though this, don't even think about touching that shit! And be thankful we weren't planning on using it.!"
"Really?" He responded while walking toward us with a knife in hand.
"You got caught stealing the boss. Her orders are too rough you up. End this now and it stops here."
"And you President Hamilton?" He asked me while stroking my face with the side of the blade.
"Nothing more than a beat down. We just brought you here 'cause it's quiet. Be smart about this Chester. You touch us your life is over."
I spoke as cool and calm as possible. Times like these you never show fear, it's a weakness.
"President Lincoln. You can verify this as well?"
"I give you my word."
"Are you sure?"
"I swear on my mother's grave. That thing about cutting off your balls was just for effect."
"Well...That's disappointing." Chester said dropping the knife.
"Say what?"
"From an organization with your status, I had hoped there would be more."
"Let's us loose and we be happy to oblige." Washington said.
"The chance has come and gone. Gave you plenty of time. Now it's my turn."
"Marquez is gonna show you a whole new fucking world of-
I swear at the speed of goddamn lighting, Chester slammed his hand on Washington's neck. No, his fingers were buried in there, blood running down them! Washington bit down on his tongue while gagging, eyes bulging. It lasted about five seconds before Chester ripped his throat out. I don't even think knew what was happening. Yelling one minute then choking and bleeding to death the next. What I saw next was even worse. He started fucking eating what he ripped out!
"What kind of sick fuck are you!?" Lincoln took the words out of my mouth. "You just killed...ain't fucking way your-
"Shut up" I shouted.
"Your telling me to shut up? You see what fuck-
"I said shut it! I'm next in rank so fall in fucking line!"
I didn't see much reason to piss Chester off. He was in control and it didn't mean jackshit if we like or not. But we're still alive so there had to be a chance. Afterwards Lincoln and I will gladly give this cocksuker what he deserves. By now I guess there's not much point going on with the president names. But what can I say? I'm came up in the era of if you got caught, you always keep your mouth shut. Call it a old habit but I rather not give out names, even if Chester already knew them.
"You know who we work for,so you know we got money" Name your price."
This whole time he was still chawing down and paid no attention to us until he finished.
"I apologize. Haven't eating anything all day. Needed something to hold me over until the main course."
"Are you saying..."
"No. I can wait until I catch up with President Jackson."
Something hits me then: Jackson took off the handcuffs. Was he in on this shit? As if he knew what I was thinking, Chester then showed a nasty cut on his left wrist that had stiches. He ripped them out and dug into the open wound, pulling out a tiny razorblade and a thin piece of a metal wire as long as my index finger.
"One for if you restrained me with rope. The other for cuffs. But this turned out easier than I expected when Jackson removed the cuffs. Still it's always better to have and not need, then to need and not have."
He was getting creeper by the minute.
"So why?" I dreaded having to ask.
"The short answer to your question is I enjoy it." He replied putting away his escape kit.
"You got your rocks off on us kicking the fuck outta you?" Lincoln asked.
"I wouldn't put that way, but yes."
"What are you - part of some fucked S&M club?"
"Those places are overrated, child's play. Not willing to go the distance. Also I like being both slave and master. Few people in the world are that...optimistic."
"$10 million. You'll have it by the end of the week." I said trying to hide my desperation.
"These tools you have here are effective but basic. If I had to guess I say you got these from the same hardware store. Nothing's wrong with that just doesn't show much creativity"
As he spoke he moved in front of the dead president, searching the pockets until he found his wallet. He took out a small clear bottle and tossed the wallet. It's strange: this room is full of shit I pry would never be used on me. but right now I was more scared of a bottle as big as my thumb.
" You can find inspiration almost anywhere. Take America's Next Top Model for example: you know what those women go through to keep their shape?"
"Diet and exercise, what else." Lincoln said.
"Bulimarexia."
He popped open the lid and brought it to my face. I tried shutting my mouth and moving my head side to side. He placed his hand on my Adam's apple and slowly squeezed until I was gasping. A drop or two went down my throat then he let go and stepped back. I felt a brief sting and suddenly throw up. Could barely hear what he was saying over my own noise.
"Ipecac. Sometimes used by undercover operatives. This comes in handy if they want to give the impression of being drunk. It will make you puke on cue, although it only works once in one setting. I manage to spice it up for repeated use. Hope it works."
I spit what vomit I had left at him. The fucker didn't seem to care.
" That very show of yours gave the idea to try it out. This would sale like hot cakes for models."
He repeated the process with Lincoln and then me again, back and forth. Kept forcing us to drink that shit until my throat was sour. I let the tears roll down my cheeks as he made me puke non-stop, getting weaker and weaker by the second. Must 've barfed up two days' worth of food. Can't tell how much time passed, but finally a miracle happened. I started choking on my own vomit. Lincoln was bagging for it to stop, crying like a baby. In any other case I'd call him a pussy. But now I can't blame him. All I could do was hope he's gets as lucky as I am.