Chase opened his eyes, blinking under the bright lights. The room was very similar to the one where Jack had been held, with sterile white walls and the temperature chilly. As feared, he found himself naked, held fast at wrist and ankle by metal cuffs to a metal autopsy table. The last thing he remembered was Mac's laughter cut off by the shotgun blast, a stabbing pain as he was injected in the neck.

Turning his head he saw Liz watching him, her eyes feral in the artificial light. "Don't look so worried Chase, I gave you some medicine to counteract the arsenic, I'm sure you'll agree you're feeling better.

Smiling smugly, she continued, "Now, you may have noticed I haven't sewn your mouth closed. Two reasons. One, you may still feel a bit nauseas and I don't want you to suffocate if you vomit. Two, this is going to be painful, very painful and I want to hear you scream. It's my favourite lullaby."

Striking quickly, Liz reached out and pulled his face around, digging her nails in until his eyes met hers. "Listen to me Chase," she hissed. "You close your eyes or turn away from me again and I'll stitch your eyes wide open. I want to see your fear, to feel and hear your pain, to experience every exquisite detail."

"Why?" he asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why?" Liz mocked, "Why not? ... perhaps it's that you killed the Major, or maybe it was the Dan's death that upset me. Daddy and I were rather keen on Dan for our threesomes... or it could be that I just want to goad Jack.. or possibly it's merely because I enjoy pain, and you're available. As I said, why not?"

"You're crazy... insane."

"Name calling won't help you... but I believe my correct title is 'psychopathic sexual sadist', I Googled my... interests." she laughed.

"You won't get away, they'll find you. Jack will find you."

"No he won't, this place is untraceable. Jack will never know what becomes of you... not unless I send him your head in a box, so don't waste your prayers on there being a last minute rescue, not this time."

Chase could hear Liz laying out equipment on a metal tray behind him and he flinched when Liz's chilled hand ghosted over his shoulder. He was determined not to feed her madness and he vowed he would remain silent. "Here," she whispered, almost kindly. "Let's just adjust this, why don't we," and Chase felt despair as his temples were squeezed tight between the arms of a padded vice.

"Don't struggle now," Liz warned. This is just for your protection so you don't strain anything. This is going to hurt and I don't want you thrashing about... now Chase, do you know that arsenic poisoning makes you hypotensive? You are now experiencing very, very low blood pressure. So if, for example, I was to cut you, it would take you much longer to bleed out than usual. Which is wonderful, as I can now do something I've been wanting to do for a very long time."

Picking up her scalpel, Liz leaned over Chase, "Don't you want to know what it is?, aren't you just dying of curiosity?" she laughed.

Closing his eyes, Chase remained silent, refusing to talk. Liz stabbed the scalpel into his shoulder, drawing blood. "Eye's open, remember!"

Sucking up the blood, licking around the wound for every drop, her eyes were bright with her arousal. Moving to stand behind the table Liz ran her hands across his shoulders, down his arms as far as she could reach, then languidly drew her finger tips up and across his abs to swirl around his nipples and back to his shoulders, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. She continued to run her fingers over his skin, probing, tracing the muscle, and Chase could feel the nausea rising again, his whole body rebelling against her touch.

"You have great muscle tone Chase, you obviously exercise a great deal, but not so much in the weight room. Your muscles are elongated, built for endurance... I'd say mainly running and swimming, am I right?"

The silence was broken by the tap-tap-tap of the scalpel against the metal table. "Yes," he eventually replied.

"Well I do admire your muscle tone Chase. But I want to see your muscles in action, in the raw so to speak." Picking up her scalpel again, she asked, "Do you know what flensing is?"

Panicking, Chase strained against his bonds, his vow of silence now forgotten, "Christ Liz! Please, don't do this, not-"

"Wonderful, I'll take that as a yes," purred Liz. "I do hate having to explain things."

With a quick flick, Liz ran the scalpel up Chase's right arm and then down, the cuts joining at the top to form a triangle which slowly began to seep blood. "See, she crowed, "We don't have to worry about you bleeding to death... fun!"

Taking a firm hold of the top of the triangle she pulled down hard, ripping the skin and a thin layer of fat away, exposing the bicep muscle. Enjoying his screams of pain, Liz ran her fingers over the exposed muscle...