Chapter 8: Evil Rears It's Ugly Head
In the strange high-tech basement of the shrouded figure, loud sounds of drilling and sanding floated about the empty house above.
Over the din of the noise a deep ominous voice stated, "Stop that infernal racket! Someone is approaching!"
The sanding stopped and the figure stepped forward slightly. The door on the far side of the basement slowly creaked open. An aging man wearing a long black trench coat peeked through the crack.
"B-Boss?" he asked, the fear showing through in his voice.
"Yes? Come forward, Elliot."
The man pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside.
"What have you to report?" asked the hidden figure.
"Well, sir, I-uh-gots good news and I gots bad news," he said, twiddling his fingers.
"I am in a good mood, Elliot. Do not put me in a bad one."
"I'll try, sir. Um... w-well the good news is I found that other car you was lookin' for."
"Aaaannd?"
"The b-bad news is... *gulp* ...I sorta... let someone take it, and now that Foundation has it," he cringed waiting to be hit, but the strike never came. He heard the breathing of his leader increase dramatically and with each breath he exhaled, he growled.
"You... what!?!"
Elliot spread his hands apologetically, "I'm sorry, boss! The girl hit me! She beat me up! I was no match for her!"
"You fool!" he screamed, "Who took it?!"
"Some lady. Name's Kelly or something."
"Where does she live?"
"A few miles from the junk yard, in the woods. But she's not there any more. She followed a couple of those T.K.R. people in the black car."
"How could you allow the car we needed to be taken by a woman?!" the man said, getting back on the subject of betrayal.
"I thought she was hot, so I let her beat me up!" Elliot clapped his hand to his mouth. "Oops."
The shrouded figure stepped into the light. He wore a dirty white tank top and torn greasy jeans. His light gray eyes sparkled with anger. The muscles in his arms and neck were bulging and his veins looked like they'd pop out of his skin. His fingers were balled into a fist and when he spoke he sounded like a man possessed.
"How dare you talk back to me!" he roared. "You are becoming more of a burden than you are worth!"
"Then DO something about it," came a deep voice from nowhere.
"Yes," the muscular man said calmly, but his eyes were still wildly staring at Elliot. "I think I will." He reached down and picked up the cordless drill he had used on the car body he was rebuilding.
"N-now boss! Please! Don't do nothin' you'd regret!" Elliot pleaded.
"Trust me... I won't." He began to laugh while he backed Elliot through the door he had entered. The door slammed behind them and from the other side came the muffled sounds of screams and the drill drilling through bone. After a few minutes the screaming died down and finally stopped. The door opened and the man stepped into the basement, blood dripping from the drill bit and splashed all over his clothes. He walked over to the dismantled body of the car and began to drill a hole where a bolt was to be placed. He grinned happily as the bit dug deeper and deeper into the metal and spun blood across the primer painted body.