They say in hotels, just like space, no one can hear you scream. Oddly enough, even as intelligent as he was, Jack didn't care. He screamed his lungs out. He'd had a tough day. The firing codes worked, but they didn't work on the battleship he'd spent ages tracking down. They only worked at ATLAS Command, and he had no clue as to where to even start looking. His favourite knife got bent as he pulled it out of the taxi driver's back. His hotel hadn't included the mandatory free bible that they were supposed to by law. The young woman he'd tried to rape cried to much, and he'd had to snap her neck. He'd spilt ketchup on his favourite shirt. The wine he'd bought was of poor quality, and so was the bottle, as he discovered as he smashed in the head of the shopkeeper. The church had been burnt down, and even though he'd found the people who'd done it and stuck them on meat hooks (Through the left shoulder, as was his tradition), it hadn't satisfied him. He'd found out that all TV networks had stopped broadcasting re-runs of Cheers centuries ago. He'd found his first grey hairs. He couldn't find any music by Guns and Roses anywhere.
An hour later, he was sitting in the armchair in his room, putting up his feet, sipping what was left of his coffee. It hadn't been a good day, but since his coffee, he'd decided to enjoy what was left He looked around his room. Maps were strewn over the table, the window was smashed, and the coffee machine had been torn out of the wall, along with the surrounding wallpaper. His favourite knife, clean and fixed, was resting in its sheath, hanging on the cupboard doorknob. A hotel assistant, covered in blood and hanging from the wall by his left shoulder, was dripping onto the carpet. He didn't want to do it, but he hadn't asked for decaf. He HATED decaf. Finally, the lovely, young, beautiful assistant who'd brought him this King of coffees, was naked, bound and gagged on the bed. He'd raped her twice, feeling himself rush into her. It would have been pleasant, if it weren't for her persistent whimpering. She had succulent breasts, and it had been fun to play with them. Before the clerk had died, he'd gotten him to help, fulfilling a few of his fantasies and whatnot. Still, he was bored now. He looked at the viagra on the desk, given to him free of charge by the hotel, and then back at the assistant. Hell, he thought, third time lucky.
Another hour later, he washed his hands. She'd been real horny after all, the little minx. She was scared when he forced her to take the viagra, whimpering, even, but afterwards, he could see the effect it had on her. He'd made sure no one was around before he removed the gag. He'd told her, in no uncertain terms, it would be much worse if she screamed for help. After she took it, on the other hand, she became a right tease. He didn't know a woman that young would know all those positions. She screamed for him, wanted more! When she finally climaxed, she went to sleep, and woke up riding him. Those things she was made to do…she was still crying now. He'd had more goes on her, and each time she gave him more pleasure. Jack sighed. Today had started badly, and had ended quite well. He looked over at his clock. Time to go. He took the recording he'd made of them together, leaving her a copy with his voice changed and his face blocked out, and went off to meet his appointment, the woman still whimpering on the bed. He probably should have killed her, he thought as he left the hotel, but she wouldn't be able to remember his features. None of them ever did.
The last straw was when the machine in his room wouldn't give him ANY SODDING COFFEE! He tore the machine out of the wall in a fit of rage, throwing it out the window. He tried to calm down as the sounds of screams and crashes reached his ears, but it did no good. He picked up his phone to make a complaint, and to tell them he would not be recommending this hotel to any of his friends of family. The thought brought a smile to his face, if only for a second, before his mood set in again.
He really needed his coffee.
An hour later, he was sitting in the armchair in his room, putting up his feet, sipping what was left of his coffee. It hadn't been a good day, but since his coffee, he'd decided to enjoy what was left He looked around his room. Maps were strewn over the table, the window was smashed, and the coffee machine had been torn out of the wall, along with the surrounding wallpaper. His favourite knife, clean and fixed, was resting in its sheath, hanging on the cupboard doorknob. A hotel assistant, covered in blood and hanging from the wall by his left shoulder, was dripping onto the carpet. He didn't want to do it, but he hadn't asked for decaf. He HATED decaf. Finally, the lovely, young, beautiful assistant who'd brought him this King of coffees, was naked, bound and gagged on the bed. He'd raped her twice, feeling himself rush into her. It would have been pleasant, if it weren't for her persistent whimpering. She had succulent breasts, and it had been fun to play with them. Before the clerk had died, he'd gotten him to help, fulfilling a few of his fantasies and whatnot. Still, he was bored now. He looked at the viagra on the desk, given to him free of charge by the hotel, and then back at the assistant. Hell, he thought, third time lucky.
Another hour later, he washed his hands. She'd been real horny after all, the little minx. She was scared when he forced her to take the viagra, whimpering, even, but afterwards, he could see the effect it had on her. He'd made sure no one was around before he removed the gag. He'd told her, in no uncertain terms, it would be much worse if she screamed for help. After she took it, on the other hand, she became a right tease. He didn't know a woman that young would know all those positions. She screamed for him, wanted more! When she finally climaxed, she went to sleep, and woke up riding him. Those things she was made to do…she was still crying now. He'd had more goes on her, and each time she gave him more pleasure. Jack sighed. Today had started badly, and had ended quite well. He looked over at his clock. Time to go. He took the recording he'd made of them together, leaving her a copy with his voice changed and his face blocked out, and went off to meet his appointment, the woman still whimpering on the bed. He probably should have killed her, he thought as he left the hotel, but she wouldn't be able to remember his features. None of them ever did.
