Part Two: Agent Stone and No-Face

Agent Stone

I pray to God every day I'm here. Some people have said they've spoken to him...I don't doubt it. I know the only reason I don't hear anything from him is because of what I've done. Not even He can forgive me.

As I went through my round of checking on patients they were all in their usual spots: Sweet Tooth standing there in the middle of his cell staring right at me, Doll Face and No Face in each of the respective corners in their cells. The Preacher and Agent Stone both sitting in front of the small crosses they're allowed and praying. I feel no pity for the Preacher; he's just as nutty for as the rest of these guys. Actually, Agent Stone may be the only one here that I feel sorry for.

The poor guy, he was on the police force for nearly ten years, and during most of it he was on SWAT. Some doomsday cult they'd been trying tirelessly to stop had finally been cornered one night. Agent Stone has told me about this, he has no hallucinations and I'm fairly confident everything he says is true. Anyways, the cult had been successfully terrorizing innocent people for weeks and

we'd finally got these guys where we wanted them. I was on the roof across from their building, and the ringleader was walking around yelling into his phone at the negotiator like he had been for the past hour. Why should we negotiate with these bastards? All they'd done was slaughter innocent lives, and now...it was time to pay.

My rage was building up, and I couldn't wait for the signal to go. Payback was going to be brutal. Every second took longer than the last, and I was starting to shake from my anger. All the things they'd done were flashing through my head. All the times I'd been unable to stop them. Now I could, and there was no gettin' away! I was gonna send these bastards to hell where they belong!

"Open fire!"

It's time! I let loose on that dirtbag, and didn't stop til he was half past dead. Afterwards, I felt a lot better. We got 'em. Standard routine made me check around to see if any more were coming to his aid...

and my god...what had I done?

From his anger, he'd been a little too shaky to wield that automatic sniper rifle with enough effectiveness. Turns out, a few of his stray bullets caught a couple of the hostages. It was a mother and her daughter...Stone told me she couldn't have been more than eight years old. When I checked the records out of curiosity, she'd turned eight about three months before that. That was really when my pity for him developed.

I stared in some grotesque mutated form of horror. Half of it was I couldn't believe my shots had gone that far off, the other half was of what had been the consequences of my emotions. The mother and daughter were lying in a pool of their own pure blood. It struck me that they were dead when I saw the girl's toy. A little bear, now soaked in her blood just as she was. Like some cannibalistic ewok. I screamed.

From there, the SWAT took care of the rest of the guys and found out what had happened. When they went to the roof across from there, they were looking for Stone. What they found was some shell casings and that's it.

I'd hidden a few roofs away, the searchlight from the chopper was shining in fluorescent fashion outside of my spot. There was no turning back. I couldn't help the two innocent people I had killed. Nothing could save me now. Only one option was left to me.

I put the barrel of my rifle into my mouth, prepared to right my wrong as best as I could. It wasn't enough, but at least I wouldn't have to live with the guilt. My finger was trembling on the trigger and sweat was virtually pouring down my head. As a tear slipped out of my eye, I pulled that trigger.

And all I got...was a click.

I'm not sure whether it was a good or bad thing, but he'd been out of ammo. When SWAT found him he was just laying there crying and telling them to kill him because he didn't deserve to live. I'll always remember the way he told me about how it went though..."There was only one way out left...but that way was closed..."

I close my eyes again. I know I shouldn't be forgiven, but I wish for it anyways. There had never been any intent for that to happen. Redemption wasn't a thing I could simply wish for...and God had forgotten me.

No-Face

Once you been in here long enough, it stops mattering how far time has gone. When you've been the way Ihave long enough...you get kind of glad you're locked away from the rest of the world. My name is Frank and I was put in here after a little malpractice on the part of a doctor. Doctor. Can I even call him that? After what he's done? No, a doctor is someone who helps people. Not someone who does the thing he did.

I was a boxer, you woulda never heard of me, but I enjoyed it and sometimes I did pretty good. But one night a real tough guy from outta state fought me. He knocked me out in the first round and beat the daylights outta me to do it. It wasn't a one punch deal. He beat me to a pulp before I finally went down. My jaw was shattered and my nose was broken. As you can imagine, I wasn't lookin' too good. The doctor I went to right after said I wasn't gonna look good either. I was pretty much disfigured from the fight.

A few of the guys at the gymtold me about this plastic surgeon they knew. The doc wasn't a real successful one apparently, but he was a bigfan of the fights. I figured he'd understand and wouldn't mind operatin' on me. Grey concrete and green moss growing outta the cracks in the walls, a falling apart tile floor and some beat up lighting...that was the office...and the operating room. As he administered my anesthesia I heard him telling me about how he'd bet on a fight. My fight.

"Fifty thousand dollars, Mr. McCutcheon. Fifty thousand dollars I lost on you that night."

Right before I went out, the only thing I could hear was the scraping of his blades...and some blaring opera music he turned on while he worked. If I'd stayed awake, that music woulda probably given me a headache.

Speakin' of headaches, when I woke up my face hurt ten times worse than it did the night I got beat by the outta-state guy. It was real bad. When I tried to open my eyes...I couldn't. When I tried to ask why I couldn't see...my mouth wouldn't move. I touched my face with my hands...and realized what he did to me.

The doc sewed my eyes and mouth shut, and probably gave me a good beating in the face with something because god damn did it hurt. When I touched my eyelids they gave in. He'd cut out my freakin' eyes! And...and my tongue, too. No wonder I felt so nasty. I stumbled out of his room and went through the other parts of the hospital... I had been tryin' to find him, I guess. I don't really remember what I was thinkin' at that point. All I know is that I wanted to rip that doc's head off. The fear I was feelin', and the pain I was fightin' drove me to a point of heightened strength. I couldn't smell or taste anything obviously and I couldn't see anymore, but I could sure as hell hear. That was enough for me to find him. Well, I thought found him.

I beat him to death right there. Punch after punch. It only took about thirty seconds or so...some other guy saw it and started screamin'...so I went after him, too. I ended up killin' six innocent people before the cops got there. I feel terrible for what I did, and I know I can't take it back. But don't get me wrong, though. If I got a hold of that doctor and knew it was him...I'd rip that "doctor" to shreds.

A/N: I don't know how fun this is to read but I'm having a blast writing these. So I've been through four characters with a relatively sparse amount of humor...who will be spoofed? Find out next part.