CHAPTER 72: BY DEMONS BE DRIVEN, PART 3
The Green Eye has been pushed beyond all limits of human emotion, brought to the depths of desperation and despair from the trials that Hellwood offers him and all citizens in it. Trying to right the wrongs of this city of the damned, he has fought with every breath of his body, running from his own inner torment and issues, particularly those with the woman he loves, and driving himself to exhaustion.
Pushing himself beyond all limits of human physical feats, he has put himself just a mere step away from death, digging himself a lonely place of dying in the streets of Hellwood in his continuous attempt to save the city from itself. Not eating, drinking, or sleeping for 3 days, beating endless enemies senseless and expending all the energy in his body, there was surely no one to come and save him now...
...or so it seemed, until he came to in a place he had never seen before.
Feeling a plastic cup pressed against his mouth, a liquid running out of it and against his lips, the Green Eye allowed it to come into his mouth by opening it. Recognizing the crisp and refreshing taste of water fill his gums, he chugged down the water with haste, allowing his body to receive its much-needed hydration.
As his sense of taste had been given its feeding, his sense of sight required it be next. Slowly beginning to open his eyes, they are given a healthy dosage of light, illuminating the area and surroundings that make up his current location. Upon trying to get up from where he sat, the Green Eye found that his arms and legs were of no use, but his neck still was, allowing him to observe the area.
His eyesight, too blurry to clearly discern any specific details, only managed to detect the light at first, but this blinding sight soon became a clearer and full sense of vision. His location appeared to be that of a small home theater, with a projector behind him and a screen in front of him, ready for a moving image to be projected onto it.
More concerning than the strange location of a home theater, however, was the sight of the Freak sitting before him, leaning on a chair towards him.
"Hi there." The Freak said.
Seeing the threat before him, the Green Eye's hazy wake turned to a sudden snap to focus, calling him to action to deal with the enemy sitting in front of him. Struggling to get himself out of his chair, he looked down to see the reason why they had no use earlier: His arms and legs were tightly taped to the chair he was sitting in, making him unable to move or escape.
"Relax. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have tied you up and nourished you back in working shape again." The Freak said.
"Where are we?" Green Eye asked.
"Quigley Stadium. Some kind of corporate room, used for meetings."
The Freak continued to stare at the Green Eye, carefully observing him as he remained bonded to the chair, unable to move.
"I remember you said you were born in San Lorenzo. Am I right?" The Freak asked.
"Right." Green Eye said.
"Where exactly?"
"Some kind of old temple. Near the Volcán Terriblé. What does it matter?"
"I remember when I joined you back a few years ago? When we first went back to San Lorenzo to get your parents?"
The question gave the Green Eye a brief reminder of the tragic deaths of both his parents, but still answered his captor's question with simplicity.
"I remember." Green Eye said.
"So do I. It was a sight to behold when I first saw the jungles of San Lorenzo. The lush and green in your eyes, the plants and animals roaming and living on, the warm, humid air like a second skin against your own. It was like heaven had come and fell on Earth in the form of a jungle. You lived down there for 5 years, you know it best, don't you?" The Freak asked.
"I do."
"Yes. You lived among the Green Eyes and their kind, still in some form of civilization, but did you ever stop to think about the animals still in the jungle? Roaming about wherever they want? Taking and killing as they please? Being the kings of their kingdom?"
"What's your point? That people are just like animals deep down? The point's been made time and time again. It's never been proven right."
"It's absolutely right. That's why it's been made time and time again. This place has been the best example of that there is."
"Then why are people still standing together instead of turning their backs on each other?"
The Freak gave a snicker at the Green Eye's question, mocking his very inquiry as juvenile.
"You still don't get it, then. That's not how animals work. They don't all exist as total individualists. They always band together. There's always a pack or a family that they stick to, somewhere that they can feel protected and safe, and never do they turn their backs on that group unless they want to be cast out and hated. All alone and forced to fend for themselves. To be lone wolves." The Freak said.
"Groups of humans don't kill for fun." Green Eye said.
"They don't. They kill for need. Again, I thought Hellwood would've made that more than clear for you. They kill because they need something from the enemy, and the enemy supposedly has it. They find ways to connect with one another, and they form groups based on those similarities. Those who don't conform to those similarities break off and divide themselves from the group. They make enemies out of one another based on those differences. They become opposites of each other based on nothing more than silly little differences. That's how the factions start. You saw that firsthand with Willie, Wolfgang, and Lila. But then there's the occasional lone wolf. Someone who dislikes all sides and goes his own way, never joining any group or starting his own."
"Let me guess. That's supposed to be you."
"No. That's you."
Not understanding what the Freak was trying to convey, the Green Eye grew confused, his face displaying that emotion in full.
"What?" Green Eye asked.
"Isn't it obvious? All this time, you've been fighting everyone and everything in all of Hellwood, all part of your own little one-man war on pain, as you call it. You've fought almost everyone to get your way: Your enemies, your friends, even your family. You've got nobody left now. You're a lone wolf." The Freak said.
"That's not true! I still have Helga."
"Really? Then what was with that whole episode of walking out on her just so you could beat the shit out of some people? You wouldn't even say a word to her. You've been flip-flopping on your relationship so many times, unable to make things work right, and I thought Helga was the one with problems. You just can't seem to get things right, can you?"
The Green Eye could not bring himself to reply, only grunting in anger.
"And back on the subject of you kicking ass, that's once again you fighting everyone you run into. Anyone who disagrees with you, you have to take them down if they don't subscribe to your particular little view on humanity. Even those who would otherwise follow you." The Freak said.
"I'm fighting bad people. I'm trying to set things right." Green Eye said.
"Who gets to decide what 'right' is? In this place, there's no rule of law anymore. No one who gets to determine it for everyone. No ruling body to represent everyone else. The gangs and communities that came after just had to come up with their own versions of 'right' and 'wrong'. They just happen to have the power of numbers on their side."
"A majority doesn't put you in the right."
"Neither does a minority. What makes you so special?"
"Because I was given the best course for humanity by people who knew best."
"And how are you so sure that they knew best? They lived in the jungle in isolation from the rest of the world. Do you really believe that they know what's best for the human race when they've spent so much time away from it?"
"They know more than you'll ever know, Curly. They gave me the right path when I needed it."
"Is that really what you believe, or is it just what Luz told you?"
Once again, the Green Eye found himself unable to answer, giving out another grunt of frustration.
"Hellwood has shown what human beings really are at their core. The place which you call the modern world, the whole idea of peace that you have in your mind, it's all based on fallible concepts and materials that make your idea of peace little more than a house of cards. You take all that away, and it all comes crashing down. Dog eat dog. That's how we are." The Freak said.
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to make things better." Green Eye said.
"What's the point of trying to make things better? In spite of everything you do to make things right, how much you try to build things up, it'll all eventually come crashing down. Why bother?"
"Because it's the right thing to do. It's what I believe in."
"Oh, yes, of course. You still hold on to that silly little notion that you can heal and save anybody. You thought you could save Willie, even though he ate babies and children alive. You thought you could save Wolfgang, even though he murdered anyone not white as hell. You thought you could save Lila, even though she liked having little boy cock balls-deep in her."
The Freak leaned in closer to the Green Eye, laying a hand over his face to caress it.
"And, even after all we've been through... you still think you can save me, can't you?" The Freak asked.
"If this is an attempt to make me kill you, you can spare me now. There's nothing you can say or do that will change my mind." Green Eye said.
"Well, we'll see about that, won't we? How about we take a look at one of my little 'home movies'?"
Moving his chair next to the Green Eye, the Freak prepared himself a seat next to him, but not before retrieving another item for his needs.
"Oh, just in case you feel the need to close your eyes, I've brought along a couple of helpers to ensure you won't miss anything." The Freak said.
Returning to the Green Eye with a pair of fish hooks, the Freak leaned in close to his guest's face, bringing a fish hook in close contact with his eye. Not liking what laid in wait for him with the oncoming fish hook, the Green Eye tried to pull himself away, but was unable to do so in his restrained state.
Grabbing his head to keep it still, the Freak dug a fish hook underneath one of the eyelids of the Green Eye, sending pain through his body and making him scream under the torture. Having caught the eyelid on the fish hook where it would not move, he then dug it into the skin just above the eye, keeping the eyelid secure and the eye it was meant to protect uncovered.
Taking another fish hook in his hand, he repeated the process with the other eye; the process taking its agonizing time just like the first time around. The Freak, having made his guest left unable to close his eyes for any reason, sat beside him, making himself comfortable in his own seat.
"That's better. Now, let's get this show started, shall we?" The Freak asked.
Taking out a remote control, the Freak activated a projector, causing a video to be sent to the blank sheet set in front of them. The video feed started to show blank footage at first, projecting but a black screen, but, upon waiting patiently, the substance of the video began to show.
The video began with a crude way of showing the title, with the Freak holding up a title card that read 'FEAR AND LOATHING IN HELLWOOD: A JOURNEY INTO FINDING THE CURE FOR THE HUMAN CONDITION'. Tossing the card away, the Freak showed another one that read: 'STARRING: THE FREAK, SUPPORTING ACTOR: WESTON, SPECIAL APPEARANCE: DR. PEYTON HARVEY SCOTT'.
The video then cut to a shot of the Freak walking down the streets of Hellwood, providing an introduction to the film.
"Hello, suckers of Hellwood! It is I, the vile and pernicious Freak here. Recently, I've been in contact with an otherworldly being, something you might go so far as to call a god. Whether it's the god or just one out of a hundred, I don't know. But, fact of the matter is, he told me something very important, regarding the future, and where humanity's heading under his control, and how it can't be stopped. It was all really interesting, the whole satori thing he was going for, but it's not worth going into here. What I wanna know is what he didn't tell me: Where I fit into that little story of his. I wanted to know more. So, to make sure we get to pay him a little visit again, I need to go deeper into the same method of how I got to him the first time. And, at the same time, I can hopefully teach our faithful assistant here, Weston, a thing or two about leaving the concept of humanity itself behind. Weston, here, give me the camera, say hello to the good people here." The Freak said.
Walking up to the camera and taking it, the Freak pointed it to its former holder: Weston, former assistant to 'Little' Nicky.
"Um, yes, hello. I'm... I'm Weston." Weston said.
"Good boy. Now, how about we start off our session right with some good ol' cocaine?" The Freak asked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You know, cocaine. Powdered sugar. Colombian snow. The good stuff. You brought it, didn't you?"
"Well... I did, but... I won't seriously have to partake in this, will I?"
"Oh, yes, you seriously will. C'mere, we'll powder up here."
Setting the camera on a small ledge, the Freak positioned the camera to record him and Weston portioning out the stimulant on an abandoned table, beginning to cut out lines to snort. The Freak, having no hesitation to show, leaned down and snorted a long line, taking in the drug quickly.
Awaiting for his assistant to join in, the Freak gave Weston a stare, expecting him to join him in consuming the drug. Weston, though skeptical and avoidant of any sort of mind-altering substances, leaned in and gave a snort, not wishing to displease his master.
Both taking in their doses, both took their time to process it. Weston, not used to consuming the drug, turned away and began sneezing violently, coughing as he wiped blood from his nose. The Freak, having no negative consequences to speak of, began growing restless and moving his body around in anticipation, with his voice declaring out his need for activity.
"LET'S FUCK! I'LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES!" The Freak shouted.
Letting out a maniacal laugh, the Freak was soon cut away to the progression of the next scene, coming to the inside of a household. When seeing what laid inside the household that the Freak and Weston occupied, the Green Eye quickly realized how terrifying the film was about to get.
Strung up from the ceiling was a naked pregnant teenager, with her father restrained and gagged on a chair just next to her. Weston stood to the side of the scene, but the Freak placed himself right in front of the camera, holding a baseball bat in his hand and letting it tap against his open hand.
"Now, what we've got here is a special kind of scenario. The fresh little meat we've got here is a 6 month pregnant teenager, got herself knocked up before the Fall. The daddy here's been raising her his whole life, no mommy in the picture. Well, ain't he a swell guy?" The Freak asked.
Walking up to the father, the Freak pulled the gag from off his mouth, allowing him to reply to his imminent question.
"So what's it like, raising a pregnant teen all by yourself?" The Freak asked.
"Listen, please, do whatever you want with me, just don't hurt her, please. I'll do anything what you want. Please. Don't hurt her. Please, sir. I'll do anything." The father begged.
"Oh, no. See, we've got a bit of a paradox here. What I want to do to you is make you really suffer and hurt, but I need to hurt her in order to do it." The Freak said.
"N-no! Please, anything you want, just not that. Not that, please!"
"What's the matter? Why do you care about this little cow so much? You make 100 million sperm cells on a daily basis. Your daughter dies, you can just knock someone else up and make another one. I mean, sure, it's a pain in the ass to have to go through the same shit again, but at least you don't have to worry about this one anymore. After all, she went and got herself pregnant on you before she left the bird's nest. Now you're gonna have two mouths to feed. Why have to deal with that now? I could help you start fresh."
"Because I love her. She's my daughter. I love her so much."
"Oh, you love her, do you? Well, I think we can make something else work. C'mere."
Dragging the chair up to place the man before his pregnant daughter, the Freak pulled down the father's pants, making both parties realize his intentions.
"Weston, you like cock. Get him hard for me." The Freak said.
Reluctant to the command, Weston still followed it through, positioning himself before the father's organ. Unable to offer any sort of apology for his action, Weston took his member and gave it some light strokes, soon putting it in his mouth to stimulate it to an erection.
After properly fluffing the father, Weston stepped away, leaving him with his penis firm and erect to the Freak's needs. Grabbing the daughter's legs in the air, he slowly began positioning her vulva over her father's phallus, readying himself to put it inside. Both parties immediately and strongly protested to the action, with the daughter's voice being gagged and muffled while the father still spoke up.
"No, no, please! Not that! Don't make me do that to my daughter! No! No!" The father pleaded.
Seeming to give in to his victim's pleas, the Freak took the daughter away from the would-be penetration, placing her feet back on the ground to allow her to stand up. Sarcastically feigning ignorance to the reason behind their protests, the Freak thought up a way to 'resolve' the problem.
"Aw, what's the matter? Good-looking guy like you, working hard to bring up your little girl, you deserve a little pussy. Besides, she's gonna be a mommy soon, she's gonna need a man of her own. What better fit than her own father? You worked hard to raise that pussy, you deserve it. Oh, I see the problem. Someone else's taking up the space. Well, allow me to create a vacancy." The Freak said.
Taking his bat in hand, the Freak swung it against the daughter's pregnant belly, bashing her in the womb and severely impacting the fetus within. Screaming in pain from the impact, the daughter's cries led to the father to scream; his yells almost as painful as hers.
Watching the event unfold on the screen, the Green Eye, too, let out screams, feeling the pain of both parties involved in the gruesome act.
"Who remembers that old commercial: 'How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop'? Well, I got a better question: How many hits does it take to perform the world's most painful miscarriage?" The Freak asked.
Taking another swing of the bat, the Freak hit the daughter in the belly again.
"One..." The Freak said.
Taking another swing of the bat, the Freak hit the daughter in the belly again.
"Two..." The Freak said.
Taking another swing of the bat, the Freak hit the daughter in the belly again.
"Brain damage..." The Freak said.
Taking another swing of the bat, the Freak hit the daughter in the belly again.
"Down syndrome..." The Freak said.
Taking another swing of the bat, the Freak hit the daughter in the belly again.
"Spina bifada..." The Freak said.
Taking another swing of the bat, the Freak hit the daughter in the belly again.
After making this hit, the Freak stopped in his action, seeming to take ear of something in the air or have some manner of epiphany. Realizing that what he noticed existed on the astral plane rather than the physical one, he gave a smile, sharing what he discovered for the camera.
"...Death. How many hits does it take? The world may never know." The Freak said.
The daughter, nearly exhausted from all the pain she was put through, let out pained groans under her shallow breath from the beating. The father, still powerless to do anything to stop the violence, could do nothing more than cry from the horror he had just witnessed.
In the present time, the reaction of the Green Eye was not so different.
The Freak, however, was not content with the simple beating of the pregnant teenager. Discarding his baseball bat, he walked off-camera to retrieve another item, coming back with a chainsaw. Revving up the chainsaw and starting it, letting the tool stall and stutter, the father and daughter began screaming again from what would come next.
"Now, how about we see the fruits of our labor?" The Freak asked.
Taking the chainsaw to the daughter's midsection, the Freak pulled down on lever, running the blades in readiness to cut. Pressing the spinning blades against her body, the chainsaw began cutting through her flesh, organs, and bone, making its way through her.
Feeling all the pain that came with the chainsaw running through her, the daughter's screams communicated the emotional damage being done to her; her vocal chords nearly rupturing under the duress the task they were being forced to carry out. Much of the same could be said about the father, who was screaming hysterically in his seat, desperately trying to get out.
In mere seconds, the father realized that his efforts were for nothing. When the chainsaw had made its way through her, the daughter's lower half of her body plopped to the ground, organs and all other manners of guts falling out of her, along with the incomplete fetus on the ground.
Crying over the death of his daughter and unborn grandchild, the father no longer cared nor tried to fight back, staying seated in his restrained state.
"Aw, what's the matter? I said you can just make another one. Here. I'll help you with that right now. No need to let your little girl go to waste." The Freak said.
Picking up the severed half of the dead daughter, the Freak brought it over to the father's crotch, once again positioning the vulva over him.
"Well, well, well, still hard after all that? You've got some nasty tastes, old man." The Freak joked.
Pushing the severed half of the dead daughter against the father, the Freak began manually stimulating him with the recently deceased vagina, like using her dead body as a compromised fleshlight. Still feeling the physical pleasures of a woman's organs, the father hated every second of his stimulation, crying over the torture being forced on him.
"Aw, what's the matter? You don't love your little girl anymore? You're a real fucking asshole, pal. She's better off without you." The Freak said.
Leaving the half of the dead daughter on him, the Freak retrieved his chainsaw, revving it up once again. Taking it to the head of the father, he began pushing it through his head, cutting through his skull and brains. Pushing it further and further, he eventually ran it past his neck and down into his chest, deciding to deactivate the tool and leave it inside him.
Having finished off his victims, the Freak appeared bored with the sight; a sight that was not shared with Weston. Still keeping himself on the sidelines of the event, he was seen to be vomiting on the floor, emptying all manner of contents in his stomach on to the floor from what he was seeing.
The Freak, retrieving the camera, walked back to his subservient, patting him on the back.
"Hey, now. You doing alright?" The Freak asked.
"Ye-Yes, sir. I'm fine." Weston lied.
"Good. I don't think this coke is doing it. We need to do something else. Get out the heroin."
The scene cut once again to the Freak and Weston walking down the streets of Hellwood, roaming in search for another victim to seek for their violent crimes against. Their trek across the streets seemed to grow lethargic and uncaring; their minds flooded with a false sense of peace from their injections of heroin.
Living up the high of his heroin, the Freak walked down the streets of Hellwood, holding the dead fetus of his past victim by the umbilical and swinging it carelessly.
"Alright, now... I'm feeling like I'm swimming in my own blood... and it's so warm... and I want to just relax in it all day... but part of me wants to swim a goddamn triathlon, too. Probably the cocaine. I feel like sleeping and staying awake at the same time. It's definitely something I'm not used to." The Freak said.
The Freak's narration cut short when something else came into his sight; a victim that he could finally take out his pain onto.
"Hey, hey, Weston! There's one, there! Get him!" The Freak said.
The camera turned to the victim in question, who started running away when he saw the Freak and his accomplice run towards him. Chasing after him, the Freak and Weston eventually caught up with the victim, the former pinning him down to the ground and preventing any escape.
When seeing the face of the victim, however, the Freak no longer felt the urge to do him any harm, recognizing him as a familiar face.
"Hey-hey-hey! Look who it is! Dr. Scott!" The Freak said.
The Freak got off of his former therapist, offering him a helping hand to get off the ground again. Uneasily taking his hand, Dr. Scott got back on his feet again with the help of the Freak, quickly being placed in a hug with the drug-fueled maniac in an unusual show of kindness.
"So, how you been, man? Haven't seen you since the TV show. That shit sucked, by the way. If I didn't kill Yuzna already, I'd probably have to do it again." The Freak said.
"I... Well... Uh... I've just been... roaming around, I suppose... trying to survive. I tried to leave, but I hadn't... I hadn't been able to get out." Dr. Scott said.
"Well, good thing you didn't go anywhere yet. I'm real glad I ran into you today. See, me and my friend Weston here are off on a mission to meet with god himself. Or, at least what I think is god. Think you can give me some help to do that?"
Dr. Scott showed a mixed sense of confusion and fear from the friendly attitude and request from his former patient, unsure what to make of what he was being asked or even how to reply to it. Ultimately, in the name of self-preservation, the good doctor decided to accept the request, knowing it was the only way that he would stay alive.
"Uh... S-sure, sure, Curly. Whatever you say." Dr. Scott said.
"'Whatever I say'. I like that. But you know what I don't like? Being called 'Curly'. That's 'what I say'." The Freak said.
"V-very well... 'The Freak'. What should we do now?"
"I'm glad you asked that, doctor. I think I've got a good idea."
The scene cut away from the previous scenario, moving on to another household with a family of 3: A mother, a father, and a preteen boy. The mother was restrained and bonded, being leaned over on a bed, with the father held down at gunpoint by Weston.
The boy was in the hold of the Freak, having the master of the show putting his hands around his shoulders while giving them a light rub. Having been given a selection of drugs off-screen, the boy appeared to be in a mixed state of both anxiety and boredom; his face and voice displaying no emotion while his body could not stop moving on its own.
"Welcome back, everybody. Today, I've got a nice, young volunteer here with me on another experiment that I'd like to run. I've just made him smoke a whole pipe of crack, made him pop an 'E', and he's hard as a rock and ready to fuck. Now, what's your name, kid? Tell the good people watching this." The Freak said.
"I-I-I don't remember right now. I just feel really bad and really excited at the same time." The boy said.
"Well, that's okay. Names don't really matter right now. See, I need your help with something. Are you starting to feel a little something in your no-no zone? Getting a little hard?"
"Y-yeah. I do."
"Good. You see that hole right between your mommy's legs? That nice, pink one just below her asshole?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that right there is called a pussy. That's where you came from. You grew in there for 9 whole months, all warm and safe and sound and snug as a bug in a rug. Don't you wanna go back where it's nice and safe and warm again? To be somewhere where you can be totally at peace and never have to worry about anything?"
"Yeah."
"Well, there's an easy way to go back in. Pull your pants down."
Following his orders as given, the boy unbuckled his belt and removed his pants and underwear, revealing his young and small erection.
"Now, put that nice, hard cock where it belongs: In your mother's loose, hairy pussy." The Freak said.
Carrying out the order, the boy walked up to his own mother, still under his drug-induced mania of delirium and abscent-mindedness. The mother, unable to call for son not to carry out the act, could give no such pleas to stop other than to give muffled screams against the gag in her mouth.
The father attempted to get up from his place and stop the cruel act, but Weston pressed the gun closer to his head, making him rethink his decision.
Putting his tool against his mother's womb, the boy pressed himself closer inside, beginning to insert himself and re-enter the same hole which gave him life on this Earth. Feeling the first sexual experience in his life, one taboo and filtered through a lens of narcotics, his young, undeveloped mind could barely comprehend the feelings he was receiving, but only knew to continue on his act.
Sitting in the corner, Dr. Scott observed the event with disgust and revulsion, wishing he could intervene to put an end to the horror, but knew he would not be allowed to. The Freak, once again displaying his friendly attitude towards his former therapist, laid a friendly hand upon him.
"Hey, doc, what's the matter? Not enjoying the show? Don't you have some sort of deep psychological analysis on this? Maybe you've got a few things to say about me?" The Freak asked.
"You wouldn't like what I have to say." Dr. Scott said.
"Try me. Actually, no, you're right. Let's not bother with this academic shit. I think we need to make this more fun."
Walking up to Weston, the Freak relieved him of duty of watching the father, escorting him closer to the sight of the son penetrating the mother.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at this poor little bastard. He can't even fuck the cunt-hole he was shat out of properly. Why don't you give your son a little help and show him how to please a woman? After all, what could bring the family closer together like a good, old-fashioned gangbang?" The Freak asked.
"I will do no such thing... you sick piece of shit." The father said.
Grabbing Weston's gun from his hand, the Freak held it to the head of the father, threatening him into carrying out the act.
"It wasn't a fucking request, asshole! I want you to get that cock hard as steel and fuck your own son in the ass while he does your wife right this second, or I'll splatter your brains out and do it myself! Make a choice." The Freak said.
Knowing that his son would suffer through whatever this madman would do to him either way, the father realized in a moment of cowardice that he would still rather live than to die and leave his family behind. Complying with his captor's order, he pulled out his penis, quickly stroking it to erection.
Inserting his phallus into his son's anus, something that the receiver seemed to pay little notice to, the father began thrusting against his son, his movements subsequently moving the son into the mother again as he was entered. Trying to get the affair with, the father thrusted in and out as fast as he could, trying to reach orgasm to remove himself from the source of his abhorrence.
Continuing to watch the pinnacle of perversion take place, the Freak joined back with Dr. Scott, once again asking for his input.
"So, what's your take here, doc? What kind of issues do you think the family's gonna deal with after all this is over?" The Freak asked.
Swallowing his own feelings on the issue, Dr. Scott thought over the possible outcomes from this event, not liking what he was deducing.
"Severe emotional trauma... PTSD... anxiety and sexual disorders... all too many to count from something like this." Dr. Scott said.
"Well, that just makes it all more fun, now, doesn't it? You know, my biggest regret is not doing this with my own parents before I killed 'em. My dad was pretty well-hung, and my mom shaved her cunt. They were really super nice people, not those assholes I thought I knew, so they might've gone for it if I played my cards right."
"You are disgusting."
"Why, thank you, doctor! I've been waiting for you to say something sweet to me like that."
Interrupted by the cries of the father, the Freak turned back to the taboo threesome, finding the son going limp while the father held him in pain. The mother seemed to give out cries of her own, but were too muffled under the gag in her mouth, and no information was spoken regarding why such sorrow was unfolding.
"Hey. What the hell is going on? Did I tell anyone to stop here?" The Freak asked.
"My son... he's dead... he died..." The father cried.
Giving the body of the son a quick scan with his powers, the Freak quickly deduced the reason for his death, giving a smile upon its discovery.
"Oh, now, look at that. He died of a heart attack right as he came. Guess crack and 'X' were just too much for him. Well, guess we're done here." The Freak said.
Taking out his revolver, the Freak aimed it at the father's groin, shooting his genitals and tissue off in one gun blast.
Shoving the barrel into the mother's vagina, the hot barrel of the gun searing the sensitive flesh inside, he pulled the trigger multiple times until he emptied the gun's contents. Each bullet shot through her body, tearing apart vital organs as they traveled through her, killing her nearly instantly. Pulling the gun out of her womb, blood and mutilated tissue seeping out of her.
Bored with the sight behind him, the Freak left the father to bleed out on the floor, his death imminent enough, while putting his focus on the future ahead with more people to torture and kill. Gesturing along Weston and Dr. Scott, he led his two companions on to further his journey.
"Come along, boys, we've got a long ways to go before we find god again. There's plenty more people to hunt and kill, and many different fucked-up ways we can do it." The Freak said.
As the film continued, the Freak of the present time took a bite out of a box of popcorn, enjoying the moving picture he presented for his guest.
"I always love when a movie starts off strong. If it's no good in the beginning, then you've got a long ways to go to build that back up. But even if the rest of the film's no good, if the beginning's good, then beginning's good. Lucky for you, it only gets better from here. Much, much better." The Freak said.
Growing terrified over the visuals forced upon him, the Green Eye struggled desperately to get out of his seat, only to find no luck in doing so; his restraints made tight and secure. The hooks caught in his eyelids made his exposed eyes start to dry, beginning to burn and turn red from the lack of lubricant.
But the physical pain he feels is nowhere near as bad as the mental anguish he endures from watching this film.
"No... No... No, no, no! Please, Curly, turn it off! I can't watch anymore! It's horrible!" Green Eye said.
"Oh, but I've put so much time and money into this project. Why would I want to turn it off?" The Freak asked.
"It's awful! All those people, you... You killed them! You killed them all so... horribly! I can't stand it!"
"Well, that's too bad. I paid good money for this show, and I'm not turning it off. So, for your own sake, sit back and enjoy it. I know I am."
Leaning back in his seat as the film continued to play its course, the Freak relaxed himself to enjoy his own film, reflecting on the effort and time spent to create the film. The Green Eye, conversely, shared no such interest in the film, and desired nothing more than for it to be turned off.
In between forced to view such surreal and brutal acts of violence be committed, all in the name of speaking to some supposed form of a god, while having his eyes hooked open to take it all in, and still facing regret for how his relationship with Helga still remains broken, the Green Eye can only sit and bear the torture more, having no other choice but to endure it until its end.
And that end will not be coming anywhere near soon for the Green Eye.