Drake Parker is no one in the eyes of Alluvot high. In love with a little miss Cat Valentine but oh so tragic is her insistence to be with a dorky boy from the theater program named Robbie. He's on the Varsity team with the trio and he's good but no one ever cheers his name. When was the last time anyone got excited that he entered the room?

He's been missing for longer than a year and after three days his parents gave up hope. He was never the favorite child anyway, Megan was smarter. She was cuter. She was... in any possible way better than him.

Sure he's hot. Thick vein filled arms, tight pants that shape his absolutely beautiful ass, thick curly hair. Everyone wanted to fuck him but no one gave a damn how he felt or what he was thinking.

In here it's the opposite. He's spread apart, all his limbs reaching towards a different corner of the room and the chains around his ankles, his wrist, and his neck chafe. Sweat lines his brow, the concrete smells, and the lights all blink and flicker. Today is the day he dies.

The conductor this evening is a woman. She's got a bare chest, a pair of jean shorts, and a mascot dog head hiding her own. In her hands is the bullwhip referred to as the cat of nine tails. Nine vines all with sharp claw like teeth to latch on and it takes some force to remove them.

"My time is up, huh?" He says though he knows she wont respond.

It's been too long. No one's coming for him. Now, at the ripe old age of seventeen, death lingers in the doorway but is not invited in until he has suffered greatly. Will it be heaven he gets into? Or will the Earth violently split beneath him and swallow him into it's magma core where the pain is so much worse than the whip can offer.

The first hit barely kisses his chest and blood oozes like the tears from his eyes. So soon? Really? He's a man, you'd think they'd stay strong a little longer. Well, little nutrition leaves your skin pulled tight over your bones and there's a vibration that courses your entire body when these bones are grazed. He looks down at her chest, the round breasts so supple and he knows that's what they want from him. Associate the trauma with sexuality. Be the pig they think you are.

Isn't he?

Another slap and the teeth find his jaw, his neck, and the patch behind his left shoulder all at the same time. It's lodged.

So she walks as far as she can before the jerk pulls her wrist back. He's screaming, "Daddy! Daddy help me!"

One quick flick of her wrist and his jaw separates from his skull of the right hand side. The sound he makes is animalistic and the bone's protruding beneath his trout like lips are mangled. His tongue vibrates vehemently as spittle soaks his chin and blood seeps down his neck over his chest. His eyes roll up in the back of his head and he starts twitching.

Once again she throws another hit his way and this time they lodge into his abdomen. He's forcing himself to breath but it's short and rapid and none of the oxygen is really getting to his brain. He drops to a low droning whimper that comes out so child like that the woman beating him drops her end of the whip.

She looks over at the thick plated glass knowing she's being watched but look at him. He's destroyed. His mind would never recover from something this aggressive. She didn't think she'd have the strength, thought for sure she'd struggle with the process, that it would take longer for her to be able to mutilate him.

Kneeling down she wraps her shaking fingers around the base of the whip and looks back up at the boy before her. His arms and legs are bleeding and she's realizing how skinny he is. His eyes find her and she's shocked with the fowl feeling she can't put a name too as she tightens her grip around the teather between him and her. With a heafty tug his stomach burst open and his intestines spill out onto the floor and she's kneeling there as he bleeds out into a puddle that pools around her.

She's silent. She has just murdered someone for the first time. Someone she knew. Someone she went to school with.

The door behind her opens and a tall woman in a tailored suit walks in. She's waiting for the young girl to stand but when she doesn't the till woman speaks, "Good work. They liked what they saw. Excellent touch of sympathy, we usually don't root for that but in this case it was a win. Clean yourself up Ms. Valentine. Much more work lies ahead."

She removes the mascot head and her red hair falls in waterfalls at her side. Tears stream down her face and she really looks at the mess she made. How strange to be on this end when she's been where he's at before. Not to that extent but being raped and tortured is death eternal in the moment. What she did for Mr. Parker was merciful. Considering everything that happens here at headquarters.