Since there's been so much clamor for an Eddie death scene, I figured
I could try my
hand at this vignette.
RATING: Firm NC-17. This is extremely gory, sick, twisted, and all around it reeks of gross ickyness. Unless you deal with dead things and can go to lunch right after, don't eat at any time near to reading this. That and I use some strong language.
Vow of Innocence: My knowledge as displayed in this is NOT firsthand! Really!
Disclaimer: Eddie belongs to other people, with money, like CBS. I own him not, and I make no profit. Blah, blah, getting out pent up aggression, blah, blah, I need therapy, blah, blah.
Notes: The Russian mob is nothing like the Italian mob. It is modeled on the gulag culture, if one can be said to exist. "Bugor" is a Russian slang term originating from the gulag. It is used to signify the man who controls the criminals. In the Russian mob, that's who you are loyal to, if indeed, you can be said to be loyal at all. All of this is generalization and is not meant to be an accurate portrayal of the modern Russian mob. In Russian, derogatory slang has a lot of vaginal references, which would then translate into "cunt" for English speakers.
The original Acid Bath Vampire, John George Haigh, went on a killing spree in London during World War II. He was caught and convicted. He dissolved his victims in a large vat filled with acid when he could no longer burn them.
Can you spot the technical gaffe? *grin* Inserted specially for the geeks and nerds(like me!)!
Eddie's Death Scene, Version 1.0
by Lex 'Spork' Tenou
Eddie stumbled on a crack in the uneven concrete. His soft soled shoes were not designed for the rough surfaces of the Las Vegas back alleys.
"Keep going, scumbag!" The grating voice accompanied the shove to Eddie's shoulder, forcing him to trip over his cobbled feet, landing painfully on his cheekbone. A sickening crunch filled the air as his cheek abraded the sidewalk, leaving trace amounts of himself in the puddle of pungent garbage water and urine.
A sharp boot toe connected with his ribs when he didn't immediately rise up. A sob escaped his lips.
"I said, MOVE, cunt!"
Eddie rose painfully, his hands bound behind him. Blood seeped under the abraded skin on his cheek, forming a slight bruise that would grow as the night continued.
He continued to stumble down the fragrant alley, the apathy of the surrounding darkness seeping into him, igniting a panic. The smelly wad of used shop rags that filled his mouth would not allow any screams to echo off the deserted streets.
Eddie hadn't seen who had picked him up. All he knew was that he was being abused for some imagined wrong. He had arranged to make payments to his bookie, he was mostly clean, and he hadn't hit Catherine since they had broken up. He hadn't even cursed in front of his young daughter Lindsey. What could he have possibly done to warrant this abuse?
After an eternity in the darkened alleyway, Eddie and his escort finally made their way into a long deserted meat market. The skitter of rat's feet on the floor awakened chills that ran down his spine. He couldn't suppress the fear any more than he could suppress the blood that was seeping into his mouth from his shattered cheekbone. The pain was making him dizzy. The walls began to swim around him, making fascinating designs before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell unceremoniously onto the floor.
Frankie laughed as he saw the sleaze fall. Dego shot a quelling glance in his direction. It was enough to make Frankie duck his head in shame.
One did *not* piss off the head of the Vladimir syndicate if one wished to remain alive.
"So this is the boy who angered the boss. Wonder what he did."
"Doesn't matter. He's not leaving here alive." Dego gestured at the awaiting chair. "Set him up there."
Frankie pulled the unconscious Eddie into the chair, propping him up. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Frankie walked over to a waiting bucket of water. It had been sitting here, awaiting their arrival all night. By now it would be ice cold.
Frankie upended the bucket, dropping the bucket onto Eddie's now sopping wet head.
A cruel laugh filled the empty building at the sound of the muffled shouts coming from under the bucket.
"Go ahead and cry all your want, cunt, you're not getting out of here."
A knife appeared in Frankie's hand. The silver glint caught the light as he leaned forward and lifted the edge of the bucket with the tip of the knife. A smirk marred his disfigured face as he took in the abject fear etched on Eddie's face.
"That's right, cunt. You're mine." With his free hand, Frankie lifted the bucket from Eddie's head.
"I don't have all night here." The wry tone of Dego's voice broke into the growing web of overwhelming fear Frankie had begun to weave around Eddie.
"Awww...I never get to have any fun."
"The next one you can take your time. Right now, I have a date I'm going to be late for if you don't finish this quick!"
Frankie grumbled slightly to himself.
"If you'd prefer, I can leave you here with this scumbag." The even tone of Dego's voice chilled Frankie to the core.
"No, no, I've got it. It's fine."
The knife in Frankie's hand disappeared into Eddie's stomach. The finely honed tip slid smoothly between layers of fat and ill-kept muscle before hitting the thick band of muscle that was the diaphragm. The hungry steel slid just a little farther in, piercing and raping as much of Eddie as it could. The blade was twisted sharply, slicing deeply into Eddie's much abused liver.
Eddie's screams were well muffled by the oily shop rags. The fire in his belly made his head swim dangerously, threatening to make him pass out again. Blacking out would be a welcome relief from the agony ripping through his senses. As he felt the steel raping his belly, he knew he would live out the rest of this night. His last thought was a mass of regrets for the good byes he never said: to his bottle, the tables, Catherine's body, and his daughter.
Frankie had pushed the knife as deeply as he could into Eddie, using Eddie as ruthlessly as he did women. Eddie was lifted bodily from the chair by a full inch. Frankie slowly pulled the knife from Eddie's ravaged belly, twisting and pulling as he did. When a mere inch of unyielding steel remained within Eddie, Frankie pulled it sharply across Eddie's stomach.
Freed from the thin muscle and thick band of fat that had held them back, Eddie's intestines spilled from his body onto the floor with a wet splat. His bladder and lacerated stomach fell into his lap. The stench of his released bowels filled the air surrounding him, causing Frankie to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Killing people would be so much more fun if they didn't shit all over themselves when they died.
Dego stood leaning against the wall, his face a study in boredom.
"Are you done yet? I have reservations that I cannot make again." Dego studied his fingernails. Good, they were still clean.
"I'm done." Frankie stripped the jumpsuit and shoe covers. Holding a leg of the jumpsuit, he carefully cleaned the knife before replacing it in it's sheath. The jumpsuit was tossed onto the tarp that Eddie's still warm corpse had collapsed on. "I'll just put him in the vat and we can go."
The vat stood not more than three yards away. Large and designed to hold pounds upon pounds of ground beef, it currently held gallons upon gallons of a diluted ammonia solution. Frankie carefully wrapped the body, preparing it for it's acid bath. The chair was the first to enter, lowered courtesy of a makeshift pulley system. The acid flared up momentarily, making Frankie very glad that he was far back enough that he had no splatter from the gentle lowering of the chair into the acid. The rope that had held the chair was now useless. Frankie was careful as he sliced through the thick hemp. He knew exactly how badly ammonia corroded human skin. This was only the latest in a series of body dumps that included large vats.
The rope was thrown into the vat to join the remains of the chair. The tarp was pulled up and tied at the top, allowing for an easy lift into the waiting bath. The large man that had recently been Eddie was now being lowered carefully into a strong acid bath.
"Hurry up already. Susan isn't going to wait for me all night, and I'll be damned if I have to find someone else for tonight. It would make me very...unhappy." Cold sweat broke out on Frankie's forehead. He was going to live out this night, unlike the pussy boy he had just dispensed with.
The last of the tarp slid into the active ammonia solution. Frankie once again cut the rope, tossing it in carefully before removing the rest of the rope and tossing that in as well.
Frankie took one last look around, making sure there was nothing left. The softly bubbling vat behind him was the only evidence of anyone having been in this long deserted meat market.
Frankie knew that with as powerful of an acid as ammonia, the body would be gone within an hour. As it was, the only recognizable features left of Eddie was his DNA.
Dego lifted his gaze to Frankie, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. They left the market together, nodding at the guard Vladimir had ordered posted to ensure the safety of the package.
Dego and Frankie walked side by side down the deserted alley. An errant breeze lifted an old newspaper, forcing it to flutter reluctantly across their path. Their car was parked close by, a nondescript sedan. Dego waited until they were in the car before throwing Frankie the only bone he'd ever get.
"Nice job, kid. You may make bugor yet." Dego started the car and they drove off, onto the Strip and back to their waiting comrades.
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