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.
~finis~
Site design and layout by Taka Tenou.