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Manson 'The Martyr' · **10-15-2014, 08:23 AM**

A sterile, claustrophobic steel box. A small-length cracked mirror on
one wall. A door fortified with heavy-duty locks adorns another wall.

Sitting at an oversized table in the center is a young adult. Sweat glistens on his face, hair matted to his forehead. His right arm is tied behind him. His left is outstretched, strapped to the table, palm down.

A piece of paper, pair of pliers, and hammer lie in wait next
to his hand. Across the table, Mickey Manson is standing, intense and
dutiful, towers over him, his black suit making him look very intimidating.

Manson: "I really don’t want to hurt you."

Man: "I don’t want you to either."

Manson: "Gein does."

The man shakes his head and stares down at the table. A tough one, eh? Manson glances at a small cracked mirror on the wall. In a flash, he swipes the hammer -- a sickening THUD as he slams it on the man’s trapped hand. He YOWLS in pain, instinctively jerking his battered limb toward his body -- but, of course, it doesn’t move.

Manson, growls as he grabs a chair and slides up to the table with it, before sitting down. All of this done aggressively.

Manson: "I can do this all day."

He really couldn't. I mean, I could, but... see, little ol' Mickey here doesn't have the guts.

Manson: "Gein... can do this all day."

That's better.

Man: "Who the fuck is Gein?! I didn't do ANYTHING to a Gein!"

Mickey swings the hammer again -- CRUNCH, dead center on our buddy's hand. He SCREAMS. His body trembles as he fights tears, delightful. Mickey rests the hammer’s head on the man’s thumb -- lines up as if
readying to hit a nail.

Man: "Why are you doing this..?"

Manson: "Gets the job done."

Ooooo... A quick WHACK on the thumbnail. The man SCREAMS -- a sobing wail of pain. He turns his head and pleads with the mirror:

Man: "...Please..."

The thumbnail turns deep purple as blood pools underneath it. Manson gives it a push -- the poor man YELPS.

Manson: "Alright then."

He drops the hammer and grabs the pliers. He latches to the
bruised nail.

Manson: "I love this part."

He tugs, ever so gently -- The man WHIMPERS.

Manson: "See? Wasn't so bad huh?"

Man: "N-"

Manson yanks -- the thumbnails RIPS clean off -- blood spurts
across the table. The man HOWLS as blood continues to ooze from the wound.

Mickey leans across the table, where he-

*Ring-Ring, Ring-Ring*

Manson sighs. He gets up, walking over to the old office telephone.

Manson: "Hello? Oh you picked Gein for your team? Fantastic."

He pauses, taking a long stare at the man, crying quietly in his seat.

"I'll be there soon."

And with that, Manson walks over to the mirror, looking at his crumpled suit and muddy, black leather shoes. He leans in close to the mirror, his lips touching it.

"We're going to go on a journey, friend."

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