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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Torture
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JackCain Offline
Fighting to the last man



XWF FanBase:
Teens, some men, few kids

(booed by casual fans; hurts people; often angry)


#1
09-05-2017, 01:31 PM

11:47pm

'He looks scared to fuckin' death', thought Jack. The man lay on the crude gurney Cain had set up in the basement he'd rented - in cash - the day before. Spiked chains dug into the man's wrists, making him blink - the only thing he could do with the venom coursing through his system.

[Image: vlcsnap-2009-10-04-17h15m46s54.png]

The eyes betrayed the true horror though. He knew what was coming. He'd heard the stories - he wouldn't have been on Cain's radar if he hadn't - but even now, as he'd acted tough as he'd fought Cain in the alleyway, as he'd been hit over the head with the full bottle of Jack Daniels Cain had used as part of his disguise, as he'd squirmed when Jack injected him with the blowfish poison, to now, when he lay, absolutely helpless, on a home made torture bed, motionless, his eyes had never, even shown the fear that they did now.

Don't look so scared. We're just gonna play a game.

9:56pm


The rain was cold and harsh as it hit the concrete underneath Cain's feet. He'd been sitting there for three hours, getting more and more soaked, but it'd be worth it if his gamble paid off. He looked around the alleyway, and no other life was to be found. Cain still cut a menacing enough figure - even dressed in stinking, smelly clothes and a ratten baseball cap pulled down over his head - that no hobos, winos or junkies had chosen to share the alley with him.

Which suited him fine.

He'd been trailing the man ever since he'd delivered a package to one of Cain's safe houses two days ago. A package from his "mysterious benefactor", which had contained a DVD, a pair of black knuckledusters, and a note which simply said "Ravenhill". He'd watched the DVD, which had contained Ravenhill's promo (OOC: Which can be found here: http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?tid=29251 ), and Cain had taken in what he'd said - but the more immediate interest was the man who'd delivered it. Apart from his first trip from the private medical facility, where he'd first come across the man who'd promised him success, he'd not met any of the lackeys that he'd employed, so the one who'd been pretty sloppy in making the delivery was of particular interest. He wasn't going to lead him directly to the main man, but he'd certainly be a starting point.

So all that was worth getting drenched for. Water gathered and dripped off the brim of the baseball cap as a door away to Cain's left burst open, and a figure staggered out into the downpour. Cain risked a glance, and saw it was his prey. He gripped the full bottle of Jack Daniels he held in his right hand tightly. The glass slick against his palm, but still weighty.

The man stumbled in his direction, paying Cain no mind, and made his way past the supposed-down-and-out, fishing a cell phone out of his pocket and confusedly trying to unlock it.

Cain made his move, rising like a preying mantis, all pretence of inebriation discarded. The man realised to late Cain was upon him, and swung with a weak punch. Cain shrugged it off, and smashed his nose into a hundred tiny pieces with a punch from his knuckleduster-assisted fist. The man rose - not what Cain was expecting - and looked at his opponent with confusion, before realising, all too late, who he was dealing with. Confusion turned to fear as Cain bought the bottle down across his head, sending him plummeting face down into the ground, water diluting the blood that appeared from a deep wound on the side of his head.

Cain knelt by the unconscious man, and pulled a small syringe out of his pocket. He slipped the needle under the skin on the man wrist and depressed the plunger. Waiting a few seconds for the venom to take effect, he replaced the syringe, grabbed the now deadweight man by the ankle, and began to drag him along the ground.

There was much to do.


11:54pm

Now then sonny, I don't know you, but I do know that you have, somewhere in that little head of years, a tiny piece of information, that I need. So there's two ways this is gonna go.

One, you blink yes or no to my questions, and I eventually leave you here until that blowfish poison wears off - it's great stuff y'know, completely undetectable, and paralyses ya more or less completely. Only a few extremities, like fingers, eyes and toes can still move. All the important stuff - legs, arms, genitals, your head - completely immobilised - and ya get to go free - albeit with one or two minor missing pieces.

Two, you play the hero and don't betray your boss - or bosses, and I cut bits off ya until you go completely stir crazy and spend the rest of your life needin' a funnel to piss and a big stick to wipe your asshole. Thing is about this particular type of poison? You can feel fuckin' everythin'. And in case ya ass out? That drip over there is hooked up to some adrenaline, so you're gonna feel every inch of what's comin' to ya.

So let's start with the basics.

The guy suddenly takin' an interest in me. Government or Private? One blink for Government, two for Private.


The man blinks twice.

See, that's not so hard, is it? Now, based in New York, or somewhere else in the US? One for New York. Two for somewhere else.

The man blinks twice.

Now you're gettin' the hang of this aren't ya? Alright, here's a map - you blink twice when I point to the right place.

Cain traces his finger over the map - the man's eyes go wide, but he doesn't blink twice.

And I thought we were making progress. Still, ya can't say I didn't warn ya.

Cain picks up a meat cleaver from a desk next to the gurney, and brings it down hard, severing the man's hand at the wrist. He screws his eyes up tight with the pain, but doesn't pass out.

Let's try again.

Cain drops the meat cleaver as blood pours out of the man's severed wrist. He takes a small blowtorch to the wound to cauterise it, causing the man even more pain. He moves to the table and picks up a power drill.

Now. Location. Two blinks.

Cain moves his hands over the map until he reaches the South West. The man furiously blinks twice when Cain points to Los Angeles.

Thought so. Now I'm guessing that's not where the big boss comes from, but it's where one of his little generals lives. So I reckon I ain't gonna get any more outta ya.

The man blinks twice.

Oh ya agree? How nice. Well unfortunately for ya, there's one thing I didn't tell ya before we started all this.

I'm a big fuckin' liar.

So that poison, it ain't gonna wear off.

And I ain't gonna let you go.


Cain presses the power drill against the man's groin.

But it is gonna hurt.

Screams erupt as the screen fades to black.

After a brief passage of time, it fades up again. Cain, jacket off, is sitting on a wooden stool near to the gurney, which is obscured from view by his upper torso. His arms are covered in blood up to the elbows. His face spattered with red liquid. He reaches over to his coat and produces a cigar. He lights it and rolls it around his lips.


He actually regained the ability to speak before he gave up. Still wasn't enough to change my mind though. Never seen the inside of a man's throat before - it's fun to learn new things.

But before I go off on my little adventure, I've got to deal with Mr. Ravenhill.

I saw your little horror story, nice.

Seems if you've read one Stephen King horror story, you've read 'em all.

Another little "dark, gritty dead guy", who plays in shadows, loves hipster beards and bowler hats, who preys on women and those weaker than themselves to further ya agenda to make people think you're scary.

You think ya know fear sonny?

You think ya frighten people?

Ya couldn't be more wrong.

No one is frightened by another dime store spook. If you'd a' turned up next month, maybe, MAYBE ya could a got away with bein' a Halloween joke, but as it is, ya a month early, and ya talk some of the most putrid shit I've ever heard.

It's all very well gettin' inside the head of a lady who's biggest fear is not havin' enough shoes, but it's gonna take a little more than that to make me break out in a cold sweat.

The problem with bullies like you? You only ever prey on those weaker than yourselves. Ol' dickless back here? He had done his share of shit, and he'd done some nasty things.

But even he was scared when I came callin'.

And if you're as clever as ya say you are, then you'll be able to work out that this ain't gonna be a cakewalk.

See, I don't really care whether I win or lose matches like this. Stuff like that - it don't matter to me. What does matter is hurtin' people like you.

Kidnappers, rapists, perverts, psychos who use Brylcreem on their fuckin' moustaches to justify what they're doin' as right.

But ya often find when people like you look into the face of real fear, then you blink - just like our friend back there.

I'll be interested to see what's in your eyes when I look into 'em, cos form where I'm standin', you're a fuckin' second-rate horror feature. A B-movie lookin' for recognition in Oscar season.

You're a joke.

The only thing is, no one's laughin'.

So I'm gonna meet ya in that ring. I'm gonna take everything ya can throw at me, then I'm gonna give it back to ya tenfold. I'm gonna stand ya up, look square into those little puppy dog eyes, witness that fear, then I'm gonna knock ya out.

Then I'll just come and get your little damsel in distress - just to prove a point.

Nothin' you have, nothin' you can do, can hurt me.

But I can hurt you.

It's what I do best.


Cain looks behind him as a bloodied limb slips off the table and lands with a wet impact on the floor.

Just ask him.

Cain takes a big puff on the cigar as the camera fades to black.

[Image: tumblr_mxhzhq16GP1qg94hko1_250.gif]


[Image: JackCain.jpg]
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