"Double R" pt. 1 of 2 =/\= The Gift — rp3

Getting a little R&R
Rails & Rape

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"Psssst... wake up."

My eyes pop open as I'm startled; awoken from my heavenly dream. My right hand is around the throat of the offender as I shout, "Fool! I had returned home! I was supreme ruler once again!"

This miserable man is about to pay with his life; not only because he awoke me from the only peace I have, but also for the fact that he was somehow able to locate me inside of this abandoned train car. I'm located far from America right now, in the middle of nowhere, hidden inside of an old train car. Why am I looking at Steve Sayors? You'd have to jump a fence and cross several dozen sets of railroad tracks just to reach the location of this car, and some how... some way... here stands Steve Sayors before my very eyes. I know this because of the name tag on his jacket. I actually haven't met him before so I wouldn't have recognized him if he didn't have the name tag on.

This is Steve Sayors, XWF interviewer, right?

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I have no reason to believe it's not him. A smile begins to form on my lips, luring Steve in to accept my hand–

And that easily I'm looking down at Steve Sayors on his back after flipping him with the Egyptian Finger Toss. He looks up at me and shouts, "You bitch ass– you broke m- my fucking f- fingers!" That weak, pathetic man is fighting back tears as he spews his venom my way.

I slowly reach behind me and begin pulling it from my belt.... the Gift of Eternities Past.

Often deceiving by its name; this seven inch, rippled blade is forged from a virtually unbreakable metal and most certainly does not feel like a gift to Steve Sayors right now. In fact, judging by the way he's trying to pull the blade back out of his mouth and is gargling his own blood, I'd say this is one gift he's wishing had never been bestowed upon him. What an ungrateful mongrel...

"Swallow!"

I drive that handle down deeper, "swallow it!–" forcing the blade through the back of his throat and allowing the wider base of the blade to begin slicing either side of his mouth as I continue pressing and grinding, just stuffing his face like he hadn't eaten in weeks. I almost feel as though a quick Gilmour remark would be fitting, but I'm not so mentally challenged that I need to reference the easiest target in the land every time I'm heard from.

"Would you look at that? Your smile has already doubled in size thanks to this gift I've been so kind as to deliver. Your jaws can now officially rival that of the largest snakes on Earth as your mouth can open several times larger than any other human being... and it's all thanks to me; thanks to this gift."

By this point in time all that can be seen is the handle of the blade - a beautifully carved piece, made of a material resembling black jade but now covered in the vital, red wine that is being gargled up by this sloppy, disgusting eater. I see an old rag tossed in the corner of this train car so I walk over and pick it up. I shake off the insects and dirt, taking this old crusty rag and using it to gently wipe Steve's mouth where he's spilling his wine. "There there... you've made a bit of a mess from your own mouth; reminds me of Alexandra Callaway," I say with that slightest hint of a chuckle— Kea would understand, but the others who swoon over that silty, trifling Callaway are most likely clueless as to how many of her would be words are really just her belching up male Congregation members' bubbly semen.

"Blarg... bleh... ugh... ack!" ...Whomp! Is this man reading my mind and doing his best Callaway impression for me? I am not amused.

"SHHHHHHHUT UP!" — Saliva particles spurt from my mouth as I force those words out between my clenched teeth. This maggot dares to interrupt my thought process and receives a kick to the underside of his jaw that makes so much blood squirt up out of his mouth that it actually reaches my face. Drops of this man's blood now decorate my scowl as he shakes and tries pulling the blade from his mouth, but it's already penetrated not only the back of his neck but the floor of this train car. He is officially tacked down weather he likes it or not; though in fairness, it wouldn't matter if he could get up at this point. He's regurgitating so much wine that he'll be nothing more than a dry, withered up grape in a few minutes.

"Steve Sayors... I wish I could say that you'd be missed, but I have a feeling nobody will even know you're gone. It's unfortunate we never got a chance to get acquainted under friendlier circumstances."

Most of his black skin is covered in red by this point. I can't help but wonder why this hasn't happened before today if there are so-called Nazis in the land of the extreme, but perhaps my understanding of what a Nazi represents is flawed. I don't hail from their world.

(in Joey Styles' voice)
"Oh my god!"
-a man has entered at the far end of the train car

I find myself already turned and making a mad dash for the man before I even lay eyes on him. That first split second of having a new voice enter the car has triggered reflexes even I wasn't aware were this sharpened. Here we are just eight seconds later and I've already chased this man back out and around the train car. There was never any question of whether I'd catch the man but I admit I expected it to be more of a fifteen second chase; however, by the time we hit the fifteen second mark I already have both of my hands around his throat and he's gasping for air. Pathetic.

I debate whether to even waste a single breath communicating with this man when he says something startling... "Stop! I'm with the X... (cough) ...W...F! Ug, eck.. ah..." This I've got to hear, so I release the man; both of us knowing full well that if need be I can subdue him in just a few seconds. I allow him time to catch his breath, cough, spit, and choke. I take these few seconds to peer far in each direction of this train yard to make sure no others are in sight. I don't need anymore surprises...

"Ugh... my god. It's ok; I'm here to interview you. Do you (cough) greet everyone like this? Did you kill that man in there?"

Alright, well he had a shot — the hands go right back around his throat and I smash the back of his head so hard into the train car he's back up against that his eyes roll around like they're floating in water for a few moments. I lean in close enough to smell which brand of fear he's living off of, and I gently say to him...

TO BE CONTINUED