The Moros Murders

Cassius

Reickon’s office wasn’t small. It wasn’t nice either. It was acceptable. You could tell that it had been passed from one detective to the next, and none had been too bothered about making it their own. The only decoration in the room was a certificate from the Guards Academy hanging on the wall, with faded gold lettering. The place was, like many things, unloved.

I glanced through the window I had entered, before drawing the tatty old striped curtains. I hadn’t turned the lights on so as the light left the room, a musty darkness filled it. I sat down on the detective’s tearing leather seat, resting my feet on the desk. The sun would set in minutes and Reickon would be here just after.

The letter I left him ensured a reason for him to come straight back to work. Just moments after the sun had set, and I was left in the shadows, Reickon clicked open the lock on the door. He made the mistake of closing it before he turned the lights on.

“Sit,” I commanded, gesturing my pistol towards one of the empty chairs before the desk. My tone was casual, I think that probably scared him more than the gun. The fact that I was so relaxed was worrying. He complied and I held my pistol loosely but still made sure it was always trained on him. “If you wouldn’t mind, put your gun on the table.” The detective slowly took out his pistol and placed it on the desk. I took it and put it in one of the pockets of my jacket.

“Tell me, Rick, can I call you Rick? When did it start? Does he pay you better than the city? I wonder how much it took for you to cover up his crimes. I’m guessing as so many of you are, being corrupt must pay well,” I said leaning forward in my seat and looking him in the eyes.

“I’d guess it does. What do you want?” Reickon asked, in his gruff voice.

I fell back in my seat and sighed, “Nothing much. In fact, I’m perfectly happy to let you walk away, unharmed.”

“What’s the catch?” He seemed unenthused by my offer.

“I just need a name.”

“Whose name?”

“Who pays your bills?” I asked with a small grin.

“You already know. The City,” He provided, knowing sure well that wasn’t what I meant.

“Who’s paying the bounty on Medea Moros’ head?”

“How should I know?” he scoffed.

“Your life hangs by a thread, Rick. Tell me what I need to know or die in agony - it’s your choice. Nobody will save you; nobody will remember you. I’m giving you one chance: tell me now, and walk away unscathed - don’t tell me, and wish for a painless death that won’t come. The money isn’t worth the anguish I’ll inflict upon you if you deny me. There are plenty of criminals out there for you to serve without worrying about my wrath.”

“He’ll kill me,” Reickon growled through gritted teeth.

“I’ll kill you,” I countered.

“He is a sadistic psychopath. Whatever you do, will be nothing compared to what he’ll do to me.”

“Rick, let’s just assume that whatever he can do to you, I can do ten times worse.” The evil smirk on my face must have sent chills down his spine. I had experienced first hand the terror of being tortured and forced into submission. But I had also learned how to play the part of the torturer myself, of striking fear into the hearts of my victims until I would have them begging for mercy. Even if it was only an illusion, no one could ever know the difference. Fear is powerful, but a bond based on fear can easily be broken.

“His name is Tarin Xavier. He likes to burn them.” Reickon visibly shuddered as he spoke the last words. The horrified expression on his face set me a little on edge.

“Burn them?” He didn’t answer, just shook his head. I raised my pistol and shot out the light, causing a minor explosion. I used that and the darkness to disappear. I shifted into a little back beetle and flew under the curtain and out the window, vanishing into the night.

~

Walking through the streets of the middle ground, for some reason, I was on edge. I felt as though I was being watched, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around. If I was being followed, they would wait until I entered the Dregs. If someone gets jumped in the Dregs, no one cares; if someone gets jumped in the middle ground, suddenly the Guards Alliance exist.

Just as I suspected, when I crossed the Dreg line, the eerie feeling seemed to grow. I felt uncomfortable in the dark, empty street. My own paranoia was scratching at my skull, threatening to lash out. I spun around, the hairs on my neck standing on end. My eyes darted back and forth like a frightened animal, searching for an escape. But it was too late - a figure was inching closer with every breath I took, while another materialised behind me. I felt a cold rush of air as the man raised his hammer high into the air and brought it down upon my head with a sickening thud.

I crumpled to the ground, my vision blurring as the figure standing over me came into focus. A woman. She knelt beside me and brushed a stray lock of hair from my eyes as my sight faded and I started to drift away. But before I was lost in the dark void of unconsciousness, I saw the sheer maliciousness radiating from her face, a sneer that promised only pain and suffering.

I woke to loud music. Old, swinger music. It would’ve been soothing had I not been chained by my wrists. My arms had been raised above my head and I’d been hung high enough for me to be on my tip toes. Whoever these people were, they knew how to make someone feel uncomfortable. The position they put me in makes it harder to breathe. There’s also nice, easy access to the entire body for convenient torture.

I was in a dank, cold room. It looked like a cellar, almost definitely in the Dregs. There weren’t any windows, the only light was from a single, naked bulb on the ceiling. There was blood on my bare chest, spilled from my head wound. No one would find me there, no one knew I was missing. The bolt on the big, heavy looking, metal door creaked open. A finely dressed woman walked through the door, the indifferent expression on her face and gleam in her eyes made me know that it was her that would do the hurting. So I focused on her clothes.

The woman had a finely crafted corset of pale blue and silver, laced up her slender waist. A low cut white blouse of linen draped over her arms, ending just above her upper thigh. Had she not been wearing grey jodhpurs, tucked into a pair of expensively polished show boots - you might have mistaken her for a night lady. Behind her entered the man who had knocked me down, he wheeled in a cart containing various tools. She instructed him to stand in the corner.

“You don’t look as scared as the others. They always make a point of begging for their life,” the woman spoke with a smooth, sultry voice. When I didn’t answer, she laughed and stroked my chest with the tips of her fingers. I could feel her long painted nails grazing my skin. She ran her fingers over the old and fresh scars that littered my chest. “You know pain. I’ll enjoy playing with you.”

Suddenly heavy metal began blasting through a speaker somewhere behind me. It echoed loudly in the small chamber striking pain through my already pounding skull. I watched as the woman picked up a metal object, it looked a little like a cattle prod. It flashed with hot blue energy as she pressed the button on the side. She jabbed it harshly into my stomach. 4000 volts running through your body is not fun. It’s probably one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. All my muscles locked up and I felt myself convulsing. When she removed it from my skin, I couldn’t move. I could barely stop the drool from escaping my mouth, let alone form a sentence.

She kept shocking me, over and over. The electrocution made it impossible for me to shift. I couldn’t even begin to start thinking of a way out of there. My mind was frazzled and my heart had already given out once. My vision was blurred so I struggled to make out what she was doing but I was relieved to see her put down the shock stick. She lifted some sort of projectile device off of the table.

Pain shot through my wrist as a nail burst into it. I realised that she had picked up a nail gun only after the blood was pouring onto my scalp. She aimed down this time, the nail hit my thigh, dangerously close to my femoral artery. Just my luck to be kidnapped by some random psychopath. You go hunting one psycho, you end up the property of another. Brilliant.

Fortunately for me, the psycho bitch stayed away from my bones and knee caps. I imagined that meant that I had time, she wanted me to be able to walk. I hoped. Why? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if she was just some serial killer or someone I’d made an enemy of. The fact that she hadn’t said my name, and didn’t make a point of talking about revenge, made me think that she might not know me and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Coincidence?

The torture was slow and painful. She ‘played’ with me for about another hour before she removed the chains and I fell to the floor. I was too weak to do anything, all I could do was look at her as she knelt beside me and brushed the hair from my forehead. I was confused as she gently stroked my face and planted a soft kiss on my lips. This action in itself, was almost scarier than the actual torture. At that moment, I knew that she wasn’t planning on killing me. What she was planning on doing to me, I could only imagine.

She left me alone in the dark cold. I felt pain across every inch of my body, every time I tried to move it was so excruciating that I had to give up. It felt like hours before I finally pulled myself into a sitting position. I was panting from the exertion and sweat glistened on my chest. There wasn’t much of a chance of me recovering enough to shift before she started the torture again. I looked around from where I was sitting but the room was completely empty.

I dragged my battered body over to the door, there was no lock. I pulled myself up to a standing position using nooks in the door. It took all my strength not to collapse. I peered through the little barred window in the door and saw that it was bolted and padlocked from the outside. There was no way of me getting out of the room, at least not in the state I was in. The electrocution had really done me in. I fell back to my knees and crawled away from the door. I rested my back against the back wall in the corner and dozed off.

When I woke, I was still weak and my entire body ached. I wasn’t sure of the time or day, I could’ve been down there for days, although I suspected that it hadn’t been too long. A wooden chair had been placed in the centre of the room, it was bolted to the floor. It was facing away from me but it looked like one of those medieval torture chairs, with straps for my wrists, head and ankles. I waited in place for my inevitable pain. The door creaked open and in strode the lady followed by her pet.

The nasty woman smiled at me and gestured for me to sit down in the chair. I didn’t answer her, nor did I move. Not that I could, the pain I felt was extreme. She nodded her head to the man who I assume had once been in my position. He rushed towards me, grabbing me painfully by the scruff of my neck and dragging me across the room yanking my hair. He threw me aggressively into the chair strapping me in before returning to his corner.

“You really should do as you’re told,” she giggled, like I was a child that had just been scolded. I was angry, and lost control for a moment, snapping at her with fangs and wild eyes. She jumped back as my teeth barely missed her nose. She laughed, “I caught a shifter.” She turned back to the man, “Strap his head in,” she commanded and he complied.

The torture went on for quite some time. I was barely coherent by the time she was done. “Sorry sweetie but I have to keep you weak. I can’t have you shifting on me,” she said as she pushed a needle into the vein in my elbow crease. “This will make you feel better.” I wasn’t sure what she had injected me with but it wasn’t an anaesthetic, it was some sort of street drug. Most likely one of the drugs that bar rapers use. It didn’t make me feel better, just dizzy and confused.

She straddled my lap and again began brushing the hair from my face. She kissed me, gently but even so, I didn’t like it. Any effort I made to pull away was useless with whatever drug she gave me. She’d unbuckled my head restraint after she’d administered the drug. My head felt so heavy I could barely lift it. It scared me, the way that she kept flipping from violent to gentle. Remorse maybe?

I hadn’t a clue on how I was going to escape. No one even knew that I was missing. I tried to distract myself from her kissing my neck and putting her hands on me by coming up with some sort of plan. I wouldn’t get out of there by keeping quiet while she tortures me, but I might get her to let her guard down if I lean into her other desires.

At that point, I was already too weak to talk to her or really do anything. I could only sit there as she did whatever she wanted to me. I decided that before she drugged me again, when I had a little more of my strength back, I’d try talking to her. She left me strapped in the chair for a long time. I didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally came back. She had left me for long enough that some of the drug’s effects had worn off, but I was still a little confused.

Her pet hadn’t accompanied her this time. “What’s that?” I asked her nodding towards a strap of leather in her hand.

She giggled, “So you do speak. You have a warm voice.” She walked towards me and revealed what it was that she was holding, “It’s a present, you never told me your name, so I called you Gunny because of the guns you had when I found you.” She was holding what looked like a dog collar, and the way she said found, was unsettling. Found and kidnapped are two very different words, and the way she said it, made me think that she really had found me, although I knew that wasn’t true.

“Do you like it, Gunny?” she asked as she buckled it around my neck.

“Cass,” I spoke softly, I hated the feel of the leather against my neck. I felt like I was being strangled even though it wasn’t tight enough to steal my breath.

“What?” she asked, sitting down on my lap like she had done before.

“My name, it’s Cass.” I looked her in the eye and she smiled before kissing me again.

“I’ll have to get your collar a new tag then,” she said before continuing. I wasn’t sure if she’d planned to torture me that time and me talking to her put her off or not, but she didn’t hurt me that time. She didn’t drug me either. If I could get some strength up, I could escape. “I like you,” she said, getting more and more handsy.

“Why?” I asked.

“You’re prettier than the others, and you don’t cry or scream. You’re what I’m looking for.”

“What do you mean?” What exactly did this woman want from me? I wasn’t sure.

“She’s planned everything, you’ll love it,” she said giggling again, like I should’ve known what she was talking about.

“What?” I said kindly, not wanting to aggravate her.

She looked a little annoyed but then smiled. “The wedding, silly.”

I’m sorry, the what?