Page 34 of Dark Side of the Cloth (The Righteous 1)
“Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?”
Dean casually walked over to his prey.
“I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, and depending on how you answer will dictate how this goes for you.”
“Fuck you, you mother fucking, cunt sucking, spic…”
Dean sighed loudly as the man continued to swear a blue streak. But inside, his inner darkness stood up and fucking cheered. He didn’t need any encouragement to torture the fucking shit out of this man, but when they were stubborn pricks, his juices flowed a little faster. Dean looked around and spotted a large crowbar leaning against the wall. Grabbing it, he came back and held it out toward the man.
“Would you like to revise your previous answer?”
“Go fuck yourself, you boarder hopping trash!” The man spat at his feet, just missing his boots.
“An abuser and a racist, very well.”
Taking his stance, he lifted the crowbar up onto his shoulder like a baseball bat and swung. He visualized the man’s kneecap as a beautiful white baseball and heard him yell, “No,” as the metal came down.
The sickening crunch was music to his ears as the knee snapped sideways, pushing bone through skin and staining the floor with more red. The man let loose a blood-curdling scream that echoed around the large space as he tried to collapse to the floor. The thick zip ties held the man in place as he gasped and wheezed. What Dean liked to call pain drool slid from the man’s mouth and dripped to the floor. He let the man have a minute to recover, which he thought was pretty fucking nice of him.
“Now, let’s try this again unless, of course, you’d like me to even things up?” He nodded toward the good knee. “I’m always up for a second home run.”
The man’s lips pulled up into a snarl, hatred radiating from his ice-blue eyes.
“What do you want?”
It had taken a long time to learn to control the beast that raged in his body, the beast his father infected him with because of his biology. Some of his early work had died much too fast because he hadn’t learned what he needed. The trick was to inflict max pain but limiting the damage to nonlife-threatening portions of the body. Dean’s dark urges screamed to rip this man’s heart out, to do his sworn duty and protect, but the rational part of his mind said not to rush things. This particular piece of shit would endure more pain if he drew it out.
“Much better. I knew we’d learn to get along.” He smiled cheerily, flashing his perfectly white teeth and resting the crowbar over his shoulder. “I want to know two things. First, where is your brother? Second, what was your role in the rape and mutilation of the Jacob’s girl seventeen years ago?”
“I haven’t heard from my brother in years, no idea where he is. And I don’t know what you’re talking about, what Jacobs girl?”
“You know it always amazes me that assholes like you are so stupid, even when you’re staring at excruciating pain right in the face. I thought we understood one another.” Deantskedat the pathetic excuse for a man and raised the crowbar off his shoulder.
The man’s eyes bugged out as they followed the movement.
“No! No! Wait, I might know where he is,” the man blurted.
Before he could say anything further, he promptly threw up and jerked against the bindings, the visible kneecap twisting at an odd angle as he did so. Dean took a step back to avoid the second round of vile-smelling vomit that would curdle anyone’s stomach. Chunks of he didn’t know what mixed with blood and piss ran towards the small drain in the floor.
Disgusting, and yet so delightful.
Dean sighed and waited for the man to compose himself. “And?”
“And…” Beads of sweat dripped from his brow. Dean could almost hear the gears churning in the piece of shit’s brain. “I was the driver. There were supposed to be two girls, but my brother only managed to get one. We argued when he got back to the car, and he only had the one girl.”
“So what did you do?”
“Like I said, we argued. I suggested we share her because I wanted a good fuck, but that turned into a fistfight. I lost the fight, and I got this nasty scar on my face from that asshole to prove it. He took the car and the girl, and I was left on my ass at the side of the road. I don’t have a fucking clue what exactly he did after that, but knowing my brother, I’m sure it was fucked up.”
The man stopped talking and proceeded to gag, only dry heaves this time, but the retching sound was enough to make Dean want to end his miserable life.
“Trust me, that girl would’ve been better off if I won the fight. I mean, I like shit rough, and her little asshole would’ve gotten an education. You know what I mean? But she’d still be alive. My brother—he’s just warped out of his gourd fucked up. He likes to watch shit die, pluck wings off bugs and hang cats…”
“Yeah, I get it.” Dean interrupted the asshole. “So that’s why you stopped speaking because your brother was warped? Take a look around. You’re not exactly a stand-up citizen.”
“Fuck you, man. I’m telling you how it was. My brother was always pushing the limits, and he was going to get us arrested or killed—fuck, probably both. Unlike him, I stopped with the pre-teen girls after that night. It was way more risk than I was up for. I hadn’t even liked the snatch and grab idea, to begin with.”
“Oh no?” Dean rose an eyebrow in question.
