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spongetasticHe circled around the man slowly, his leather boots clunking loudly on the tiled floor. Heavy breathing emanated from his companion. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Drawing closer showed him another man, completely naked and chained up by his arms.
“Raas,” the man groaned out. “Please.” He rattled his chains as he arched his body. The man called Raas responded by blowing smoke in his face.
“No, no. We’re just getting started.” Raas slapped the man lightly on the cheek, then pushed his fingers through the man’s hair and pulled tightly. He saw the man wince in pain and for some reason released him.
He left so many marks behind. Burns, bruises, cuts… Nothing life-threatening, but enough that everyone could see Raas was here.
It’s time for your treatment. In a flash it was all wiped away.
--
Headphones were strapped onto his head. As he listened his fingers restlessly tapped out meaningless words in Morse code. It annoyed everyone he worked for but they never complained about it since he was the best in the field.
“They’re planning something,” he reported. “An attack, maybe. With a bomb.” He paused to listen more intently. His fingers tapped out “election” in Morse code. “It’s a tricky code but I’m pretty sure that’s the answer.”
“Do they say when they plan the attack?” he was prompted.
“Tricky code,” he muttered. He was puzzled, and being stumped caused his Morse code twitch to become even more prominent. He tapped out the words “subway”, “cheerleader” and “hero”. Something he picked up caused him to finally stop. The color drained from his face. Shakily he took off his glasses. “So many,” he whispered faintly. “So many people are going to die…”
Would you like a treatment? A flash of light dissolved the words into nothing.
--
“I will kill you,” he muttered darkly. His hand was on the man’s throat, the barrel of a pistol nudged up under the man’s chin. “I will pull this trigger and splatter your pathetic brains all over the wall.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He didn’t dare say a word. The gun pressed deeper into the man’s skin.
“No, you’re right. That would be too easy. Maybe I’ll just blast your kneecaps to dust. It won’t kill you but it’ll hurt like hell.” A whimper emanated from his victim. He let out a low chuckle, leaning in to whisper more gruesome threats into the man’s ear.
You need a treatment. The light destroyed the words.
--
Peter didn’t remember any of it. That was the whole point of the Dollhouse. But sometimes he wondered what he’d forgotten.
“Raas,” the man groaned out. “Please.” He rattled his chains as he arched his body. The man called Raas responded by blowing smoke in his face.
“No, no. We’re just getting started.” Raas slapped the man lightly on the cheek, then pushed his fingers through the man’s hair and pulled tightly. He saw the man wince in pain and for some reason released him.
He left so many marks behind. Burns, bruises, cuts… Nothing life-threatening, but enough that everyone could see Raas was here.
It’s time for your treatment. In a flash it was all wiped away.
--
Headphones were strapped onto his head. As he listened his fingers restlessly tapped out meaningless words in Morse code. It annoyed everyone he worked for but they never complained about it since he was the best in the field.
“They’re planning something,” he reported. “An attack, maybe. With a bomb.” He paused to listen more intently. His fingers tapped out “election” in Morse code. “It’s a tricky code but I’m pretty sure that’s the answer.”
“Do they say when they plan the attack?” he was prompted.
“Tricky code,” he muttered. He was puzzled, and being stumped caused his Morse code twitch to become even more prominent. He tapped out the words “subway”, “cheerleader” and “hero”. Something he picked up caused him to finally stop. The color drained from his face. Shakily he took off his glasses. “So many,” he whispered faintly. “So many people are going to die…”
Would you like a treatment? A flash of light dissolved the words into nothing.
--
“I will kill you,” he muttered darkly. His hand was on the man’s throat, the barrel of a pistol nudged up under the man’s chin. “I will pull this trigger and splatter your pathetic brains all over the wall.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He didn’t dare say a word. The gun pressed deeper into the man’s skin.
“No, you’re right. That would be too easy. Maybe I’ll just blast your kneecaps to dust. It won’t kill you but it’ll hurt like hell.” A whimper emanated from his victim. He let out a low chuckle, leaning in to whisper more gruesome threats into the man’s ear.
You need a treatment. The light destroyed the words.
--
Peter didn’t remember any of it. That was the whole point of the Dollhouse. But sometimes he wondered what he’d forgotten.