|
Alex said "I'm not afraid of anything, any more..."
She crouched in the corner and waited for what seemed like an eternity. The room was small, damp; unlit. from the other cells, she could hear faint screams. Suddenly the door creaked open, and she was confronted by a heavy-set young man with receding hair and a dead-looking, almost blue pallour. He was dressed in an unusual sort of gown; glistening, slick black leather, ankle-length, with raised shoulders and straps on the cuffs that looped around his thumbs. He was carrying a small case of surgical instruments in one hand and a pair of rusty-looking pliers in the other. It was then that she noticed the dozens of metal spikes which pierced his flesh. They ran through the palms of his hands, through his wrists, his biceps; two of them entered his head underneath the chin, crossed over inside his mouth and reappeared out over his cheekbones. He had the feverish look of constant pain in his eyes. He appeared, to her, to be quite mad. He came closer, favoured her with a long look and then spoke in a tortured whisper with a faint trace of a British accent, "Greetings. Our name is Peter. You are to be our first assignment from the Lord Leviathan, but we don't want you to think that this will mean any sort of lenience. You opened the box, knowing full well what would happen." He stepped even closer, holding his hand out to her... |
|
|
( top )
All work on this site is © Nikolai Kingsley unless otherwise stated. |