Headcase - Necessary Evils #4 - Ch. 21 (Patreon)

Chapter 21

Zane

Zane was coming out of his skin. They were almost to Atticus’s and Jericho’s murder cabin. The others were already there with Jerry. Asa had wanted to be involved in his capture, but Thomas didn’t want amateurs involved in snatching Jerry off the street in broad daylight and Zane had refused to let Asa go alone. The compromise was neither of them go, instead meeting the others after they ‘acquired the target,’ as Thomas put it.

Asa was unsurprisingly calm, humming along to the music as they made the trek out to the woods. He said the only truly stressful thing about planning and executing a murder was ensuring an alibi was in place. There was no connection between Jerry and anybody in the Mulvaney family or Zane’s family for that matter. Since there was no fear of reprisal with Jerry, there was no worry about forming an alibi, which meant Asa was easy-breezy like they were out for a Sunday drive.

“Are you sure they got him?” Zane asked for the hundredth time since they got on the road.

Asa squeezed Zane’s leg, giving him an amused glance. “Yes, Lois. I know this will shock you, but basement dwelling losers are surprisingly easy to catch. He’s already been secured. They’re just waiting for us.”

“How long until we get there?” Zane asked, staring out the window as if he could gauge the distance by sight.

“We’re not even five minutes out.”

“Good.”

Zane just wanted to get this over with. He’d been wanting vengeance since he’d realized what had been done to his brother, and after watching that video… Zane took a deep breath and let it out, willing his stomach not to rebel once more. He’d never realized how much his brother’s death had eaten at him until the mere mention of his death had triggered his upchuck reflex.

“I know you want to be involved, but you can step out if it gets to be too much. Nobody would blame you.”

Zane knew Asa was trying to be sweet. And it was sweet, but there was a war going on inside him. Part of him wanted to hear the man scream forever. The other half wanted him to die quickly so Zane could forget about him. But there were still answers needed.

Zane gave him a sharp look. “With what? Getting the information we need to make sure that nobody else dies because of this piece of shit? Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“I promise you, I’ll get whatever information I can from him before I kill him,” Asa said, as if testing him.

Zane looked him in the eye. “I don’t care if I’m vomiting into a trash can. I’m not leaving.”

“Lois… I don’t know if you understand what you’re saying. My brothers and I have no ability to feel remorse. Or guilt. Or empathy. When I torture somebody, I feel nothing. No matter how much they scream or cry or beg, it has no effect on me. You’re not going to feel the same way.”

“He stole my brother’s grasp on reality, watched him wrap a noose around his neck, and then jerked off to the footage. His screams will be music to my ears.”

Asa nodded. “Alright. You’re right. He killed your brother. You’re entitled to have first crack at him.”

“And I get to decide how he dies,” Zane muttered.

Asa turned onto the long winding drive to the cabin and parked outside. A white van and Jericho’s Bronco were already there.

After they parked, Asa grabbed Zane’s shirt and tugged him over the center console. “Give me a kiss, Lois.”

Zane wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Asa had two modes. Quick, almost chaste pecks on the lips and soul searing, scorchingly hot, near pornographic tongue kisses. This was neither. He cupped Zane’s face, slanting their lips together in a slow slide, his tongue teasing but never truly deepening the kiss.

There was a hard rap at the window, causing Zane to jump, his gaze darting to the source of the sound. His mouth fell open when he saw Asa’s image mirrored just outside the car window, his stomach plummeting into his shoes.

“Is that…?” Zane asked.

“Uh-huh,” Asa said, sounding leary.

Zane stared up into Avi’s unsmiling face. Their similarities were uncanny. Zane had seen plenty of identical twins in his day, and there was always something that separated them, that made one distinguishable from the other. But the only thing Zane could see was that Avi’s left ear was slightly smaller than his right and Asa’s right ear was slightly smaller. Mirror twins. Mirror twins who could communicate telepathically. Was he already saying something about Zane in Asa’s head?

“Great. He already hates me, doesn’t he?”

Asa’s responding chuckle did little to quell Zane’s already frazzled nerves. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Asa’s twin. Avi was dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a black henley. He wore surgical gloves on his hands. Zane looked over at Asa’s almost identical outfit—minus the gloves—and frowned. “Do you guys always dress alike?”

“Not on purpose,” Asa promised.

Avi opened Zane’s door, offering a hand that Zane stared at for a long moment before taking, letting Avi help him from the car. “So, you’re the reporter who stole my brother’s…heart.”

“Well, he kidnapped me. It seemed only fair,” Zane murmured.

“Hurt him and—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll rip my lungs out, cut out my tongue, castrate me. Trust me, I’m already terrified of you,” Zane said, really wishing he could have saved this battle of wits for when he was better armed.

Avi eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t look terrified.”

Zane gave him a flat stare. “I’m screaming on the inside.”

A slow, almost disturbing, smile spread across Avi’s face before he looked at Asa. “I see it,” he said mysteriously.

With that, he turned and walked towards the cabin, stopping at the door to say, “Well, are you coming?”

“You good?” Asa asked one last time.

Zane gave him an exasperated look. “Oh, my God. Stop asking me that.”

Asa grinned. “After you, Lois.”

Once inside the door, all bravado left him in one fell swoop when he saw the man who’d murdered his brother. Inside, Avi, Jericho, and Atticus had taken the man and strapped him, naked, to the large wooden table. They’d kept his glasses on. He appeared to be unconscious.

“He’s not dead, is he?” Zane asked, looking from Avi to Jericho.

Atticus crossed his arms, expression grim. “No. But I just want you to know I’m burning this table.”

Jericho rolled his eyes. “Relax, Freckles. I’ll just sand it down and it will be good as new. We don’t have to throw the whole table away because we tortured one guy on it. Besides, I’m sentimental about that table.”

Atticus flushed but said nothing.

“Wake him up,” Asa said.

Jericho pulled a small white packet from his pocket and snapped it open under Jerry’s nose. He lurched violently, glasses going askew as he realized he was unable to move more than an inch or two with the thick leather straps around his ankles, chest, and midsection. “What the fuck? What’s going on? Who are you people?”

Asa ignored the man’s sputtering, frowning at Atticus. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you didn’t do the dirty work anymore.”

Atticus looked at Zane.

“I asked him to be here,” Zane said.

Zane had meant to tell Asa that he’d stolen his burner phone and texted Atticus. But Asa had decided Zane needed a distraction. And, well, Asa was very good at distracting Zane. So good that Zane forgot to care about text chains and stolen phones.

“Hello?” Jerry yelled, like he was worried they couldn’t see or hear him.

“You did? Why?” Asa asked.

Zane glanced at Jerry, already desperately struggling against his bindings. “I don’t know how to torture somebody, but I imagine it takes some skill to not kill them too quickly, right?”

“What? Torture? Me? What are you talking about? Whatever you think I’ve done, you’ve got the wrong guy,” Jerry wailed.

“We’ll get to you in a minute,” Jericho said, waving a hand vaguely.

Asa was still looking at Zane, betrayed. “And you thought he was the best one for the job? He doesn’t even like torturing people.”

“I’m a fucking doctor,” Atticus said, sulkily.

Zane shrugged at Asa. “He is a fucking doctor.”

Asa huffed a harsh breath out through his nose, then nodded. “Yeah, okay. It’s your show, Lois. You pick the cast.”

On the crude wooden counter, there was an array of sharp tools ranging from knives to surgical instruments. Zane picked up what looked like sharpened tweezers. “Jerry, did you ever play Operation as a kid?” he asked, running the dull end of the tool across his chest.

“W-What?” he sputtered.

Zane felt this strange sense of calm wash over him. “Operation. The game. Remember how you’d have the naked guy on the table and little red pinchers, and you’d have to carefully pull each of the man’s organs out. But if you touched the sides-” Zane made a sound like a buzzer, making Jerry jump. “The patient died.”

“I was excellent at that game,” Atticus said.

Jericho kissed the side of Atticus’s head. “Of course, you were, Freckles.”

“Not me,” Zane said, letting the sharpened tweezers sit just above the thick strap across Jerry’s chest. “I sucked at it. But my brother, Gage, was amazing.”

Jerry had tears streaming down his cheeks, but Zane found he truly didn’t give a fuck about his tears, real or fake.

“Do you remember my brother?”

“No. What? No. Why would I know your brother?” Jerry asked.

Zane dug the sharpened tweezers into the man’s doughy chest, then opened them, concentrating on the way his flesh parted. “That’s a lie, Jerry. My brother played your game.”

“What ga—”

Zane twisted the tiny tweezers, burrowing them deeper while Jerry screamed. “We have your DVD collection, you sick fuck. But if you want me to grab the scalpel, we can see if my skills have improved since first grade. Up to you.”

Jerry’s chest was heaving, blood following the plane’s of his body to drip on the table, earning a miserable look from Atticus. Still, Jerry shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zane sighed. “Have it your way.” He placed the tweezers down on the counter and picked up a larger scalpel. “Atticus, if I were to slice him open here,”—he indicated a spot on the man’s bloated belly—“would I kill him?”

“No, there’s plenty of padding before you nick the intestines,” Atticus said, bored. “But if you decide to eviscerate him, I beg of you, do it outside. Once the intestines fall out, they’re almost impossible to put back in.”

Zane shrugged. “I’ll try to keep everything where it belongs.”

He placed the scalpel against Jerry’s skin, but before he could even move the blade, Jerry screamed, “Wait! Wait. I admit it. I knew your brother. I knew him. Okay?”

Part of Zane was disappointed Jerry was so easy to break. “Why?”

“Why what?” Jerry asked.

“Why did you do that to him? To them? To anybody?” Zane pressed, shaking his head.

“Because they deserved it,” Jerry said, spit flying. “They have everything, and they just whine and bitch about how hard their lives are. They only have what they do because they have an advantage over me.”

“Intelligence?” Atticus asked.

Avi pointed at Jerry. “Basic hygiene?”

“Sports prowess?” Jericho asked.

“Looks. It was all about their looks. That’s all anybody cares about. I had the smarts to get into any school but they discriminated against me because I wasn’t a Chad.”

“A Chad?” Jericho asked.

“Incel talk for popular guy,” Avi said.

Zane could feel his blood boiling. “My brother was valedictorian, had a million extracurriculars, and could have gotten a sports scholarship if he didn’t get the academic one. My brother’s admission had nothing to do with his looks. You’re delusional.”

Jerry sneered. “That’s what all guys who look like you say. You don’t want to admit it’s not just chicks who have the upper hand because they’re hot.”

Zane dropped the scalpel and punched Jerry in the face, knocking off his glasses, letting himself enjoy the crunching cartilage and the blood exploding from his nose. He liked it so much, he did it again and again. He didn’t even realize he’d done much damage until Asa was pulling him off of Jerry.

“Easy, Lois. We can’t question him if you cave in his face,” Asa said, holding onto him until he quit struggling.

“Make him tell us about the game master,” Zane snarled. “If I get near him again, I’ll fucking kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a quick death.”

Those not strapped to a table closed in around Jerry, looking down at his beaten face.

“What do you say, Jerry? Care to answer our questions, or should I get out the blindfold and show you how we play Operation?” Asa asked.

“The blindfold is for us, not you,” Avi said, casually. “Just in case that affects your decision at all.”

“If I say anything to you, he’ll kill me,” Jerry whined.

“Read the room, Jerry. We’re not here to tell you about our lord and savior, John Wick,” Avi said, thumping him on the forehead. “We’re gonna kill you.”

“What?” Jerry gasped, as if he’d somehow convinced himself there was a way out of the situation.

“Yeah, Jerry. You’re not walking out of here,” Asa added. “Your death is a done deal. How many limbs you have when we kill you…well, that depends on you.”

“Like my brother said, he’s a doctor. You’d be shocked at how many appendages you can lose before your system starts shutting down.”

Jericho reached into a bag at his feet and pulled out a tiny canister. No, a torch. A mini blowtorch. He fired it up, letting the flame explode dangerously close to Jerry’s face. “Especially when we keep cauterizing the wounds.”

“You ever been burned by a blowtorch, Jerry?” Avi asked. “It’s my brother, August’s, second favorite tool for torture. It can melt the skin right off. Smells kind of like barbeque.”

“Oh, God,” Jerry whispered.

“God can’t help you now, Jerry. Tell us what you know about the game master.”

Avi took the torch from Jericho and brought it close enough for the skin on Jerry’s shoulder to blister. He gave a bloodcurdling scream then said, “Okay! Okay. Okay. I’ll tell you what I know.”

Avi killed the torch. “Well, we’re waiting.”

“He’s not local. He lives on some fucking island out in the middle of nowhere. When the game ends, the winners get invited to his private island. He doesn’t tell us his name, and I don’t know if he even lives there, but I think he does because his security system is fucking bananas. The highest of high-end gadgets.”

“The winners?”

“Five players, five kills. The winners get a week on the island.”

“That’s it?” Zane asked. “My brother was tortured and killed so you could sip fucking fruity drinks on a goddamn beach? This wasn’t even for money?”

Jerry snorted. “Money? No. This is for bragging rights, pride. Do you know how many years the military trains men to do what we do? We’re elite. We can change people’s realities. Make them think or do anything we want. We owned them. They were our slaves.”

“Who is he?” Zane asked through gritted teeth.

“We don’t use names.”

“If you’re so fucking smart, I guarantee you’ve figured it out. Who the fuck is he?” Zane asked again. “Tell me or I let them burn you alive.”

“Okay. His name is Frederick Deetz,” Jerry said, voice panicked.

“What? That can’t be right,” Atticus said.

Jerry nodded. “Oh, it is. It took some sleuthing, but it’s definitely him.”

“Who is this guy?” Asa asked, still holding onto Zane.

“He owns Gecko Games,” Atticus answered.

“The video game company?” Avi asked.

“Yeah, he and Dad have been in the same room more than once. He doesn’t live on an island, but he definitely has enough money to own one. This one might almost be too easy,” Atticus said, sounding disappointed.

“I don’t care as long as they’re all dead. I want the handlers, too,” Zane growled.

“I can’t give you those. I don’t know them. I figured out Deetz because I had free range of his house. The others simply went by code names.”

“Does he have a staff on that island? Security?” Asa asked.

“He did when we were there, but I don’t know about any other times,” Jerry said. “That’s the truth. These players come from all over the globe. Russia, China…literally everywhere. You can shut down the game, but you’re never going to find the other players. It’s just not possible to track them all down.”

“Do you believe him?” Zane asked Asa, his heart squeezing like it was in a vice.

“I do,” Asa said. “But we can keep going until you’re satisfied.”

“It’s just not fair that he gets to die quickly when he tortured my brother for weeks,” Zane muttered, voice shredded.

“We don’t have to kill him quickly,” Atticus said, like he was discussing the weather.

“What do you mean?” Zane asked, looking from him to Asa and back again.

“As long as he has fluids, we can keep him alive for weeks,” Atticus clarified.

“It’s not safe to have him stashed out here,” Jericho retorted.

Atticus shrugged. “Not above ground, maybe. An extra large pine box, a six-foot deep hole, some IV tubing, and a trip out here daily to change the bag, and we can keep him alive for anywhere from twenty days to two months depending on how long it takes him to starve to death.”

“What? That wasn’t the deal!” Jerry shouted. “You can’t be serious.”

“How will you know when he’s dead?” Zane asked, mulling the idea over.

Would it make him a horrible person? Did he care? Wasn’t this an eye for an eye? He tortured Gage for a month. Why shouldn’t Jerry experience the same level of horror?

Atticus gave that same bored shrug. “I’ll know for sure about a week after I stop the fluids, so really, the choice is yours. You can decide what day he finally dies. Until then, he can lie around underground with nothing but the insects and his thoughts while he slowly rots.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Zane asked Atticus.

“One of us is always out here anyways,” he said. “Besides, you’re family.”

Zane’s heart felt like it would explode in that moment. He looked to Asa, who nodded. “It’s your choice, Lois. I can’t make it for you.”

Avi stepped forward. “If he’d done this to my brother, I’d put a dive mask on him and stake him to the bottom of the lake so he could be eaten alive. You’re a lot nicer than me.”

For some reason, that was all Zane needed to hear. “Do it. Fuck him.”

Jerry’s screams rattled around the cabin until Jericho injected him with something that knocked him out. “Transports are easier when they can’t fight back.”

“Come on, Lois. Let’s go home. We’ll figure out how to deal with the game master tomorrow.”

“What home are you going to?” Avi asked.

“The city. Are you coming?”

Avi shook his head. “Can’t. I got a work thing with Felix and he’ll shoot me if I miss it.” Both Jericho and Asa stared at Avi for a long moment. “What? I said it’s a work thing.”

“You own the company,” Asa reminded him.

“Maybe. But he kind of owns me,” Avi said. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Oh, he does,” Jericho muttered with a snort.

“See you at home,” Asa said, leading Zane out the door. “Are you sure you’re okay, Lois?”

Zane wanted to say he was fine, but he wasn’t. He turned and threw his arms around Asa. “I’m not fine. I’m not fine at all.”

“What do you need?” Asa asked.

Zane looked up at him, eyes pleading. “I need you to make me forget everything but you.”

Asa gave a stilted nod. “I can do that.”