rebounded dully off the floor before it became still. Lancer nodded to
herself. Dodging the piles of dirty laundry and overflowing black trash bags,
she walked down the short hallway. Two closed doors to either side, a bathroom,
lit by a dim bulb over the water spotted mirror, lay at the end. She sincerely
hoped that she wouldn’t have to go in there. The nasty den was bad enough. Even
though her form wasn’t exactly solid, walking on what was sure to be a pee
covered floor still grossed her out.
The door on the right held nothing. Probably belonged
the kid she’d already aced. Inside the other room was more dirty clothing and a
queen sized bed holding three sleeping bodies.
For crying out loud! Lancer thought,
exasperated. Does everyone in this cult dig threesomes or what?
Two heads of dyed hair, both the odd shade of blonde
associated with discount store coloring products and inexperience, poked out on
opposite sides of a young man with long black hair. The room smelled bad. A
combo of old pizza, sex, and malt liquor. Eau de class, to be sure. At least
the kid’s robe was clearly visible, hanging on a plastic hook glued to the
wall. It appeared to be the only thing in the room that was tidy.
Annoyed and uncertain, Lancer stood, trying to work
out how to remove the guy without waking the two girls. She wanted to avoid
waking them up. Screaming might bring others, keeping her from finishing the
job. The conundrum was solved as Wilhelm’s voice spoke up in her head.
“Fuck it!” he exclaimed. “Let them see! Let the two
sluts spread it around the campus and the internet! The end result will be
marvelous!”
She grabbed the cultist by the ankles and ripped the
little shithead from his bed. One quick change of direction slammed him ass
first into the wall. He struck a stud dead center. His ass made nearly perfect
craters in the drywall to either side of it. The two girls sat up, still half
drunk. They were totally unaware of what was happening. One let out a shrill
giggle.
Lancer allowed the boy to get to his feet. He stood
half hunched over, clutching his injured gooch. She jabbed a thumb deep into
his eye, feeling the wet hollow touch the top of her hand as it jammed all the
way in. He slapped a hand to it, bellowing out in pain. The bitch who’d found
this situation humorous a moment ago let out a soft shriek.
Next came the right ear. Lancer ripped it free of
the skull, slightly surprised that it came completely off like plastic ones
that had come with her old Mr. Potato Head doll. She looked at it for a moment,
noting with disgust a large glop of wax in the inner lobe. With a spastic
motion borne of sheer ick, Lancer flung it into the face of one of the girls.
Both screamed in unison.
Meanwhile, the kid was stumbling around, hands clasped
to the bleeding holes in his head. Lancer forked two fingers into each of the
bastard’s nostrils and yanked upward. A red, gaping hole now replaced where the
nose should’ve been. He wailed in pain, trying to cover all of the wounds at
once.
Gripping his wrists to prevent him from hiding the
damage, Lancer whipped him about so that the bitches could see what she’d done.
They went a shade of white. One fainted. The other slid down under the duvet to
shield her from the gruesome scene.
One final touch. Lancer thought.
She released her grip and took a new one on his neck. With a deep grunt of
effort, bones broke and muscle twisted apart. The tough, fibrous tissue
shredded as the cultist’s head was turned completely around backwards.
The world faded out around her in a crimson fog as the
body dropped to the floor.
“Bravo!” Wilhelm cried out in her head. “Now, cut the
head off this snake and come home!”
Lancer found herself staring at a middle aged woman
sleeping in a battered recliner. Her robe was draped over a body made obese
with indulgence. A yellow set of dentures sat in a filmy glass on an end table
covered with dust and old paperbacks, most
herself. Dodging the piles of dirty laundry and overflowing black trash bags,
she walked down the short hallway. Two closed doors to either side, a bathroom,
lit by a dim bulb over the water spotted mirror, lay at the end. She sincerely
hoped that she wouldn’t have to go in there. The nasty den was bad enough. Even
though her form wasn’t exactly solid, walking on what was sure to be a pee
covered floor still grossed her out.
The door on the right held nothing. Probably belonged
the kid she’d already aced. Inside the other room was more dirty clothing and a
queen sized bed holding three sleeping bodies.
For crying out loud! Lancer thought,
exasperated. Does everyone in this cult dig threesomes or what?
Two heads of dyed hair, both the odd shade of blonde
associated with discount store coloring products and inexperience, poked out on
opposite sides of a young man with long black hair. The room smelled bad. A
combo of old pizza, sex, and malt liquor. Eau de class, to be sure. At least
the kid’s robe was clearly visible, hanging on a plastic hook glued to the
wall. It appeared to be the only thing in the room that was tidy.
Annoyed and uncertain, Lancer stood, trying to work
out how to remove the guy without waking the two girls. She wanted to avoid
waking them up. Screaming might bring others, keeping her from finishing the
job. The conundrum was solved as Wilhelm’s voice spoke up in her head.
“Fuck it!” he exclaimed. “Let them see! Let the two
sluts spread it around the campus and the internet! The end result will be
marvelous!”
She grabbed the cultist by the ankles and ripped the
little shithead from his bed. One quick change of direction slammed him ass
first into the wall. He struck a stud dead center. His ass made nearly perfect
craters in the drywall to either side of it. The two girls sat up, still half
drunk. They were totally unaware of what was happening. One let out a shrill
giggle.
Lancer allowed the boy to get to his feet. He stood
half hunched over, clutching his injured gooch. She jabbed a thumb deep into
his eye, feeling the wet hollow touch the top of her hand as it jammed all the
way in. He slapped a hand to it, bellowing out in pain. The bitch who’d found
this situation humorous a moment ago let out a soft shriek.
Next came the right ear. Lancer ripped it free of
the skull, slightly surprised that it came completely off like plastic ones
that had come with her old Mr. Potato Head doll. She looked at it for a moment,
noting with disgust a large glop of wax in the inner lobe. With a spastic
motion borne of sheer ick, Lancer flung it into the face of one of the girls.
Both screamed in unison.
Meanwhile, the kid was stumbling around, hands clasped
to the bleeding holes in his head. Lancer forked two fingers into each of the
bastard’s nostrils and yanked upward. A red, gaping hole now replaced where the
nose should’ve been. He wailed in pain, trying to cover all of the wounds at
once.
Gripping his wrists to prevent him from hiding the
damage, Lancer whipped him about so that the bitches could see what she’d done.
They went a shade of white. One fainted. The other slid down under the duvet to
shield her from the gruesome scene.
One final touch. Lancer thought.
She released her grip and took a new one on his neck. With a deep grunt of
effort, bones broke and muscle twisted apart. The tough, fibrous tissue
shredded as the cultist’s head was turned completely around backwards.
The world faded out around her in a crimson fog as the
body dropped to the floor.
“Bravo!” Wilhelm cried out in her head. “Now, cut the
head off this snake and come home!”
Lancer found herself staring at a middle aged woman
sleeping in a battered recliner. Her robe was draped over a body made obese
with indulgence. A yellow set of dentures sat in a filmy glass on an end table
covered with dust and old paperbacks, most
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