30/7/18 - Just editing a few mistakes that have been bugging me, no big changes here lol
Chapter 16 <> Heinous Acts
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The outskirts of Riverdale were very much worth exploring if given the time. There were a plethora of unsolved mysteries dating back centuries, but the Ghoulies were focused in on a more recent relic. Unknown to many, an old storage warehouse for the Maple industry lay hidden behind overgrown wood. It had clearly been neglected for years, as evidenced by the bubbly rust on the metals, and the amateur attempts of graffiti on both interior and exterior walls.
The warehouse was an ideal abandoned structure, having been cleared out before being ignored so that it was nothing more than a large open space with half a roof. It was natural for Riverdale's worst to make use of such a segregated location and it was a picturesque backdrop for the current situation.
Malachai stood right in the middle of the warehouse, decked out in his serious business goggles and usual black punk attire. In his left hand was his favourite switchblade, already soaked in the classic crimson substance; in the right hand was a patient machete, another of Malachai's go to weapons.
CJ stood silently to the left of his leader, dressed in similar black clothing with a squeaky clean baseball bat dangling from one hand and a humorously innocent bread knife in the other (as the guys had gotten dibs on the more intimidating blades before CJ even got a look in).
A group of roughly eight Ghoulies - including Adam - watched on from behind their two leaders quietly, maintaining poker faces throughout Malachai's method of torture. Four men were at Malachai's feet, all groaning in pain as they held hands over the newly carved 'M' on their bare chests. The marking appeared to be Malachai's new calling card and although CJ wouldn't speak up against it, he wasn't totally on board with the idea of leaving an obvious clue on the body of a victim.
The leader of the Ghoulies chuckled to himself as he kicked one of the men in their most sensitive region for the fun of it. The victim of attack howled out in agony; he moved his hands to cup the throbbing pain while retching due to the sudden wave of nausea, unintentionally showing off the wound in the centre of his skinny chest.
Due to the intense reaction, Malachai decided to do the exact same thing to the rest of the men at his mercy and booted the final one so hard that lunch resurfaced.
"You know," Malachai mumbled, letting his words echo ominously as he wiped his switchblade on the bottom of his jacket before pocketing it safely inside. "There's a lotta shit in this world that I hate." He stated while crouching beside the skinny man that he'd kicked in the crotch first. "But there's one thing that I fuckin' loathe more than anythin' else... and that's assholes that try and take my shit without me knowing. 'Cause here's the catch man: I got ears everywhere - they're in the damn walls - and ain't no bullshit like what you pulled ever gonna get past me."
And with that, Malachai snatched the man's right hand tightly and held it up for all to see. Once everyone's attention had zoned in on the limb, he began to methodically saw away at the thumb with the no longer sparkling machete. CJ couldn't bring himself to turn away as the stubby digit fell to the floor with a petty thud, knowing that doing so would be a sign of weakness. If he was to maintain the respect of the Ghoulies, he knew he'd have to make a statement and therefore stepped forward, mentally readying himself to commit another heinous act to add to his lengthening list.
"Bro I'm not gonna lie that's pretty fucking vile..." Malachai paused at the comment, turning his neck slightly to look at CJ with an incredulous frown. "So when's it my turn?" The chirp of imaginary crickets dissipated from the air abruptly and were replaced by a very real - very sadistic - Malachai cackle.
"Do one of each then leave 'em for the boys." Malachai instructed with a proud grin. "Meet me outside when you're done." CJ looked down at the knife in his hand before glancing at the battered men. Kicking a man while he's down was never the right thing to do from a moral standpoint, however CJ knew that good money was coming his way for picking up two of the men that risked stealing from Malachai.
Everyone has a price. CJ Jones was never any different.
So he did the gruesome task without a single complaint, the only notable distaste being a grimace when he noticed bloody spewing out onto his shoes as if it were lava from a lazy volcano. Once the job was complete CJ disappeared outside without looking back and was greeted in the form of Malachai shoving what was roughly eight hundred bucks into the pocket of his scruffy black jeans.
The two left the location in Malachai's red whip soon after, not bothering to wait for the spares. It was a smooth ride back to the Southside with the leader's typical reggae/rap playlist and it was only once CJ reached the House of the Dead that he suddenly became unsettled.
The two had been relaxing in their seats (Malachai smoking weed, CJ treating himself to a cigarette to take the edge off of a brutal job well done) when CJ's phone lit up with a text from an unknown number with an image attached.
When he clicked on the image CJ choked on his cigarette, laughing it off with Malachai and Verne as some unexpectedly good tobacco before glaring back down at his phone, brows creased in anxiety.
Because the image attached was a picture of him only hours ago, cutting off a man's thumb with a knife and an embarrassingly sinister grin. CJ's breaths began to deepen in panic. They'd gone to that location for a reason; they were supposed to be alone... and still he'd been caught in a criminal act.
He backed off of the photo, only to have his heart drop six feet under when he read the text underneath...
