Sometimes there are worlds we shouldn't venture into, despite how closely the ties run with us, because sometimes there is more danger in knowing than in the unknown.
SATe is an organisation that operates outside of the Government, hunting and surv...
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A hand pressed against a cheek under the warm glow of fairy lights ought to be a passionate thing. That occasion doesn't tend to occur whilst tied to a chair, badly beaten and drooling blood.
The golden-haired man with gauges on his arms and rope burns on his skin was struggling against the flesh of another—the fireplace burning beside him, giving him slight glimpses of a wicked expression.
The alcohol-soaked rag that had been stuffed into the man's mouth was burning the edges of his lips, leaving him in a constant drowsy state, unable to grasp the situation at hand fully.
The superior man had been gently rubbing his thumb over his tear-stained cheek, leaving the inferior shivering. The man standing tall above him was peeling a layer of skin from his own face; the familiar reflection of a man transforming in his eyes.
"I went through all of that trouble of making a perfect clone of your skin, and it was all for nothing, Matty." The man had said, shaking off the suit he'd made in Matthew's image. As he steps out and stretches his own form out, he'd reached out across a table in front of the burning fire and grasped a large device with a short needle at one end.
"They didn't even ask about you. It didn't even cross their minds to ask where I'd put you," Scraud had gushed, stretching his arms above his head as tears run down Matthew's face. The Avvon found the whole thing peculiar but couldn't complain about that part of it; it certainly left him with an asset, or so he thought.
"I was so careful. Yet here they are, reversing my work," Scraud had spoken carefully as he roughly tilted his victims head by the chin, "I guess they had help."
Scraud takes his time pressing the metal device into Matthew's neck as a clear liquid is injected into his system. His free hand moves to his head in a swift motion, taking a firm grip of Matthew's hair. The beaten man is pulled forward as Scraud brings his face in close.
"Let's make taking you worth it, huh, Matthew?" The Avvon snarls his words, the colourful lights lighting his face as he grins abhorrently.
An unwilling, horrifying, muffled scream leaves the man's mouth.
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epilogue [n] - a final or concluding act or event.
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