un·der·bel·ly
/ˈəndərˌbelē/
noun
A hidden unpleasant or criminal part of society.
"the dark underbelly of a ghetto"
"I do for me and mine how I see fit. Even if I have to wage war against everything in my path." His voice so powerful it felt like i...
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Oakley 'Cench' Caesar-Su Sheperds Bush, UK One week later
I hadn't been in this room since holding Killian for running away when the bodies were found. The rickety chair still sat in the corner, and I pulled it forward to sit across the girl who worked at the club with Killian.
Without her running that large mouth, Killian wouldn't have been taken by Stone that night. And now she had to pay for the time it took me and the guys to find Killian. I carried a bucket of ice cold water and once I saw she was still asleep, I threw it on her. She jolted awake and looked around frantically, her eyes landed on me and I gave a small wave and cheeky grin.
"Hey, how are ya?"
"What am I doing here? Please-" That would do her no justice here, I made my mind up about her already. She would feel how Killian felt, and nothing less, always more.
"Let's skip the pleasantries. I suggest you start praying to whomever your God is." I stood up and dusted my hands off, and the door opened. A2 and Wadz, were bringing in cast iron skillets, fresh out the fire and set them down.
They set them at her feet, and A2 lifted her chair back so her feet weren't on them yet. Heat radiated off of them and a look of terror flashed through her eyes as she frantically looked at all of us. We weren't here to help, this Karma is best served hot. With a side of sizzling flesh. I took over holding her up so she wouldn't touch the piping hot skillets, I dropped her and her feet made contact with the thousand plus degree cast iron skillets. Her screams echoed loudly in the room, and the smell of burning flesh took over the room.
Now she knew how Killian felt.
I pulled her chair back again, the flesh on her feet pulling off as the skin stuck to the skillet. She cried and begged why her, when that wasn't even worth an answer.
Why Killian? She didn't think about her when she was running messages back to Stone.
I grabbed a towel they brought in and some water, placed the towel over her face and poured water on it. I loved enticing the feeling of drowning, the panic that sets them in makes me happy and giddy. I set her back down on the cast iron skillets, and she continued to scream and crying while her flesh cooked on the skillets.
By the time I was done here she wouldn't be a bubbly blonde, she'd be dead.
"See I've always wanted to try this one technique perfected by the Vikings, and I think you'd be perfect for that." I clasped my hands together, and I couldn't stop the smile that displayed on my face. "Have you ever heard of the blood eagle?" I asked her rhetorically.
She shook her head no, exhausted from all the screaming she continued to do. "Ah well that's for me to know, and you to feel."
The blood eagle was a Viking torture method where they would carve open the victim's back, cutting the ribs away from the spine, and then pulling out the lungs through the opening to display them on the outspread ribs.
