Below Board
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The streets ran quiet on this day as the people stayed home from their latest yet appropriately weary holidays. Few souls could be seen as even the air sat still with a surprisingly cold sun hovering above the city.
By now, it would’ve been hard to say as to where the fate of San Mateos would lie. So many had been exhausted by the never ending tide of drama and intrigue which so often permeated through both the dreary neighborhoods as well as… the country, if one is being honest.
First, it was the usual. Liars fighting liars with those too selfish to see past their own noses being the only ones to ultimately call the shots. The city, unfortunately enough, had been going through a bit of a recession lately. So many businesses had been closing down with many more left uncertain as their ends began growing harder to meet.
Typically, it was only that which catered to the most simplistic of demographics who survived. The large supermarket chains and fast food franchises. But even then a few had made the hard decision of relinquishing their once prosperous hold over the people. With so many rumors and instances of gang violence… It was becoming hard knowing where one could even sit down and enjoy a well-earned rest with their friends and family without having to worry as to whether or not they would be… gunned down one day. Or worse.
But as for the lesser known and heaven forbid, niche markets? Most were becoming nonexistent as too many of the local populace had begun to simply… disappear.
The tailors, for example. A noble profession which sadly struggled to remain relevant in any part of the country. Most simply got their mass produced clothes off the Chinese made racks. Who could ever have the time to seek out any garments both well designed and painstakingly crafted to fit a now admittedly dwindling audience?
There was a store, hidden off in a forgotten part of the city. It tended to cater to those who longed above all else to partake in the living versions of their beloved childhood stories. Reenactors and lovers of history. Few stores could ever hope to match the love the owner of Joyce’s Emporium put into her garments.
The soft fabrics, golden needles and pretty buttons… If it weren’t for the blood, this would be quite the place to order a dress from.
The woman howled as she tried to run into the backroom, for so long she had dared to be so brave. She had rescued the others, sheltered them from harm… And now as she saw her own arm be slit apart, with her own life pouring away… She never thought she’d be the sort to second guess herself. Oh, but how the assassin wished to challenge her heroic sense of self-worth.
Another cut, and then a stab to the back of her shoulder with one of the needles that had brought her such joy… Joyce simply attempted to slam the door behind herself before the would-be killer’s hand stopped it from closing at the very last second. And though the pinching of her fingers may have hurt as well… little stopped the vicious thug from swinging the whole slab of wood back before reaching in to grab onto her prey.
“Let me go, let me go!” Joyce begged in agony as she was slung out into the main room and down to the floor. As she rolled and as she smashed her face against the side of her decorative fireplace... Little effort was being spared to bring a kind and courageous woman like her to injustice.
“Help… Help!” the poor Joyce sobbed and now barely got at as she eventually and very slowly started to try and crawl her way towards the nearby exit. The streets, the people… would no one come for her? Was the large and vacant parking lot of the strip mall which had offered her such convenience… now to be her death sentence? If only the fast food joint next door hadn’t been shut down in such a hurry.
For a moment there was no more fighting, one might have been deluded into thinking the blunt of the attack had passed. As the delirium and draining pain set in… Yes, one could hope it would not get worse before it inevitably did.
“Come here, you bitch.” Skylar hissed before leaning down to grab the woman, soon flipping her onto her back. Their eyes met… Joyce could scarcely believe it. All she had wanted was to…
“So, where’s the merchandise?” Kallianira then asked as she stepped out of the backroom, knocking over a large ceramic figure on the cashier’s counter as she did so, if only to degrade and intimidate. Not that she had any blood on herself yet. Rather lazy of her perhaps, having chosen the rear entrance so Skylar would be forced to do most of the work.
“And don’t think I mean all the overpriced bathrobes. If you’re a good girl and give up the sluts then maybe we’ll bury you in a big, fluffy wrap.” she mocked.
Her mother’s statue…
“The sluts?!” Joyce then instinctively snapped back, regardless of the blood, tears and torment. She herself had seen it all, she herself had seen them all… bleed, cry and suffer into her arms. The women in the basement, the young girls and even her own family. Her dear sister before she passed… and all because of…
“They’re women! And you… You’re women! You’re women, how could you do… How could you do this, you godless monsters?!” Joyce simply shouted out, even hopelessly trying to kick or swing a fist… But it was no use, she was on the floor and there was nothing more she could do. It was too little and too late, despite the sacrifices she had made. Those women, the girls… they had been found and would now be put back in their proper place.
Kallianira didn’t care, rather… She enjoyed it. And as for Skylar? She had a job to do, didn’t she?
“Yeah, we have cunts, glad you noticed. Come on, we’ll show people what happens when you try fucking with the Coterie.” Skylar unsympathetically said before reaching out for the nearby hot iron poker. The fireplace itself may have been fake and lovingly used to add to the establishment’s cozy atmosphere but as for the heavy tool… it certainly felt real enough.
“Fuck yeah, clobbering time!” Kali then explained with a great and twisted smile before picking up a weapon of her own. The two assassins then stood by each of Joyce’s sides before readying themselves for their inevitably grisly duties.
The weapons were raised up high… before the pain truly became excruciating. Blow by blow and bone by broken bone, the pokers crushed and tore into the woman as her flesh was quickly turned into a burgundy fabric of its own.
Lacerations, mutilations… Teeth were pushed into the gums and fingers flew off onto the now scattered piles of keychains and unused zippers. The face was misshapen, the flesh was pulled from its muscles and even the tears began to stop as the bone began to jut out of the eye sockets. One by one, the strikes caused Joyce’s body to tremble and contort as she slowly but surely began to lose her resemblance to that of a human being, now little more than a blotted stain on the carpet.
But, of course, this brutality was simply a means to send a message. And so, when Skylar felt that the Coterie’s will had been properly spelled out for any others who wished to be obstructive, she tossed away the poker before pulling out her gun. Kallianira wasn’t even done beating the woman herself when suddenly…
Six shots. Each in quick succession, if only to ensure there was no chance left for Joyce.
“Da… Damn, Skylar. Brutal, ain’t ya?” Kallianira chuckled before throwing her weapon as well. The smoke from the barrel hadn’t even cleared before the indigo girl simply stepped back over to the door to the backroom.
“What else is new? Come on, they’re in the basement. Can’t believe you didn’t see the false wall.” Skylar bemoaned as her friend shrugged before following along.
“I told you, brah… I’d let you handle this one.” Kali snickered. And what else was new with that?
“Right here.” Skylar said soon enough as the two killers stood behind a rather odd section of the backroom. Yes, a false wall which hid a way down into the basement. It wasn’t anything eccentric, nor did anyone have to pull a book from its case in order to trigger an opening mechanism. Instead, Skylar simply tore off a few hanging beads before ripping through a thin sheet of tapestry.
“After you, blueberry milkshake.” Kallianira chuckled again as she went through the hole.
The boards of the stairs creaked as the women shifted their weight on their feet. With each step they took, the world around them turned appropriately dark, as if the very light knowingly receded in anticipation of the now resurging nightmare.
At first, there were whispers and then… the sobbing. All those women who had been trapped… beaten, raped and tormented beyond any reason or sense had risked so much with their escape. Sisters, daughters and mothers left behind… or killed in the attempt. And all for a return trip that would include no fanfare and even less respect.
Kallianira could smell the pain… as Skylar could see today’s to-do list vanish before her eyes.
Another door awaited them, this one had been locked. But even then, it was of little consequence as the pair simply tore their way through. The splinters flew across the air with each of the sickening blows. The metal shards cut those who had been unfortunate enough to stand nearby as Skylar even attempted to shoot the lock with that one bullet she had left.
There were screams, there was panic and agony in each of their eyes. The women, all those helpless souls who would now, at best be slaughtered where they stood. Like animals, fit only to be degraded and destroyed. Some were as withered as could be, yet some were as young as thirteen. They all stared at the monsters which now blocked off the path to salvation, and replaced Joyce’s kind and utterly selfless vissage with that of an abomination.
And yet, whatever remained of the light still shone behind them, illuminating the killers’ bodies, as if taunting the innocent…
“Hello, angels.” Kallianira promptly smiled, so sadistically far off from her own… redemption. And then?
“Guess who’s back?”