The Satan's Savages Series Box Set

by K E Osborn

  “I swear, I don’t know anything.” He glances up to the right again and I furrow my brows.

  Mad Dog nods letting his chin go and turns to look at Chops. He grins and pulls over a trolley with a blue cloth draped over the top. I internally cringe not wanting to know what’s underneath, but what I do know is that I’m going to find out. He peels back the material to uncover a set of stainless steel surgical tools. A shudder runs down my spine as they glisten in the dim lights shining down from above.

  “What the hell are they for?” the Mexican asks shaking his head from side to side like he’s refusing to admit he knows they’re for him.

  Chops smiles and picks up a scalpel, he brings it up to his eyeline and twists it from side to side. The sight even stops my heart.

  “They say that reattaching the amputated part of a finger is a long and complicated surgical procedure. Sometimes it can’t even be done.”

  The Mexican pulls his wrists hard on his restraints as he struggles in the chair. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Chops looks at Mad Dog and he nods. Chops takes the scalpel and grabs hold of the Mexican’s hand bringing the blade down in line with his pointer finger.

  “No, please! No. I swear esé, I swear I know nothing.”

  Then maybe this will jog your memory.” Chops brings the Scalpel down and slices straight through the guy’s finger at the top knuckle just below the nail. His piercing scream slices through me as I feel his agony while watching the tip fall lifelessly to the floor and the blood ooze from his finger. He moans out in pain as he struggles in the chair. Chops lets his hand go.

  “You fucking cocksucking motherfuckers. I don’t know anything. I told you. I don’t even know why I’m fucking here, and you’re chopping off my fucking finger? You guys are fucking loco.” He breathes harshly in and out of his nose and rests his head back on the seat. I take a deep breath trying not to let this get to me.

  I’m conflicted.

  I want to hate this, but I’m kind of enjoying it at the same time.

  I want to let this guy go. And yet something in me—my training—is telling me he knows something. It’s the way he looks up to the right when he talks, that’s a sign of lying. I think he knows more than he’s letting on.

  “I think you know exactly why you’re here. You’re lying. You keep looking up to the right. You’re breathing heavily. You definitely know something. The way you’re over exaggerating the fact you know nothing. How you’re pleading about your family. You looked up to the right when you talked about them too. I don’t think they exist. I think you’re full of shit. Getting your fucking finger sliced off is just the beginning for you… esé,” I say.

  He glares at me and huffs, as Mad Dog chuckles and Chops nods like he’s impressed. He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and takes in a deep breath. “I’m still not talking. Don’t mock my accent or language again amigo, ‘cause when I get out of these restraints, I’ll fucking gut you like the el cabrón you are.”

  Something washes over me. Anger. Annoyance. I’m not sure. I lunge forward clenching my fist and slam it into his jaw. The sting of his jaw bone against my knuckles reverbs down my hand as his head slams to the side and Chops laughs as Mad Dog places his hand on my shoulder.

  “Easy Stealth, it’s your first time. Just watch for now.”

  Breathing hard, I glare at the Mexican, who’s now smiling at me, which only intensifies my anger while harsh breaths move in and out of my nose.

  “You pissed him off! You know what happens when you piss off one of Mad Dog’s men?” Chops asks and the Mexican shows his teeth with a broad grin.

  “You have a Kumbaya and a group hug? Maybe a kiss or two?”

  Shaking my head, I take a step back as Mad Dog chuckles and slaps Chops on the back. “Go for it Chops, this guy’s a fucking wankstain.”

  Chops grins and puts down the bloodied scalpel. Instead, he picks up a pair of plier looking tools. Mad Dog chuckles and nods stepping up to the seat and grabs a black head strap from the back of the chair. The Mexican struggles moving his head from side to side, but Mad Dog grabs his head and slams it back against the metal, the thud making me jump slightly as the Mexican groans, stopping all movements. Mad Dog places the strap around his forehead tightening it, so his head is held firmly in place.

  “Now that gold tooth of yours, is it real or plated?” Chops asks.

  The Mexican takes a deep breath moving his jaw from side to side and then spits toward Chops, it misses and lands on the concrete.

  “Now, now. That’s disrespectful. I think we’re being quite polite to you so far. You could, at least, answer our questions.” Chops smiles at him maniacally, his eyes twinkling with delight at the pain he’s going to inflict.

  “I ain’t telling you shit.”

  Chops nods. “That’s what I thought. It’s plated. Shame… would’ve been nice to have made some money from you. Oh well.” Chops looks at Mad Dog, who smirks leaning in grabbing his jaw and pulling it apart for Chops to gain easy access. Chops picks up a metal thing and starts to wrench it, it opens wide and he shoves it into the Mexican’s mouth so he can’t clamp his jaw shut. Mad Dog still holds his jaw even though the clamp is in there just in case. My stomach twists at the thought of what’s about to happen. But like Mad Dog said, if I can’t stomach this, then I’m not going to be by his side, and I need to be. I’ve got to stick this out. Chops moves in as the Mexican moans and tries to struggle against Mad Dog’s grip. Chops moves the pliers into his mouth and grips onto the gold tooth to the side of his mouth at the top.

  Taking a deep breath, I want to look away so badly, but my eyes deceive me and stay focussed on the torture. Chops begins to wiggle the tooth from side to side while the Mexican moans in agony. Blood trickles down from the gum, and Mad Dog snickers as the squelching sound of the tooth tearing from the gum turns my stomach.

  “Almost there…” Chops declares as the moans from the Mexican become loud and grating on my nerves.

  As Chops pulls the tooth free from its confines, blood spills to the back of his throat. He gurgles trying not to swallow the blood that’s pooling in his mouth. Mad Dog pulls the clamp free and he and Chops jump back from the Mexican quickly, obviously knowing what happens once you let go. He immediately spits the blood from his mouth. It doesn’t go far, mainly splattering on his knees and dribbling down his chin onto his naked chest where now, I notice scars that look like bullet wounds.

  This guy’s no family man.

  “You guys are fucking loco motherfuckers. I’m going to kill each one of you with my bare hands once I get out of here.”

  Mad Dog laughs. “You’ll never step foot back on this premises, I can promise you that.”

  “Then I’ll get you when you’re off site esé. Either way, you three are dead men. Seis pies abajo!” He spits out some more blood.

  Chops shakes his head. “You’re still not going to talk?”

  “What do you want to talk about? The weather? Politics? Your mama’s pucha?”

  Mad Dog clenches his fist and slams it into the side of the Mexican’s face. A loud crack resonates through the Chop Shop, he groans in response and then his chest moves up and down in laughter. “You will get nowhere with me.”

  Looking at Mad Dog, he’s furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw. I think he’s getting sick of this guy’s blazon attitude. If he doesn’t talk soon, I’m sure his torture is only going to get worse.

  “Right, enough of this shit. Who’s José? And who’s his employer?” Mad Dog asks.

  He shrugs and spits out some more blood. “No puedo hablar Inglés.”

  Rolling my eyes, Chops and Mad Dog look at each other furrowing their brows.

  “You can speak English, you dipshit. Don’t play games, or we’ll play them harder!” I demand.

  Mad Dog looks at me nodding his head like he’s proud that I understood the Mexican. In my line of work, I’ve heard that line plenty of times before.

&
nbsp; “Who does José work for?” Mad Dog asks moving in, shoving his fist into the still bleeding finger.

  He moans out breathing harshly through his nose as he grits his teeth. “I’d rather go deaf than tell you anything about José.”

  Mad Dog pulls back smirking. “Ah, so you do know José then. And going deaf, eh? We can arrange that if you won’t talk.”

  “Go your hardest esé.”

  Closing my eyes, my body slumps wishing he hadn’t said that. This guy’s asking to be killed. Although I’m pretty sure, he was never coming out of here alive anyway, but he’s just going to make the road to death a hell of a lot more painful if he doesn’t cooperate.

  Chops picks the scalpel back up and moves to his side. The Mexican’s eyes move to the left as he watches Chops. He smirks as he grabs hold of his ear.

  “What the fuck hombre. I didn’t mean it literally!”

  Chops laughs. “Sorry, what? I can’t hear you?” He then brings the scalpel down behind his ear flap and begins to hack at the membrane with his scalpel.

  A shudder runs down my spine as the Mexican screams out in sheer pain as the scalpel slices through his ear detaching it from his head. Yes, this won’t make him deaf, but it will absolutely cause a lot of pain. He squirms in the seat and his moans start to quieten as Chops pulls his ear away and throws it on the floor with the tip of the Mexican’s finger.

  “There. They make quite the pair together on the floor there don’t they? But things are better in threes, I think? Don’t you think?” Chops asks.

  “Oh, yes, definitely! Three isn’t a crowd at all,” Mad Dog agrees.

  “What the fuck. No. No more. Please esé.”

  “Then tell us what we want to know about José.”

  He exhales and his body slumps. “Okay. I’ll tell you what I know. Word on the street is José is working for someone big. I don’t know his name, I’ve never met him. But my gang, the Ingratos, are working the streets for them. We supply the local gangs and thugs with their guns and drugs, and it keeps them happy.”

  Mad Dog exhales and nods. “Who’s them?”

  “I don’t know. That’s all I know, I swear.” He looks up to the right, I huff and shake my head.

  “He’s lying again.”

  Mad Dog looks at me and nods. “Chops, make the duo a trio.”

  “No, no, please!” he calls out as Chops moves into him with a scooped shaped object. I wonder what it’s for, but then Chops moves two fingers to hold his eye open one above and one below his eye socket and I know this is going to be gruesome.

  “No, not my eye. Please.”

  But Chops doesn’t hesitate and plunges the scoop into the Mexican’s eye socket. His scream is louder than any of his previous. My stomach churns and bile rises in my throat, but I keep it down.

  I hate this, but I love it.

  My heart is racing as my mind is torn in two directions.

  I should hate every second of this shit, but in some twisted as fuck way, I want the damage done to this guy. I want the intel, and I want him to suffer for being an arrogant arse prick.

  I don’t know who I am anymore.

  Blood pools down his face as liquid oozes from the socket too. A slight popping sound makes me swallow hard as the eyeball falls out of his socket and dangles lifelessly against his cheek. Clear liquid mixed with blood oozes from the now open eye socket as the Mexican is now eerily quiet. All moaning stopped, and just his harsh breathing can be heard in the room along with mine and the rapid beating of my heart.

  “You still awake, amigo?” Chops asks slapping his leg.

  He jolts slightly and swallows hard. “Si… barely.”

  “Maybe this will wake you up. Off to be in the land of three,” Chops says grabbing some scissors and severing the strands holding the eyeball to his face. The Mexican groans and jolts as the eyeball drops onto his lap and then rolls onto the floor with his finger and ear.

  “Now, maybe we have jogged your memory. I repeat… who are they?”

  The Mexican swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “The Cartel.” All traces of sarcasm and aggression are gone from his voice, and now he’s only talking with lackluster defeat.

  My back stiffens and a cold sweat runs over my skin. The 5113ers said they would come after us. I guess they weren’t lying.

  “Fuck!” Mad Dog runs his fingers through his long hair and turns toward me clenching his jaw. “I suppose we knew this was coming.”

  I nod as Chops grabs a large knife from the bench and looks to Mad Dog. He nods and Chops looks down into the Mexican’s remaining eye and smiles. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  “Can I go now?” the Mexican asks.

  Chops nods. “Sure, I’ll just undo your head restraint.”

  I furrow my brows wondering what the fuck is going on, as Chops moves behind the Mexican and loosens his head restraint. He flexes his neck and looks over to Mad Dog.

  “I won’t tell the Cartel I was here. I swear.”

  Mad Dog nods and smiles. “I know.”

  Chops brings his hand up containing the knife and shoves it straight into the Mexican’s neck. Blood splatters out all over Chops’ shirt. The Mexican gurgles, the blood pooling in his throat as his artery pumps it out of his system quickly.

  I thought it was too good to be true.

  Taking a deep breath, I watch as his head falls to the side gasping for air as Chops twists the knife slowly in his neck.

  “C’mon let’s get a beer. I have some thinking to do.” Mad Dog slaps my shoulder and turns around walking toward the staircase. Taking one last look at the mangled Mexican, I figure it won’t be long before Jigsaw gets to him, and there’ll be more than three body parts on the floor.

  Chops pulls out the knife as he smiles wide. “Enjoy your first time, Stealth?” he calls out.

  “It was a wild ride,” I answer and turn needing to get the hell out of here. My feet hit the black stairs and they feel like lead weights. Sure, I’ve seen people die before. Hell, I watched it when the 5113ers came in all guns-a-blazing, but this was different. I feel like something in me is irrevocably changed forever.

  For the worse or better? I’m not sure yet.

  Only time will tell.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  We traipse up the stairs to the clubroom, and when we arrive the top of the stairs the guys are all laughing as Penetrator and Lookout are sitting at the bar staring each other down with the rest of the guys surrounding them. I look at Mad Dog, who rolls his eyes and shrugs, walking off to the assembly room by himself. I turn and stride over to my brothers to see what the hell is going on.

  “Ready?” Crash calls out.

  Lookout and Penetrator both say, “Aye,” putting their elbows on the bar for an arm wrestle.

  “Place your bets!” Crash announces, and everyone starts putting their cash on Penetrator’s side. But Lookout, even though he’s strange, his muscles are huge. I know where I’m placing my bet. I place a twenty down on Lookout’s side.

  “Thanks, bitch! At least, someone knows how this is gonna go down. And I love going down, especially on men.”

  Everyone laughs as Lookout glares at Penetrator. “Hold up! What do the participants win?” I ask and they both look at me and smirk.

  “Yeah, what do I win?” Penetrator asks.

  “I think we should pick your prizes,” Crash announces and everyone else nods.

  “Yeah, if Penetrator wins, Lookout has to be his bitch for a month. Basically his slave,” Crash declares. Everyone laughs as Lookout slumps his body and huffs.

  “Fuck me, motherfucker. My prize better be fucken good,” Lookout states.

  “If Lookout wins, he gets to dry hump Penetrator doggy style against the pool table while we video it and put it on YouTube!” Ryder declares. We all laugh, except for Penetrator, who shakes his head.

  “No way, fuckers.”

  “Yes way! That’s the best motherfucken prize I’ve ever had. That’s the deal or this whole thing
is off,” Lookout says moving his arm into position.

  Chuckling to myself, I shake my head wishing Steel was here. He would fucking love this.

  “Okay fine! But I’m going to fucking kick your tiny little black arse, Lookout. Ain’t no fucker doggy styling me on the pool table.”

  “Yes!” Lookout calls out as Penetrator grabs his hand and they lock into position.

  “Right, on my mark. First one to put the other flat on the bar counter wins. Ready… and… go!” Crash calls out.

  Their hands clench, muscles tensing, veins protruding, as they both sway from side to side. It seems a fairly even match. My brothers all around me cheer and wave their money around. Penetrator grits his teeth as a smile crosses over Lookout’s face. The hands move over to the side, swaying down, with Lookout’s hand on top.

  Yes! I fucking knew it!

  “Go, Lookout, go. Pound his arse!” I say with a laugh trying to edge him on using the words he’d use.

  He smiles wide as Penetrator groans, his whole body shaking with the losing battle. My brothers are all cheering and egging Lookout on, even though their money’s on Penetrator. Lookout blows a kiss to Penetrator and then slams his hand down on the bar.

  Cheers and exacerbated sighs ring through the clubroom as my brothers all celebrate or mope over the win.

  “Ha! Take that motherfucker. I’m gonna fake rape your motherfucken arse, so fucken hard bitch you’ll be walking funny for a week.”

  I burst out laughing as Penetrator rests his head in his hands with a long drawn out sigh as I collect my money from my correctly placed bet.

  Thank you, Lookout!

  “You’re not really going to put it on YouTube are you?” Penetrator asks. I smirk as Crash pulls out his phone.

  “Abso-fuckin-lutely I am! Now over to the pool table so you can be Lookout’s bitch,” Crash says. We all walk over to the pool table, Lookout with a not-so-surprising spring in his step.

  “C’mon Penetrator, a bet is a bet.” Ryder grabs him by the collar and pulls him off his bar stool and drags him over unwillingly to the pool table.