Prologue
Sinn'ous
Assassin.
Murderer.
Serial killer.
Psychopath.
Insane.
Titles, it’s all anyone wants to know.
So many words, all connected. All describing the same person.
Sinn'ous doesn’t describe himself as such—sure, if he wants to fuck with someone he’s about to kill he’ll use them. But he isn’t any of them. He’s just . . . Sinn'ous.
He has always been fascinated by death. Plunging himself headfirst into death’s dark depths which others avoid.
He loves to kill, relishes in it. It’s all he’s ever known, a lover’s caress to tingle his spine and send sparks of life into his cock.
Crass, he knows. But deliciously crave inducing.
Pulse points to nick, rivers of blood to spirt and flow. To drown the world in the glorious liquid calling card of death.
HIScalling card. Satan.
Ave Satan, give me strength, allow me to make it through my stint and emerge out the other side unscathed. Allow my freedom of these bars caging my physical form.
Sinn'ous sends downa prayer to the one truedeity all should follow.
Sighing when he recalls the words spoken to him by the irritating voice of his lawyer. It rattles through his head, telling him not to kill anyone, to keep his head down and serve his time.
‘Don’t make waves, it’s better to be in a minimum security prison than be moved to max.’
He’s sure his lawyer will disapprove of Sinn'ous’s thoughts, his itching need to suffocate his cellmate who had the bright idea to snore through the entirety of lockdown. Mouth open and dog breath escaping.
Sinn'ous arrived yesterday and he was discarded straight into this cell. Where he saton the empty bunk and hasn’t moved since. If he moves he will bring the pillow with him. If he moves he will suffocate the man whose mouth is wide agape. If he moves death will follow.
Satan, give me strength.
The cell is what he’d expect of a minimum security prison. Two bunks on either side of a four meters deep and three wide cell. A short cupboard at the head of each bunk, the doors on the cupboards are a surprise. The faded mirror made of a hunk of odd-shaped metal, over a scratched metal sink, next to a tea-cup sized toilet, was not a surprise.
Alarms tickle his mind, soothing his inner beast, it knows the sound is the call of escape. Freedom from a cell that has one too many people in it.
The cell’s door rattles and unlatches, its mechanical lock shutting down, allowing Sinn'ous to leave—should he choose to do so, however, staying in his cell would ensure he avoids making waves. But then he wouldn’t be handed any opportunities to kill anyone.
Although . . .
A laugh threatens to run rampant at the notion of avoiding confrontation, and at the idea which sprouted. He has never turned his back on an opportunity to spark an aggressive reaction and provoke an outburst in another in order to procure their death.
The entire cell block has hyped into a call from the wildest of jungles, animals scurrying free to squawk and fight. To assert dominance and flee.
An entire collection of warm bodies to snuff out. One of which is right here.
“Heyyyyyyy.” A throaty voice of someone who has gurgled nails draws the word out to an unnecessary length, grating on Sinn'ous’s self-control. Then his cellmate follows it up by turning those blood shot eyes over, and squinting in his direction. Not a thought between the eyes, and a blank drugged-out stare.
