Page 78 of After the Chase

“Do I want to play with someone’s blood like I’m a child using finger paints? No…no thanks. I prefer the old style kills, not this fucked up shit. I don’t know how you can touch the stuff like that.”

“You sound like the one with a problem,” Lev says, with a look at confusion over Marcus’ comment.

“No, I’m really not as I’m not crazy,” Marcus says.

“Stop lying, you can be sadistic, I’ve seen it before,” Ethan says as he wipes his hand on Vincent’s shoulder and walks back over to stand next to Marcus.

“Normal sadistic. Not psycho sadistic, it’s not the same.”

The room goes silent again, except for a few sniffles from Vincent before Ivan strikes again with the Shredder, this time along Vincent's thigh. The spikes catch and tear, leaving deep gouges that bleed profusely. Vincent's screams have become hoarse, desperate pleas for mercy that none of us will grant.

"He's crying," Ivan observes, his voice distant, detached from the moment. "Tyler cried too in the ambulance. I heard him."

Another strike. Another scream.

I watch with interest, noting the progression of Vincent's deterioration. The way his body is shutting down from shock and blood loss as his pleas become incoherent. There is a change to the smell of the room, the pungent aroma of blood and sweat.

Lev continues filming, his expression impassive. I would say he is starting to get bored and I won’t lie, I am too. I need to get back to Chase. I look around at all of us, predators in a concrete room, united by savagery and mutual understanding.Ivan, consumed by possessive rage. Ethan, finally feeding the beast he's kept caged. Lev, watching everything with cold focus, and me, observing it all with a detached appreciation.

Evil men doing evil things, and none of us feel remorse.

Ivan delivers the final blow, driving the Shredder directly into Vincent's throat. Blood sprays on the concrete floor, and Vincent's body convulses once before going still.

Silence.

Ivan stands there, breathing heavily, looking like he has bathed in a vat of blood. His eyes are wild, unfocused. His tongue piercing glints in light as he licks his lips in satisfaction. He's somewhere else, lost in the madness of what he's done, the adrenaline high of avenging Tyler.

Slowly, he comes back as his breathing steadies. His eyes becoming clear.

"It's done," he says quietly, looking over at me.

"Yes," I agree.

Lev stops recording and reviews the footage briefly. "Dima will be pleased. This sends the right message."

"Forward it to me," I say.

He glances up. "If you wanted your own copy, you should’ve filmed it yourself."

"Just send it to me you jealous fuckface."

“Jealous? Me? Fuck off.”

“It’s okay if you want to be like me, you know,” I say, purposefully wanting to rile this fucker up. I’m sure he is trying to growl at me as he frowns.

“In your fucking dreams you arrogant asshole.”

“You mean in your dreams, you arrogant fuckface.”

“Oh my god, can you just be friends? You’re just being stubborn now,” Ivan says as he takes off his glove, cleaning himself up.

“He’s the one who started it!” Lev shouts and Marcus laughs.

“I love you guys, seriously love you. But I gotta get back upstairs, just let yourselves out and we will deal with the mess here,” Marcus says as he leaves with Ethan following him.

My phone pings and I look down to see a copy of the video on my phone from Lev.

“What does Chase want that for anyway? Didn’t think he liked shit like this, being a therapist,” Lev says, and I scoff before texting Chase I’m on my way back to him.