Contains violent themes, torture, murder and coarse language. Viewer discretion advised!
"The rainy days most save for, seem to arrive during the vacation." - Nero
These tourists are starting to piss me off, with their constant questions and complaints. I should have never accepted the job, but shit happens I guess. We traverse through the rough foliage, me leading ahead with my Tijuana Machete. They take pictures of everything, at all angles possible. Mercenary work is hard these days, especially when trying to guide a group who can't even handle the heat, but the man who hired promised a good fee. Their arguing and I notice a building roof, just over the horizon.
"It's just up here."
They stop arguing and look at me, then realize we have made it. We step closer to the steep terrain and we ascend. I leap up the erosion, but the girls are having trouble making it up. I turn to the blond girl and extend my hand, she hesitates but finally grips, then I haul her up. We all gather in the slight clearing on the top. We see what was once a popular 1940's era cafe and bed. Though now it seems to have decayed and is docile. Everybody moans and begins to freak out, but I keep my calm.
The group head inside the cafe, but I decide to do some prospecting since the day is still young. I toss a man named Daniel my spare radio and head into the bushes. Question after question was thrown at me and I was glad to have a few minutes by myself.
Suddenly, as if it was dug on purpose, I fell into a deep, dark trench and landed hard. I should have watched my step. Being in the SEALs, I knew how to take a fall, but the sudden movement surprised me to quickly and I landed roughly. My ankle felt numb and I knew it was bent. I shouted for help but I must have been out of earshot, and the embankment was too high to climb from a prone. So I headed in a circle shape, hopefully to find the edge and make it back up the embankment.
As I'm crawling, I felt a sharp nudge at my chest, so I rolled to the side to see what it was. A grayish object protruded out of the dirt and I gripped it. I was able to pull it out, but threw it away when I realized what it was. It was a bone. I brushed at the dirt and found the remains, human remains! This was a death pit! I quickly scrambled out and caught my breath.
I looked to my side, and there were heads! Buried from neck to toe! Fear entangled me and I panicked. Who would do this? I then spotted what seemed to be a settlement in the distance, and as I looked closer, a man noticed me! He shouted something at me and ran in the opposite direction. I doubled back bent over and hunched trying to relocate the cafe. But a large stamped of boots upon boots caused me to turn. A man tackled me to the ground and turned me on my back.
"IMPERIALIST! COLONIALIST! FUCK!"
He bashed my skull and I tried to defend, but he was too fast and bludgeoned me, I went into a daze and began to blacken out.
"Where'd this Fica come from, huh?"
"I don't know, Renzo, he was just down by the headyard there and we spotted him."
"Well, we will find out soon enough, C'mon pretty princess, wake up."
I nudged at his unconscious body, but decided to let him sleep. I ordered my men to chain him up and throw a party for him, we have never had an on-land visitor in years! They hoist him up and lay chains on his wrists, pulling them tight enough to bruise. I call for my men to get the rum and the weed, we shall party, but not me, no no, I will wait until this man is awake.
I grabbed a bottle of bootleg vodka out of our cooler and began to twist the top, but our captive made a sound and he shivered. I let out a groan and feinted the vodka in his direction, dousing him in the substance. He realized where he was and tried to screech, but I slugged him with the bottle. He began to sob. He sounded like a wounded animal. No, he sounded more than that; like someone fighting to live. After being brought into a sadistic hell, he began to snap. He violently struggled and I laughed at his attempt. He still continued struggling until he ran out of all the emotional and physical strength he had.
He fell into another motionless stance and slightly swung back and forward on the chain. I've had enough of nap time. I stepped toward him and landed a fist on his cheek, which caused him to writhe with pain and regain consciousness.
"Wake, Up, Little, Boy." I stated in his ears, spit landing around the rim. "Look at me!" I shout, gripping his hair and wrenching it back. "This is MY island, Renzo Salvatore, the RULER of this island! There's no vacation on my island, finocchio!"
He coughed as he tried to breathe and pleaded again. I released my grip and moved it to his neck, lifting him higher and causing him to gargle his own blood. We had tied his arms to the support beam of our shack with chains, and he hung by them by his toes. My men laugh and continue to party as I reach into the man's pocket and found a device.
"I knew you weren't here alone, who's with you mio fratello?"
"WHY THE FUCK WOULD I TELL PIRATES, YOU MOTHER FUC-"
I slashed my rusted combat knife across his cheek, leaving a deep, jagged slice on its passage. He screamed and writhed viciously, startling the chickens in their cages, and my men with their spoils. He started to breathe fast and his eyes where if they would leave his head. I turned my back to him and sheathed my blade, and I looked at his device, puzzled by its design. A bright red button on the side caught my eye, so I pressed it but quickly released it. Instantly, a voice from the device started, and I turned my head with a grin at the man we held captive.
"Tyrone! Was that you?" The voice said, "why did you have mute on?"
I raised my hand for silence and our captive was repeating nos to himself. I clicked the red button again and raised it to my mouth to speak, but the captive interrupted me.
"DANIEL RUN NOW! IT'S PIRATES!"
I swiftly turned and unsheathed my combat knife once again, leaving my finger on the red button. He tried to apologize but I didn't care. I drove it into his thigh, just above the knee. He let out an ear-splitting shriek which caused the voice on the other side to gasp. The captive spat in my face causing me to tilt my head to the side. He started screaming with violent gasps of air between his words.
Chapter 3 (Tyrone)Edit
"OW! YOU FUCKER, YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"
I reached out my hand to one of my soldiers and twinged my fingers then pointed to the sawn-off on one of our tables. He nodded, and quickly tossed me the shotgun. Tyrone realized this and started to shake violently on the chains, spewing nonsense into my ears.
"I'M A NAVY SEAL, I WILL NOT COMPLY!" He shouted.
"You American, think you can just come to MY paradise, My slice of seclusion here at Huga Island, and what? Piss your territory?" I responded calmly.
"THIS ISLAND Is SUPPOSED TO BE DESERTED SINCE THE SECOND WORLD WAR!"
"Well, fratello, it isn't."
I placed the barrels on the tip of his wound aiming down, and twisted it to cause pain. He writhed and began to shout. I pressed the red button again and giggled to myself.
"So help me, I WILL KILL YO-"
I fired, allowing two full-slug cartridges to eject out and onto the wooden flooring, slowly bouncing on impact like a dance across the floorboards. Tyrone stiffened and lifted his legs from his toes, violently grasping his hands and gasping for air, he shrieked out of air. Realizing the sawn-off was filled with duds, Tyrone was left shocked with disbelief. I let out a chuckle and twirled the shotgun around my finger before tossing it back to my man. Tyrone raised his voice at me, again.
"AARRRH oh shit, AHHH! YOU ALMOST SHOT MY LEG OFF YOU FUCKER!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
He cringed his face and slumped his head and began to sob, his tears mingling with his blood on the cabin floor. I lifted his head up with my finger still on the button, and I covered his mouth, then raised the shotgun to his forehead.
"I WILL KILL YOU, THEN I WILL DRAG YOU TO HELL AND KILL YOU AGAIN, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DISRESPECTFUL MOTHERFUCKER!"