Click Here for the audio version narrated by Chaos Theory Productions.
Tayne stared in shock at the bloody stump that protruded from his left knuckle, the single stub that was moments ago his index finger, pumped a steady steam of liquid life over the scarred wooden table it was held pinned against.
“I want my money Tay.” A smooth, quiet voice whispered from across the table. Tayne began to reply, but faltered as his gaze locked to the white skinned finger that had fallen to the floor as it was forcibly detached from its other four friends. The skin had begun to wither and prune as it absorbed the moisture from the pool of blood it lay in, which left it looking oddly worm like. Tay blinked.
“Tayne Halmar… I want my money.” A flash of pain wiped out all thought as something struck him across the cheek, his face stung painfully, he could feel it begin to grow hot as the blood raced to the injured area. Tayne blinked once more. Mercy stood before him, her gorgeous emerald eyes smouldered with an unchecked fury, her palm still held out flat as she recovered from her own slap. Who would of thought, someone so damn pretty could be so bloody mean.
“Mer-“ He began with a slur, the shock of losing a finger had fortunately only half sobered him up.
“Get me my money Tayne.” Mercy snapped, his words cut off before they had even began. Just as well, for all her namesake, Mercy wasn’t one for Mercy and what he had been about to say was nothing but an excuse. “Four days Tayne. You’ve got four days.” She paused as her emerald irises locked to Taynes Muddy brown’s. What does she want? He thought to himself as he desperately tried to think through the drunken haze. Ah! The drunk nodded enthusiastically. Acknowledgement. Mercy nodded in return as she wiped the hand she had used to slap him with, down the front of her hooded cloak with a disdainful expression on her face.
“And have a wash.” The girl’s face wrinkled around the nose as she stared in disgust at Tayne’s ragged apparel. Tayne frowned a drink induced glower. Admittedly the old leather trousers had seen better days, with holes at each knee and so many stains that the original colour of said trousers was an absolute mystery. But, his shirt was a beauty! Pure silk, won in a game of cards the other nigh- Wait. Where was his shirt? Tayne stared in confusion down at his grubby bare chest. His entire left side coated in a thick layer of scum, probably where he had fallen over drunk in some grimy alleyway.
Ah right. Tayne sighed as he remembered. He’d lost the shirt as well as Mercy’s money in that same damn game of dice. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.
“Four days Tayne. Otherwise it wont just be a finger I remove.” The room spun as Tayne snapped his gaze back to Mercy, a red lock the colour of his blood that still spilled over the table, fell loose from under the moss green hood as she nodded to the brute that held down his wrist. The giant of a man grinned a gold toothed smile as he nodded back, before he slowly turned his gaze to Tayne himself. With an evil glint in his eye, the man took hold of Tayne’s hand with his own. His lips peeled back as his smile grew wider, to reveal that the entire row of his teeth that lined his lower jaw had been plated in gold.
“Four days.” He repeated in a voice so deep, it sounded like a mountain being moved. Then without warning the gold toothed thug snapped Tayne’s wrist. In Tay’s defence, he didn’t scream. He didn’t even shout. The last thing he remembered before the darkness consumed him, was the tail end of a moss green cape as Mercy left the room.
“Four days…” drifted on the air behind her.
Click Here for the audio version narrated by Chaos Productions.