karma police,
i've given all i can;
it's not enough.
i've given all i can,
but we're still on the payroll.
this is what you get,
this is what you get,
this is what you get
when you mess with us.
Dar had done the job well. The priest had been neatly tied and packaged from where the thief had kidnapped him, gagged and blinded while he bounced around the back of a dirty van; it saved Sin's men from listening to the pained moans after Dar had cut the man's balls off. At this point, they weren't sure if he was still muttering prays or cursing for the end of their lives.
It was raining heavily by the time the van pulled up to the back of Peccavi and they began to haul the priest out of the van; he left drops of blood in the alley, melting the dirty snow along with the rain. He whimpered and the voices of his captors echoed down the long, narrow staircase that lead to the basement of Peccavi.
"What th'hell did this poor f*cker do anyway?"
"F*ck if I know. Last I knew, the sinner had himself a deal not to mess with the church folk."
"Ain't th'last time he broke a deal with those pricks. F*ck 'em, says I."
There was a grunt of hoarse laughter as one of them 'accidentally' smacked the priest's head against the bottom stair and he moaned his pain into the saliva-slicked gag of rot flavored rag. "Where's he want 'em?" The first asked, and movement paused.
"The Dungeon. I think his mongrel's gonna be taking care of this one."
"Salvador? Poor f*ck. I've seen his work.."
Movement began again, only for the sound of metal on metal as a small cage was unlocked, perhaps big enough for a dog but certainly large enough for a tied up priest; they tossed him inside uncerimoniously and locked it behind him, only pausing to whip the blind from his eyes.
The Dungeon was aptly named. At first it could have been mistaken for some strange hospital: there was a surgical table off to one side with sterile lighting above it with all the tools of the trade, bags of IVs off to one side. However, that was only the beginning. Looking around revealed the instruments of torture, some ancient, some new or simple, that constructed Sin's trade. Stacks of cages that were better suited for animals served as the last living quarters for those who were unfortunate enough to find themselves within Peccavi's lowest level, a place where few exited once they entered.
The priest's eyes welled with tears as fear enveloped pain and adrenaline went pumping through his veins. The two thugs who transported him in the van moved away; he tried to call to them, beg for mercy through the rag that gagged him. They ignored him, turning toward the stairs where they shared a laugh over some profane joke; their conversation echoed until they both disappeared, leaving the priest alone in his prison. But not for long.
When the sinner arrived or how was hard to say. The echo of footsteps seemed to appear out of nowhere until a pair of combat boots appeared in front of the cage, pausing before the priest. They were attached to a man who appeared to be of Spanish descent, curly haired and gray eyed, dressed in black with a sympathetic smile. He crouched down, unlocking the cage as he spoke. "Hello," he rumbled quietly. "I'm sorry; you must be having a very awful day.." The cage door swung open and Sin peered at the man with a curl of a grin. "Now.. I'm going to remove that gag of yours and ask you some questions. If you don't answer them, I'm sad to say I'm going to have to make your day that much worse. Understand?"
Sin waited until the priest nodded dumbly. He reached inside and the man shrunk in fear as Sinjin pulled the gag away and smiled. "Now," he murmured. "Where shall we start? How about this--"
Sin's grin inched wider. "Tell me everything you know about Fre Pietr."
i've given all i can;
it's not enough.
i've given all i can,
but we're still on the payroll.
this is what you get,
this is what you get,
this is what you get
when you mess with us.
Dar had done the job well. The priest had been neatly tied and packaged from where the thief had kidnapped him, gagged and blinded while he bounced around the back of a dirty van; it saved Sin's men from listening to the pained moans after Dar had cut the man's balls off. At this point, they weren't sure if he was still muttering prays or cursing for the end of their lives.
It was raining heavily by the time the van pulled up to the back of Peccavi and they began to haul the priest out of the van; he left drops of blood in the alley, melting the dirty snow along with the rain. He whimpered and the voices of his captors echoed down the long, narrow staircase that lead to the basement of Peccavi.
"What th'hell did this poor f*cker do anyway?"
"F*ck if I know. Last I knew, the sinner had himself a deal not to mess with the church folk."
"Ain't th'last time he broke a deal with those pricks. F*ck 'em, says I."
There was a grunt of hoarse laughter as one of them 'accidentally' smacked the priest's head against the bottom stair and he moaned his pain into the saliva-slicked gag of rot flavored rag. "Where's he want 'em?" The first asked, and movement paused.
"The Dungeon. I think his mongrel's gonna be taking care of this one."
"Salvador? Poor f*ck. I've seen his work.."
Movement began again, only for the sound of metal on metal as a small cage was unlocked, perhaps big enough for a dog but certainly large enough for a tied up priest; they tossed him inside uncerimoniously and locked it behind him, only pausing to whip the blind from his eyes.
The Dungeon was aptly named. At first it could have been mistaken for some strange hospital: there was a surgical table off to one side with sterile lighting above it with all the tools of the trade, bags of IVs off to one side. However, that was only the beginning. Looking around revealed the instruments of torture, some ancient, some new or simple, that constructed Sin's trade. Stacks of cages that were better suited for animals served as the last living quarters for those who were unfortunate enough to find themselves within Peccavi's lowest level, a place where few exited once they entered.
The priest's eyes welled with tears as fear enveloped pain and adrenaline went pumping through his veins. The two thugs who transported him in the van moved away; he tried to call to them, beg for mercy through the rag that gagged him. They ignored him, turning toward the stairs where they shared a laugh over some profane joke; their conversation echoed until they both disappeared, leaving the priest alone in his prison. But not for long.
When the sinner arrived or how was hard to say. The echo of footsteps seemed to appear out of nowhere until a pair of combat boots appeared in front of the cage, pausing before the priest. They were attached to a man who appeared to be of Spanish descent, curly haired and gray eyed, dressed in black with a sympathetic smile. He crouched down, unlocking the cage as he spoke. "Hello," he rumbled quietly. "I'm sorry; you must be having a very awful day.." The cage door swung open and Sin peered at the man with a curl of a grin. "Now.. I'm going to remove that gag of yours and ask you some questions. If you don't answer them, I'm sad to say I'm going to have to make your day that much worse. Understand?"
Sin waited until the priest nodded dumbly. He reached inside and the man shrunk in fear as Sinjin pulled the gag away and smiled. "Now," he murmured. "Where shall we start? How about this--"
Sin's grin inched wider. "Tell me everything you know about Fre Pietr."