The killer stared at the knife in her hand, and wondered how this could ever have happened. How could he have been bested… by a girl?
“Wow, you really came prepared, bucko. So bloodthirsty. I’m impressed. Definitely the guy for the job.” The young woman strolled the length of the wooden table, studying the various array of weapons and torture devices–knives, rope, cat-o’-nine tails, a metal bucket filled with water, a dirty towel draped across its handle. But the power drill with a box of six-inch screws–that was her favorite. She picked up the drill, weighing it in her hand like Shylock’s gold. “This seems fun. And all these plastic sheets–really shows your dedication. When you have a job to do, you’re committed. I like that about you.” Continue reading