Beast Unleashed
Icaro waited until Amauri confirmed the car with Chester and Zorah was out of the driveway before he turned back to face Ippocrate Giannone. He met his father’s eyes behind the fat fucker laying on the hospital bed designed for birthing children and knew they were on the same page.
“Father Ippocrate Giannone.” Icaro spoke slowly, his voice calm and collected as he regarded the man who was visibly trembling. “You fucked up, padre. You fucked up in a way I don’t think you completely comprehend. You are a delusional psychopath and you’re going to pay for your screw-ups.”
Icaro gave a tilt to his head as he watched the man with his mouth duct taped shut have his clothes roughly removed by two men who were using knives.
One of the men, a soldier who worked with Orlando, held up a knife, “hey chunk,” he smacked Ippocrate’s face playfully, “this knife is the same one Zorah used to cut everything in this house up. I watched her stab every piece of upholstery with this tiny knife with rage. It got me thinking what could you have done to a woman to make her so rageful she would slice and stab furniture you might have been sitting on.” His knife nicked the man’s stomach as he cut through the shirt he wore, “now, after hearing all this tonight, I’m surprised all she did was stab the furniture. You’re going to get your stuffing pulled out of you the way the sofa did upstairs.”
The men laughed at Ippocrate’s alarm.
Icaro smirked at the man, “Father Giannone, do you know why they call me the Beast?”
Ippocrate’s nostrils flared as the grey duct tape bubbled as he tried to exhale through his mouth.
“Dad,” Icaro waved to his father, “would you like to tell him how you gave me my nickname?”
Dagoberto moved to stand at the side of the man, “my son struggled to control his bloodlust after the death of Zipporah’s lover. See, all he wanted was to go and hold the child who was his one. The one gifted to him by God. He was thirteen and he was violently angry because his heart was torn apart with missing out on every aspect of the life of his one. So, I took him on a job. I thought, maybe he could let out some frustration. I brought him into a warehouse, and he beat a man three times his size into a pulp and nobody, not even me his father, could pull him off. He was out of control and a beast in a child’s body.” He grinned proudly, “however it was what he did when he was done bloodying his knuckles which solidified his name. Maybe a demonstration is in order.” He turned to Icaro, “Icaro, show him why we called you the Beast.”
“With pleasure.”
The group of men all pulled back away from Ippocrate who was now thrashing in the chair despite the ties holding him down. Leaning down to pull a knife from his boot, the silver metal glistening in the light, in under twenty seconds sliced the Achilles tendons in both ankles and then made a series of puncture wounds all the way up the thick legs of the man whose screams were barely muffled behind his gag. Blood gushed from the thirty or so wounds, all of them not hitting a single important artery.
“Didn’t even break a sweat.” Orlando clapped. “Impressive.”
Icaro frowned, “my timing was off. I think my emotions are in the way. Usually I am faster.” He sighed, “maybe I need to try again.” He got closer to Ippocrate, “my wife spent too many years in your care where you abused her and tortured her. I am going to prolong your agony. We’re going to keep you awake. You won’t get to be drugged the way you drugged my bride. You stole her innocence.” A thought occurred to him and a pure evil smile pulled his lips and it was clear Ippocrate was reading his expression.
“What are you thinking?” His father leaned forward excitedly.
“I’m thinking of when he said he was a virgin and how he’d hoped to lose his virginity with Zorah. It would be a shame if he died a virgin.”
“I am not fucking him. I might be the token gay guy in the group but hell no.” one of the guys spoke up earning laughter from the group.
“Nah, I don’t want to rape him. I’m an assassin not a priest.” Icaro snorted at the glare from the one priest in the room. “My wife joked about cutting off his dick but let’s make sure when he dies and goes to hell, his dick and balls don’t go with him. Let’s make our priest a eunuch.”
The man who cut Ippocrate’s clothes off held out the Swiss army knife and passed it to Icaro, “when you cut his dick off the way she requested, I’d be honored if you used this knife. I’ll give it to her as a gift. You never have to tell her of the blood on it, but you can let her know it was what she used to destroy the mattress of the bed upstairs. It can be her memento of her strength today. For us though, in her honor, you can castrate him with this. It might be a bit dull after cutting all the fabric she went through, but I don’t think his pain from a dull knife is a matter of concern, is it?”
Icaro gratefully accepted the knife. “Ippocrate, do you see this? In this room is a small collection of people who are loyal to Zorah. She is the light in our darkness, and you tried to snuff that out. You hired people to steal her from me. You were going to kidnap her and force yourself on her. You’re a delusional, insane piece of shit.” He waved to Orlando, “can you remove the gag. I really want to hear his screams when I chop his cock off.”
Ippocrate screamed, “you won’t get away with this. The bishop and archbishop will look for me.”
“I have a hell of an IT specialist named Doris who drafted your suicide email based on your writing style in all your other emails. They’re going to get it in the morning along with the address to this house. When they get here however the house is not going to be here. It’s going to blow up from a gas leak.” As the boxers were removed from the rotund protesting man, Icaro flicked the knife open. “For Zorah.”
“For Zorah!” the room agreed.
Vengeance was served.
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