Page 31
I’m good at it.
Plus, it reminds me of where I got my club name from.
Returning my weapon to my holster instantly catches Harry’s attention, prompting him to prematurely relax.
His shoulders.
His spine.
Even the sweat seems to slow its pouring.
At least it does until my hunting knife is removed from my pocket.
“First offense,” Dive proceeds to explain, “we’re taking a finger.”
Harry snaps his head back to scream, “Nooooo!”
“Next time,” the gun is jammed back into his mouth, “we take your life.” Pleading around the pistol profusely begins while the always tanned Misfit merely shrugs. “You should consider yourself blessed, dude.”
I lower myself to a squatting position, grab his left wrist, and force his palm flat on the pavement. Naturally, he makes an attempt to snatch it away, but it’s useless. Between the gun in his mouth and my strength – that easily overpowers him – all he’s doing is prolonging the inevitable.
Pinning his hand in place with my boot is followed by the unfolding of my blade. Once more, Harry struggles to keep still resulting in me applying additional pressure to the other bones in his hand. “You’re losing one.” My glare cuts over to his that’s filled with tears. “You want me to break all the others in the process that’s on you.”
Choked sobs around the weapon barely precede him becoming motionless.
In one swift execution, the lightweight, stainless-steel blade is driven through the bone of his index finger, sending cracking noises through the night sky and igniting a new round of howls from the shaking, charcoal suit wearing male. Slamming it down at a slight angle allows for a clean cut and scooting it to the side through his blood that paints a streak of crimson that’ll be much easier to tidy up than if someone less experienced had been given the task.
I’ve had a lot of practice.
Not necessarily on people.
Mainly fish.
Cutting their heads off is similar to a smooth finger slice.
This smells better though.
Animalistic like whines seep free from Harry leaving Dive no choice but to raise his voice in order to be heard, “Rugrat!”
One that had been tasked with moving packages quickly clomps over. “Yeah?”
His head motions to the removed digit near me as I retrieve my lighter from my pocket. “Get that.”
“Get what?”
“That.”
“That what?”
“What do you mean that what?” chuckles Dive. “There’s only one thing to get.”
“The…the…the finger?!”
“Yeah,” he mirthfully replies while I begin heating the metal portion of my weapon. “And do it quickly with your hands before I make you do it with your teeth.”
His scrambling becomes comical pretty much instantly.
He reluctantly reaches to grab it; however, loses possession when Harry screams in objection. The severed finger continues rolling towards the waiting movers who are doing their best to hold in their gags at seeing the man’s appendage drift further and further from his body.
