Sing me the Blues (Closed)

Sometimes all you have is song. There is one for every occasion, it is said, one for every mood, every life changing moment that could occur to a person. Then what would best befit the lost, the lonely. The men who find themselves in the perpetual darkness of life, the forgotten places, the unspoken of and undisturbed corners of this modern age where depravity and isolation go hand in hand with dark deeds and meaningless death.

Sal was a lover of music, in life it had sustained him and made all the greatest and depressing moments of his 22 years on Earth that much more. A personification of every emotion that addles the human mind, fills the heart and leads one down the winding road.

In death all he had were the songs. Fragmented memories of the life he had swirling amongst the crystal clear lyrics of bands he couldn't recall hearing, the singers voice touching his very core. Everyones Gotta Learn Sometime...that was playing in his mind now as he sad on a disused fire escape, the rats and homeless moving below in the alleyways and gutters.

"Change your heart, look around you.." He spoke the words, softly like one would to a sleeping babe.

"Change your heart, it will astound you.." Emotion cracked his voice, strange memories and feelings that he couldn't explain tapping softly on his heart. A womans face, one he didn't know but knew without any doubt that he had loved her, that even though his heart had stopped beating years ago the memories of that feeling echoed on through the veil into the afterlife.

"And i need your lovin...like the sunshine.." A tear rolled down his cheek and although no one could see it he swiped it away. It wasn't that he was feeling this way that disturbed him so, he'd had highs and lows for a long time now, it was that he didn't know why. He had the pieces before him but he couldn't figure out how they pieced together. The girl he didn't know but the love he felt for her, eating him from the inside like a virulent cancer.

Then there was the bigger picture, the things happening around him, the mess he had found himself in. The Twelve, the plan. Nikolai killed by that woman. He felt utterly powerless in the face of it all, it felt too big for one man to handle. He mentally slapped himself, berated himself for his cowardice, but it was half hearted. He didn't have the energy nor did he have the heart for it any more.

He looked down the three stories to the rubbish strewn alleyway below, the rain pounding on the tiles above, over flowing from the gutters of the roof in a constant rhythm as it hit the dirty concrete. The men talked amongst themselves, unaware that he had been here for over a year, watching them, knowing them and by proxy protecting them. He'd killed his first human in the very alleyway, something he never imagined when he took those first brave steps into Seireitei.

You've never really seen the brutality of man until you've witnessed rape. He concluded that as his blade was buried deep in the drunks gut. It wasn't the act itself which had drawn such a rage from Sal that night months ago, it was the thrill the rapist was getting from this woman's pleas, her silent tears as his hand was clamped across her mouth to stop her screaming. He was enjoying this, enjoying the humiliation, the indignity of the act...

Sal had gone past rage, past hatred and had found a cold place he never knew he had and only one thought sounded out in that eerie calm. Kill him.

He had, he had not hesitated, it had been a simple act. Draw his Zanpakuto, grab the bastard by the back of his jacket, haul him up and impale him against the wall. He'd watched the colour drain from that mans face, the life bleed from his gut and listened with an intensity that scared him as the heart stopped beating.

Too the woman, bawling and screaming for help, her mascara running down her face in black trails, didn't know what had happened. Her attacker was dead, stuck to a wall by unseen means. Spilling his guts across his Armani jeans.

Something essential dies when you witness such an act, a tiny place inside you curls up on itself and vanishes. The last vestment of innocence from childhood perhaps, Sal didn't know but he wasn't the same person after that night. He didn't look at the world with the same wonder or excitement he once had, it was a grey place now. Filled with monsters more terrible than Hollow or Hybrid. What exactly had he been protecting all these months. Animals, cruel creatures.

Its easy to see humanity from one perspective but if you do you miss out on the goodness that is hidden amongst the filth. The kids playing in the streets, unaware that their life is pretty much fucked before it has even begun. The laughter of friends, the touch of a lover. Tiny insignificant moments that set humanity apart from the rest. It was easy to forget all that but if he did, what was he? He was no longer alive, no longer part of that grand tapestry of life, he held no place in the afterlife. If he forgot that one fundamental part of life, he would simply exist.

"Everybodys gotta learn sometime..." The line complete he fell into silence, the rain a background noise that mingled with the car engines and sounds of the city. The quiet whispers from the bums below joining the subdued sounds that one never really listens to.

The room was Spartan. A bed, a chair and the only thing out of place in this comfortless scene was the TV, flat as a card, stuck to the wall. On it was a middle aged man, Forty at most, his hair once brilliant blonde had dulled with age and the tell tale signs of silver had begun to mingle with the golden locks.

"Does he know?" He asked the young man before him, his face smooth and almost feminine, his hair a deep black, short and styled into the un-kept manner that youths seemed to favour. He looked behind him to the young woman sitting on the singular chair, her hair also black and her face delicate and almost child like, her brilliant blue eyes however told off a much harder soul within. She shook her head at the man and silently a message was exchanged between them.

"He knows only the name of the Twelve. Not your purpose or machinations and he has not linked the mutagen too yourselves or its true purpose." The man responded.

"Everything is going as planned. With Norongachi eliminating the weak we will have a powerful strain ready for extraction and utilization within the month. Keep him under watch however, the man may be as dumb as they come but he has the annoying habit of being in the wrong place at the right time." The obvious superior said to the man and woman.

"As you wish Lord Quinque..." The raven haired boy said with a stiff bow, his hand over his heart, eyes averted.

"It has been a Millennia, Jensen, since the Final Protocol was put in motion. Now we are months away from fruition. One more to our number, we Twelve become Thirteen. One who will lead us into the blessed future beyond the mere fabrics of reality that we see before us. The price is high, the slightest error will cost us everything. Do not fail my beautiful twins, failure will be the end of everything you know." Quinque said with passion and then the screen went dead before its LCD screen cracked and smoke issued from its sides.

"The Thirteenth..." Jensen said almost in awe of the thought. "Hard to imagine that one being could be more powerful than the Twelve." He added, turning to face the woman who's face was as blank and impassive as ever. "Don't you think Claudia?"

"Norongachi is still within the confines of Glasgows East End..." She responded, her words had no sound, they arrived right in your mind without invitation.

"No need to ignore me sis..." Jensen responded.

"When you have something worthwhile to say i will respond," She stood from the chair. "Until then we do our jobs."

It wasn't hard to locate Sal. He had never quite mastered the art of concealing the power that readily radiated from him, making him stand out in this bland fleshy wilderness like a sun exploding. It didn't really occur to him to hide that raw strength that he was notorious for, that was the kind of mentality the Glaswegian had. Such a simple creature, Claudia thought as she and her brother moved along behind him.

"Where's he going sis?" Jensen thought. Claudia's illusions could mask them from sight but sound still proved a problem, luckily both held telepathic abilities.

"His thoughts are...jumbled, mixed up, i think...he's looking for something." The woman said, her perfectly smooth brow creasing just above the bridge of the nose as she tried to comprehend the flashes of imagery and words coursing through Norongachi's mind.

"Something to do with the Twelve?"

"No...its something else, a woman i think. Her face keeps coming into his thoughts."

"He's visiting an old girlfriend eh? Heh, the dog. Afterlife lovin, thats sick man."

"This is very strange....he doesn't actually know her. Thats the feeling i'm getting from his thoughts..." Claudia couldn't quite grasp it. Reading Norongachi's mind was like trying to catch one grain in a sand storm. His thoughts were all over the place, often incomplete and without context.

"Didn't we hear once that when you die, you lose your Memories? Or was that just when you went to Soul Society. I can't remember. Anyway, think its that?"

"Its possible..." Was all his sister offered and they both fell into silence, theirs and Norongachi's footsteps the only noise on this lonely stretch of road leading away from Glasgow.

To their left they spied a pet rescue shelter, the barks of its occupants wafting softly on the brisk night air. They walked for half an hour more, keeping several paces behind their target, until he stopped in front of a house a tenement block, Four flats stacked on top of one another.

"How the hell does he know where he's going?" Jensen asked with a nod of his head toward the Soul Reaper.

"Some things go much deeper than memory, Brother."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"To you, absolutely nothing." Claudia responded coldly.

"What the hell are you doing here mate..." Sal said to himself, staring up at the windows, some dark some with light streaming through the blinds and curtains. "You don't even know which flat it is...her name...fuck i don't even know how i found this place to begin with..." He finished and then deciding that he'd come all this way, entered the close.

The lock was broken on the graffiti covered wooden entrance door, that was the first thing he noticed, the next was the smell, stale urine. Some dirty bastard had obviously taken a leak in here at some point.

He approached the first two doors, facing each other to the left and right with a set of stairs next to the leftmost leading up and another smaller set, three or four steps, to the right that lead to the back court area. The name plates didn't ring any bells. He took the two flights of stairs up to the next landing. Same deal as before, two doors facing each other.

It didn't take long for something to 'click' but it did. H.Gilbert, the small metal name plate in the centre of the door said. That feeling old Deja Vu stirred in him, was this it or had he finally gone stark raving bonkers?

"Now what..." The Glaswegian said to no one. Now what did he do, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

"How long is he going to stand there?" Jensen thought as he and Claudia sat on the stairs watching the brown haired Glaswegian staring mutely at the blue painted door.

"As long as it takes..." Claudia responded, her eyes moving swiftly from side to side as if she were scanning the back of Sal's head for some sign. He really couldn't remember, he didn't know who she was, the name was just an echo...a feeling reverberating from a past life.

"I hope it doesn't take *THAT* long, my ass is getting cold on these stairs." Jensen grumbled and absent mindedly picked a flaking piece of paint from the concrete wall.

Blocking out Jensen had become second nature to her now. They'd been linked since birth this way but they were worlds apart sometimes. It was a cruel fate, to have ones memories stripped from them. Crueller still to have tiny shards left behind, the emotions that would have accompanied them still crying out inside your heart. Like lyrics without a score, just hollow words with no clarity.

"Ya know, i was there as well..." Jensen began, his thoughts radiating concern. "I know what you went through with Shaun..." The mental silence that followed could have swallowed the world whole, the chill that radiated from Claudia could have frozen it solid.

"Don't go there Jensen..."

"I'm just saying...don't let your past get in the way. He isn't you and the girl behind that door definitely ain't Shaun. He's gone sis."

"I killed him, so don't tell me he's gone. I know he is, I can never forget. Ever."

Claudia never got angry, she never showed any emotion since Shaun died. She just closed herself off completely, it scared him, scared him all the time. He kept likening her to a slumbering bomb, one day it would go off and he wasn't sure if he could put her back together again. He rested his head against the wall and watched Norongachi some more. Poor bastard.

How had he been standing here, staring at the name plate like he expected it to do tricks. An hour, two? Sal wasn't sure but when his mind failed once again to answer the query 'what now?' he gave up and turned away toward the stairs.

Fate, destiny or random happenstance made the door open at that precise moment. There she was, his dumb struck mind managed and he stood there, once again, doing his best impression of a statue.

She was 6'2", her hair short, down to her cheeks, and raven black streaked with blond highlights that seemed to make her brilliant blue eyes sparkle like diamonds on her pale face. Her lips were painted a deep blue and aside from that she wore very little make up, some eyeliner and a touch of mascara. She wasn't overly skinny, as was the rend these days, but perfectly proportioned. A tight black top did wonders for her sizable breasts and toned midriff while faded blue jeans hugged her long legs. To put it simply, Sal was drooling.

She held the door opened, light from the hallway beyond streaming into the landing, and for a moment her blue eyes fixed upon the spot where he was standing. Sal froze, more so, and his breath stuck in his throat, his cheeks flushing with blood, before the gaze moved onwards and she turned to look back down the hallway.

"Zara come on." She said, her voice was soft, gentle almost to his ears.

He heard the patter of tiny feet on the laminate flooring and then a little girl came out and ran into her arms. She turned and locked the door.

"Heather..." Sal said, so quietly he barely realized he had spoken it himself. That was her name, Heather, and his eyes fell on the cherub faced little girl with soft dirty fair hair and the biggest brown eyes he had ever seen. His gaze seemed to shift, in rapid succession between them as his mind arrived at a shocking conclusion and like someone had kicked him in the stones with a memory shoe he began to cry.

"Why's that meat head blubbering?" Jensen thought at his sister as they both watched the drama unfold, unseen by all parties.

"She was pregnant when he left for Japan, he's just remembered." Claudia answered, her powers of telepathy homing in on the images flashing through his mind.

"Thats his kid?"

"Yes..." Claudia answered and then after some thought added. "We've seen enough"

Lord Quinque or The Fifth, as he was known to the uneducated let his steely gaze bore into the pair through the video link. Having heard their report on Norongachi's movements he had come to a decision that would destroy the pest once and for all.

"Kill them." He said, plainly.

"Wh-What?" Jensen stammered while Claudia stood mute in the background of yet another Glasgow hotel room.

"Kill them." The Fifth repeated as if he were addressing a child, which, in terms of comparative age these two were.

"But, the kid My lord, she's, like, three years old..." Jensen protested meekly.

"Do not question my wisdom Jesen. There is always a meaning to everything i ask you to do. The death of his former lover and child will send the already unhinged Shinigami into a downward spiral that he will never recover from. He will be a shell, a husk, the will to fight will be drained from him. He will be of no consequence." The Fifth responded.

"As you wish my Lord." Jensen responded to the flat screen TV before it flickered off. "We have our orders sis..."


Quinque looked at the blank monitor for a few seconds more. What he had not told the pair was his true reasoning for the Death Order, that there was a great possibility that Norongachi could join their ranks. Becoming one more Abaddon, a lesser warrior who serve the Council of Twelve, and thus increase the might of their Legions.

Jensen and Claudia did not need to know this however, they were inferior specimens and did not have the dark taint on their soul required for the process. They would serve their purpose however and he would have Norongachi or he would be destroyed.

Was this what ghosts did? Sal thought as he bound, with renewed vigor, across the rooftops towards Heathers home in the Hamilton area just outside Glasgow.
Did they hang around their loved ones, mute to their ears, invisible to their eyes?

He had to admit that since he'd found out about them, about Zara specifically, he had been filled with something he had not felt in a very long time, hope. Yet it was mired by the fact he could in no way interact with them, he was merely a presence in the background. A few times in the past few days since that mind blowing and utterly world changing night he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching Zaras face. The revelation was, to put it mildly, bitter sweet.

Every night, he'd watched her sleep. His little girl, and he still wasn't quite used to thinking that way, blissfully unaware that all around her the worlds were in constant turmoil and he wanted very badly to keep them from touching upon her life as they had his.

He landed on the roof across from Heathers building and his world fell apart. The building was in ruins, the bedroom windows had been ripped away along with a good chunk of the surrounding wall and on the floor of the disheveled bedroom lay heather, her head at an odd angle as she hung motionless in the air, her eyes vacant. Dead.

He wasn't sure when he had started screaming but by the time he realized exactly what was happening his sword was drawn, released without the traditional phrase by sheer emotion, and he was almost upon the pair, the man and the women.

"Mummy! MUMMMMMYYY!" The small voice punched a hole right through his haze of blood lust and stopped him dead, tears streaming from Zara's terrified brown eyes as she too levitated in the air calling out time and again for Heather, who would never answer.

"Don't.." His voice broke with emotion, the words pleading as they escaped his lips and the pair turned their eyes upon him. "Please, i'll do anything, don't hurt her...please" He said and the panic inside him caused his heart to thunder against his rib cage, the adreneline surging through his body urging him onward while fear held him at bay.

His eyes flicked between Zara, the man and then the woman repeatedly and a lump formed in his throat as the emotion welled up again and fresh tears joined the fresh trail sliding down his cheeks and nose.

"Orders are orders buddy" Jensen said and although the casual air was there, even he had reservations about the blamelessness of blindly following this particular command. The alternative however, was not something he was willing to make his sister face.

"PLEEAASS-!" The pleading scream was punctuated by a small noise, but it may as well have been the loudest sound in the world to Sal's ears. Zara didn't move and her tiny thin neck, like Heathers, flopped to the side.

That's when it happened, when the rampaging beast that was emotion vanished like a whisper. Nothing dramatic, no fancy light shows or internal anguish as it went. It just left and where there was chaos there was no a cold, clinical order. That order was kill them, kill them now.

It was a first, to ride into battle with all his faculties intact. More than that, there was no fear of failure, no doubts or second thoughts. They had to die and he would deliver them to that end, there were no two ways about it.

He had half covered the distance between them, in his earlier emotional outburst, and as such had utterly ruined the element of surprise. The pair looked at him with a mixture of surprise and caution. They obviously hadn't expected him, nor were they sure exactly was going on with the one time emotional wreck turned cool customer with a mind like a predator.

"This could be a problem..." Jensen said a split second before a five foot claymore cut the air with a deadly whistle.

The Twins dived out of the way, one to the left and the other to the right, evading the first attack and gearing up for the battle.

Claudia was first yo make her move, mentally commanding a car parked on the street to rise up and then a second to join it. She lifted both hands above her head and with a stony silence thrust them back down again. The Telekinetically controlled motor vehicles snapped upwards with her movement and then plummeted toward Norongachi with a velocity that would have surely killed him.

The Rogue Shinigami rose up to meet the metallic bombardment, bone met metal as he spun upwards into a deft kick to one car and a crushing punch to the other that sent the cars skittering toward the Psychic woman with as much force as they had been sent.

Sal didn't have time to watch the fireworks that ensued from the exploding gas tanks as that casual inner voice whispered Heads up... and Jensen exploded into sight and lashed out with a stunning serious of aerial punches and kicks. What was particularly strange about this, was that he was at least 6ft outside his attack reach,. Even more perplexing still was being hit with invisible hammer blows that left him stunned and baffled all at once.

The cars connected with the remains of the building and flared up spectacularly, sending molten glass and shrapnel metal spraying across the surrounding area, filling the night with a super nova of light and sound that shattered the windows of the buildings closest.

Claudia let her delicate black eyebrows come down in annoyance, creasing her forehead, and watched as the last flickers of fire smoldered into the night, before lowering the barrier she had instinctively placed around herself and joining her Brother in the assault.

Somehow Norongachi was able to predict the trajectory of Jensen's Telekinetic blows, he was effectively evading or blocking them as she sped toward him. She let her senses scan his mind and what she found sent a dagger of pain lancing into her mind as a warning sped along the mental connection between hers and Norongachi's mind. It fell upon her brain like a battle axe and ground its way through her gray matter. It said, in the coldest confident tone she had ever heard.

Mine...

The connection severed itself and as the haze of mental anguish began to lift she found herself snapped back to reality. Jesen was shouting, she couldn't really hear him, couldn't read his thoughts through the squealing static that was fogging up her mind, drawing her concentration inward from the here and now. Slowly she became aware of something, something very important, buried under the psycho-paralysis gripping her body. Pain, that was it.

The other twin came at him from the rear and Sal saw his chance, end it quick, let the blood flow. Claidheamh Mor was only too eager to obey the inner voice and his arm drew back and then snapped forward, the flashing silver point finding her midriff and easily breaking the supple skin, skewering the woman easily and allowing her befuddled mind to fully encapsulate her predicament before he and his inner-friend smiled and hurled her aside, watching her body ping pong across the ground like a squishy ball.

The raven haired telekinetic spun and weaved through the relentless and dogged onslaught of metal that lashed, slashed, stabbed and cleaved their way toward him. The Rogue Shinigami wasn't the irrational, emotional, killing machine that he'd heard tales about. The raging berserker of Seireitei.

Something had changed, he could feel it in his gut, maybe it was something in those dark brown eyes or perhaps it was the manner in which he delivered each attack. Regardless of what had come over Sal after watching the death of his last living relatives he was going for the kill with every strike, and with clinical efficiency.

A overhead slash came at him faster than the rest and Jensen barely got out of the way, the tip of the blade grazing his upper arm and leaving a thin line of crimson to seep through the ripped fabric of his shirt. He spun to the side, ducked another attack, and somersaulted backwards launching out with three consecutive telekinetic kicks that the former Soul Reaper calmly pinged away with the flat of his Zanpakuto.

He skidded to a mid-air stop and then felt for a brief second a squeal of mental anguish and then silence, which scared him more than anything else. He had never had mental silence before, he had never truly been alone in his own mind. He and Claudia had always been connected, able to dip in and out of each others thoughts at will and even when they did not there was always something there, a feeling of another presence linked to your own...now that was gone and he panicked.

"Claudia...CLAUDIA!" He screamed, for the first time in both their lives he had top actually look for his sister instead of just knowing where she was and his eyes darted around frantically before they saw her, coming at Norongachi's back. "CLAUDIA!!" He screamed but her eyes were dulled, he movements sluggish, like she were on auto-pilot and the Glaswegian saw his chance.

Right before his eyes he watched the blade punch through her body and the blood drained from his face, time seeming to slow, dragging out the anguish for eternity before he managed to say her name once again, in a tiny dumbstruck voice and his only response was a perfectly serene smile from Norongachi as he flicked his wrist and sent his sisters body from his powerful blade.

"BASTARRRDDD!!!" He didn't quite recognize the voice as his own, wasn't quite sure who was charging recklessly at his Sister's killer. It were as if he were separated from his body, watching the proceedings from the sidelines.

He sped in, his offense full of openings, and swung a punch and it was only then did Jensen realize that all along Norongachi had been toying with them. In one fluid movement he had captured the offending fist, crushed the fingers to a pulp, dragged him forward and planted a thundering headbutt dead center on his face. All Jensen Saw after that was darkness...

The black haired man fell easily, one blow at full power had rendered him unconscious and Sal let him fall to the rubble strewn pavement and descended down beside the slumbering body.

The inner voice nagged at him, this strange new companion gave its subtle suggestion. Kill him, Make him suffer and for a second Sal's arm succumb to the sirens call, his Zanpakuto rising up a fraction of an inch before he stopped it. It was only at this moment he truly realized he wasn't alone in the confines of his own body.

"What are you?" He thought at the thing, the darkness lurking behind his thoughts and to his surprise he got an immediate response.

Friend... It wasn't so much a voice, or an actual word more a collection of prearranged feelings that gave him the impression of what It was trying to convey.

"Well, friend. We need information but don't worry, he will die....eventually.." Sal said with a smile and grabbed Jensen by the right ankle before hauling him over one shoulder and Flash stepping away from the destruction.

The room was utterly dark except for one lonely bulb hanging in the center of the room. Under it was a table, a workbench that one might use for carpentry or something similar, made of polished steel. On that table was Jensen, his arms and legs spread eagle, a cord of metal running under the table connecting each wrist and likewise with his ankles, while around his waste was a thick wrapping of duct-tape that held him pinned where he lay.

Sal walked around the table, checking the restrains were taunt and capable of holding the powerful psychic. When he was satisfied he stopped at the head of the workbench and peered over the raven haired mans unconscious face.

"Jensen..." He said softly, the man didn't even stir. "Jensen...its time to wake up..." But the man remained unconscious forcing Sal do land a thundering slap right on his cheek. "I said get up!"

Jensen did wake up, he woke up with a start and a half scream, tried to move but found he couldn't and struggled furiously against his bonds but didn't have the strength to break them.

"We're going to play a game, its called 'Why did you kill my daughter...'" Sal said calmly and walked to the side of the workbench and then out of the small radius of light the bulb provided so that Jensen's ears strained to hear what his captor was up to in the darkness.

There was the squeak of ungreased wheels, shrilling quietly in the silence, and then Sal appeared with a small tray set on a table with wheels, on the tray was a vast assortment of tools. The kind you could find on any building site in the world, hammers, saws, screw drivers, chisels, drills...

"You can't...you're a Soul Reaper...You-You're the good guys..." Jensen babbled his panic rising as Sal began to hum a merry ditty as his fingers brushed along the row of instruments at his disposal before his finger tips stopped on top of a screw driver.

"Why did you kill them, they meant nothing to you, they were only humans living a human life. Why did they die?" Sal asked, his back still turned to his captive.

"You're bluffing..." Jensen snarled and settled himself back down on the workbench, his jaw set in defiance.

Sal griped the screwdriver tightly in his hand, so hard that his knuckles turned white as the bone pushed through the skin, and ground his teeth. This was teh first emotion he had felt since he had watched them die and it was as if he had never felt anger before in his life such was the intensity of this feeling. He spun round and lunged at the workbench, the screwdriver spinning in his grip and plunged the metal into the mans shin with not a sound escaping his lips.

Jensen screamed, from shock, from fright and from the pain shattering his mind from the tool driven right into the bone. His eyes darted from it to Sal and back again, repeating the same sequence in so many seconds until he fell back and gulped down a few lungfuls of air and whimpered to the night for a savior that would never come.

"Why...." Sal asked again, finding that as quickly as it had come, the emotion had fled once again.

"I-" Jensen began and stiffed a moan of pain. "I cant..tell...you" He gasped.

"So be it..." Sal responded and turned back to his assortment of hardware. The next sound Jensen heard forced a hot liquid to spill down his thigh and spread out across the table. The high pitched whine filled the small space and stabbed daggers of dread into the Psychics heart. It was a power drill...

Sal approached Jensens upper body and instinctively the Psychic began to struggle, trying desperately to break his bonds forcing his head as far in the opposite direction of that spinning rod of metal as he could. Sal stood over him and in one viscous movement gripped his forehead in one hand and slammed it dead center at the top of the workbench and held it there before placing down the drill and reaching for a pre-made strap which he secured around the Psychics head and then picked the drill back up again.

He revved the drill up a few times, revving with every few centimeters of progress the gray metal bit made toward Jensen's quivering scalp so that the whine was intermittent and louder with every burst to the mans frightened ears.

"OH GOD! PLEASE! HE MADE ME DO IT! HE ORDERED US TO KILL THEM! FRANCE! LOOK FOR HIM IN FRANCE! HE HAS A BOAT IN FRANCE! THE RIVERA! ITS CALLED THE HAND OF GOD! THAT'S THE BOATS NAME!" Jensen screamed as if, and it did, his life depended upon it. "Please...just let me go...please..."

"Thank you." Sal responded quietly and then pressed the drill-bit to the black hair and activated the drill, watching how easily it broke through the scalp and how much blood spurted from such a small hole and all the while his new friend screamed.