39. Messiah

"You okay?" I ask.

Angel has been quiet as we drive to the freight yard. Joe is still passed out in the trunk. She nods, glancing around as we drive up to the security gate. The guy at the guard station bends over to look at us.

"Messiah," I tell him. "Tony knows I am coming."

He glances between the two of us then gives a nod before reaching back and flicking the button for the barrier to move up. Following the careful instructions given to me by Tony, I go to the end of the drive and take a right. There are a series of storage buildings behind another chain link fence. A few abandoned cars and campers sit off to the side, and I park outside of door seven.

We don't speak as we get out of the car. I open the metal door of the storage unit while Angel pulls a duffel bag from the back seat. Inside there is already a chair waiting for Joe. If Angel is wondering about the random objects and stains inside the unit, she doesn't say anything. She stands quietly as I open the trunk and pull Joe's body out. A moan escapes him as I let him drop to the ground while I close the trunk.

Grabbing his ankles, I pull him across the cracked pavement and into the unit. Once he is on the floor, Angel steps inside and we pull the metal door closed behind us.

"How do you want to start?" I ask.

For a moment, she only looks down at Joe then pulls her cap and wig off before looking up at me.

"It is weird," she notes. "Having someone else here for this."

"Just do your thing, Baby. I won't get in the way."

I go to a back corner and lean against the wall as she reaches out with her foot to nudge Joe. He doesn't move and she appears a bit disappointed at his lack of awareness.

"What do you need?" I ask, tilting my head toward her.

She clasps her hands in front of her and glances around the room before turning her eyes to me. "Wake him up."

My dick gets hard just hearing that needy voice of hers. My girl wants the fucker to wake up, I'll wake him up. She unzips the duffle bag as I step forward. My boot slams into Joe's side but he only groans. On the second kick, he screams out – eyes jumping open – and I smile, turning back to Angel.

"There ya go."

She gives me a sheepish grin as she twists the knife in her hands. Joe takes a moment to process where he is, then jumps up as he realizes that shit is about to go south for him.

"What the –"

Angel slams her fist into his face. Her faces tense up and she shakes out her hand and she groans between clenched teeth. She threw the punch wrong. I am going to have to teach her how to punch with the proper form. Before she can land another blow, Joe reaches out and grabs her legs. On instinct I leap for him, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him away from her.

"I got it," she snaps at me.

Releasing Joe, I hold up my hands in supplication and step back. She steps forward, kicking the fucker with enough force that blood spews from his mouth. I have to dodge sideways to escape the spray.

"Fucking bitch!"

The anger boils through me, but I take a deep breath and cross my arms over my chest, forcing myself to stay in my spot. I am sure the others didn't die quietly. Their dicks were cut off before they were dead. Knowing the reason for why she is doing this, it makes me eager to hear him scream as she slices that particular appendage from his body. Hopefully, if she is a really good girl, she will do it slowly so he feels every bit of the skin slicing off.

"So, Joe . . . " Angel says, stepping toward him as he wipes the blood spewing from his lip. "Long time no see."

"The fuck?" His panicked eyes turn to me. "You"re that guy." He points a finger, looking anxiously between the two of us. "Whatever it is . . . I didn't do it."

"YOU DID IT!" Angel's screams just before throwing her fist at his eye.

He shouts out in pain this time, the pitiful sound echoing off the metal door and dissipating into the concrete walls.

"I didn't do anything! Please! I have a wife. Kids!"

"How old are your kids?" Angel asks, tilting her head to the side as she looks down at him.

"Fi . . . fuck, five and eight!"

"So, you had two children and a wife at home when you raped me?" she points out.

Fuck. Yeah, she needs to kill him slowly. I move from the corner near them to the other side of the room. Joe looks worried as I step away. Angel doesn't take her eyes off him.

"You had a wife and two children that you went home to after raping me and my sister and then coming back to rape me some more?" Her voice is raising.

I have heard her be snarky. She has yelled at me some, but I have never heard such threat and anger seeping from her as I am at this moment.

"I don't fucking know you!" Joe screams. "Please!"

"River," she states. "Everleigh. Remember them? Remember how you sliced me up, laughed as I screamed and bled? It was you, wasn't it, who fucked me in the ass afterwards? You said you liked the shade of red against my skin. It was ‘my color', I think you said."

I have to take a deep breath to keep myself calm. This is her process. I am just here as her eager little helper. But hearing her explain what he did, even after seeing the video myself, only makes me want to throw a few punches. My hands press against the back of my neck as she steps closer to him.

As Joe stammers for an answer, Angel swings the knife through the air. It slices across his face and he releases a piercing scream. The fucker pisses himself. He lays in a heap on the floor, clutching his bloody face.

Stepping forward, Angel grabs his hair and yanks his head up.

"It was just a job!" he pleads.

"So is this."

When he starts to struggle, she sits her weight on his lap so he can't wiggle away as she clutches his hair and begins to carve long cuts across his face. After the first, I can see the tears welling in his eyes. They aren't just from the pain. My dick gets hard watching as she leans in, finding a piece of unmarred flesh beneath the blood before she takes the knife and begins slicing again.

I lunge forward when he tosses her off him. A small oomph escapes her as she lands against the concrete, but she is already up and back on him before I can reach them. The screams grow louder as she slowly carves pieces of skin off Joe's face. She tosses them aside with a wet splunk and even stops at one point to wipe the blood off the knife's handle so her grip doesn't slip while she is working.

When the pain becomes enough for Joe to vomit, she lurches sideways, groaning as he upchucks on the floor.

"Pwea–" His lips are too mutilated for him to get the words out.

My eyes stay on Angel as she walks slowly around him. Blood covers most of her front and hands. A bit of it is still dripping from the end of the knife she holds at her side.

"Pwease," Joe pleads again.

I take the time to light a cigarette as Angel steps toward him. It is a battle for me to stand in place each time Joe tries to fight her. She isn't a big girl, but she is squirrely enough to dodge most of his attempts to push her away. When her knees ram up into his balls, I wince and raise the cigarette back to my lips. That probably hurt worse than the slicing.

She slides the knife through the fabric of his shirt, ripping it open before planting her knees on top of his hands – pinning him to the floor.

He screams as she slowly carves an R into his flesh, the same sigil she placed on all her other victims. The fight is leaving him, and I can tell she is getting bored with the whole process as he begins to accept his fate. She wants them to fight back. It gets her excited when they do.

With a single kick to the face she knocks him senseless enough to stop fighting for a moment. It only takes a moment for her bloodied hands to unzip his pants and pull out his flaccid little penis. A bit of excitement runs through me as she stretches the member out, placing the knife just at the tip, before she begins to saw away at the flesh.

Joe screams. I am sure this is the moment when he would happily accept death. Then again, if all he wants to use his cock for is to abuse poor girls like my Angel and who knows whom else, the fucker doesn't need it. His knee comes up as Angel is slicing away, slamming into her face and knocking her sideways. I clear my throat, dropping the butt of my cigarette and stomping it out with my boot as I keep myself in place. I want to help her. Every time he puts his hands on her, it makes me want to slice a few pieces off myself.

Angel rolls over, holding her sore nose as she slams her foot into his face.

"Baby," I caution, looking down at her as she holds her face and presses herself against the bloodied ground.

"I'm okay," she mumbles under her bloody palms.

After another moment, she pulls herself to her knees and looks for the knife. Once she finds it, she wipes the blood off on Joe's tattered clothes before continuing her sawing. Once she has removed his dick from his body, she turns around to show him. It is a bit comical the way the floppy appendage wiggles in her hand as she waves it in front of his face.

"Hope your last nut was a good one," she comments.

Joe coughs on the blood pooling in his throat from his busted nose. I can see the brown iris in his eye disappear as his pupils widen at the sight of his cock in her hands. Using the tip of the knife as a lever, she pries open his jaw and stuffs the cock into his mouth. Her fingers delve deep into his gullet as she pushes it as far back into his throat as she can manage. Once placed, she moves the knife and covers his mouth and nose with her hands. She is sitting on his chest, her knees on either side of him, as she leans forward to put her weight into holding her hands over his airways.

He doesn't suffocate quickly. It takes about a minute for him to realize his air is gone. It is another minute or so of him fighting – the effort bit by bit leaving him – before he falls still. Angel doesn't move.

"He is dead, Baby," I point out.

"No, he isn't," she sighs. "Just passed out. Takes a few minutes for the brain to die."

How quick of an internet search was it for her to figure that out?

When she feels confident that enough time has passed, she leans up and rolls off him. The floor is a bloodied mess. So is she. It is going to take some time to clean up the bits of Joe that she tossed around the room. We came prepared for a mess. She told me it was usually a bloody process. Then again, I had seen her previous crime scenes and was aware of what I was getting into. I am just a shocked by how much a fucker can bleed. Bullet holes may blow open a skull, but usually it is a bang and done type job for me.

She stands up and looks around, walking toward the duffle bag. She bends to reach into it but stops when she sees how bloody her hands are. When her eyes turn to me, I smile and move toward her. I open one of the bottles of water from inside the bag and rinse off her hands. There is already a drain installed into the corner of the unit, we just have to rinse the blood in that direction. The room was built for messes like this. Like I said, a well oiled machine.