47. Messiah

Using a pair of pliers, Angel slowly pulls each of the nails out of Brutus's legs. She gives each one a wiggle before slowly yanking it from his flesh. He tries not to scream, but there is only so much a person can endure. The floor beneath him has become a puddle of red from the blood leaking down his legs and over the sides of the chair.

"So, who was the camera man?" she asks, kneeling closer to grab the next nail.

There is an easy air about her as she picks the nails out. Brutus glares down at her, wincing each time she grips another one with the pliers.

"We just want a name."

I twist the cap on the kettle after filling it with our last bottle of water. When I click the on button for it to heat up, he glances over at me with a worried look. So, the nails don't phase him, but the boiling water does? I guess I can't blame him. Who cares about some thigh scars when their cock is on the line?

"Does he work for you?" Angel continues, dropping a nail back into the box and pondering the ones left.

"What if we start slicing him?" I suggest.

Boiling water on his dick might hurt like a motherfucker, but I bet if she takes that knife to his cock he may squeal.

"Oh, that could be fun," she beams, dropping the pliers.

She walks over to the duffel back and pulls out the knife. Brutus's eyes widen as she slips the blade from its leather sheath and holds it up for him to see.

"Face?" She points the blade at him then tips it lower. "Or cock?"

"Cut his cock off, Baby. He doesn't need it."

"True."

His breathing picks up as she steps toward him. When she leans down to dig his burnt, flaccid dick from his pants he begins to mumble desperately behind the gag. Angel ignores him for a moment as she grimaces and thinks where to grab as she looks at the blistered mess of his groin.

When Brutus begins wiggling against his bond, she huffs and stands up.

"Do you suddenly have something to say?" she asks.

He nods eagerly, his eyes pleading with her for one more moment of mercy. He shouts as she rips the tape off his lips and takes a deep breath while he stares between the two of us.

"I don't know his real name," he says. "The camera guy. He goes by Hollywood on the streets."

"What streets?" I bark.

"Same as mine," he pants. "He pays us to find girls. He posts the videos. That is all I know. I only worked with him a few times, but he . . . he was a bit too extreme for me. I don't know how long the other guys stuck around."

"Where do we find him?" Angel presses.

"I don't know. Corey knew. They filmed at his cousin's place."

I remember the dingy set up at the home where Corey's body was left. Was that where the video was made? Did Angel have to go back there? I recognized the closet at Holden's apartment in the videos. For a moment, I have to step back and calm myself down. I saw the struggle Corey put up when he was killed. I knew Angel was there that day. I just . . . knowing those fuckers were dead – their torment over – wasn't sitting well with me. They deserved more suffering.

"Well, Corey is dead. So, you have to come up with better answers than that," Angel tells him.

His eyes dart back and forth as he leans his head back to think. He is desperate to think of something. Desperate people lie. I step closer to them as we both wait for Brutus to have something else to tell us. When Angel sighs, leaning down to aim the knife for his dick, he snaps his legs closed and begs her to wait.

"He does more than videos!" he shouts.

"What he does isn't going to help if we don't know who he is," she grinds out, her patience waning.

"It might, Baby," I tell her.

She glances over her shoulder at me then sighs as she throws up her hands in defeat and steps back.

"Tell us every detail you know," I say, reaching back into my pocket to take out my phone.

"He does black web videos. Nasty shit. Brutal shit. He goes by Hollywood on the streets. His car is odd, not the make, but the color. It is a purple chevy coupe of some kind. Old piece of shit." He pants as he tries to think of more while I tap the notes into my phone.

"What does he look like?" Angel asks.

"He had a beard, but he shaves it sometimes. He . . . I don't know, he is just an average guy!"

Angel turns back to me and I finish typing the notes before I glance up at her.

"How often does he show up?" I ask.

"He . . . I don't know. He just appears when he wants to. Sometimes, he has heavy drops to sell. I never bought from him. Charles would skin me alive."

"I am going to skin you alive," Angel smiles, flashing the knife at him.

"I am telling you what I know!" he argues.

"Don't yell at her!" I shout, pointing a threatening finger in his direction.

There is only one cigarette left in my pack, and I pull it out and light it. I take a drag as I consider the next step. My Angel needs me to find this motherfucker. Charles is going to kill me if I don't. Someone has to take the blame for all of this. I take another drag and blow the smoke through my nostrils as I look at the desperate expression on Brutus's face. Angel reaches back and plucks the cigarette from between my lips, taking a drag before flicking the ashes onto the ground beside her.

"If he picks up girls –" she says, her eyes blank as she thinks.

"Don't even fucking suggest it."

"Why not?

"Not here," I growl.

She huffs in annoyance and rolls her eyes. Taking another drag of the cigarette, she hands it back to me then turns to Brutus.

"Okay," she says. "I'll be nice. You gave us something. Now, just tell the camera you killed all the guys and we will let you go."

"No," he shakes his head. "I'm not that fucking stupid."

"Fine."

She kneels in front of him and aims the knife for his dick. I wince when she reaches into his pants and produces the blistered stub.

"If you won't talk, I'll just cut it off and we will drop you at the hospital."

"No, no, no!" he screams.

She leans her arm against his leg to steady herself as he wiggles in her grip.

"She is going to do it man," I tell him.

Angel stretches his flaccid cock out and tries to aim the edge of the blade against the base to start cutting.

"You could just be dead," I keep explaining. "She is going to leave you alive without a dick."

"Stop! Stop!" he begs.

I finish the cigarette and stomp it out on the ground. Angel is taunting him, moving slowly as if she isn't already skilled in how to sever a penis from someone's body.

"Alright!" Brutus screams as soon as the blade starts to sink into his blistered flesh.

"Alright what?" Angel asks, making another slice.

"I'll do it!" Brutus screams.

"Yeah?"

He nods, looking up at me pleadingly as if I am going to someone save him from her.

"Okay," Angel smiles, her teeth flashing brightly. "Just tell the camera you did it. We let you go."

"Okay," Brutus agrees. "Promise?"

"Would I fucking lie to you?" I snarl.

His eyes dart between the two of us, but he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. It is the last fucking mistake he is going to make.