i came here by day, but i left here in darkness Who: Obed, Isobel, & Bryan [NPC]. What: A chapter is brought to a close. Where: A nameless warehouse on the waterfront. When: A few days following this. Warning: R for torture and mutilation.
Isobel turned the spade in her hand to delicately ring aeration holes around a newly planted bud; the ENC had replanted a tree grove to start helping repopulate an edge of the Santa Rosa fires, leaving her with the opportunity to spread some flora growth over the empty beds. Her phone was in her pocket, silent and yet as heavy as a stone. She'd picked up more shifts in an effort to clear her head, but the thought of what she'd condoned was never far from her mind.
Sitting back on her heels, she passed the back of one hand over her forehead, smearing dirt. Her phone buzzed, and she froze, monetarily considering ignoring it. But the need to know, to be done with all of this pushed her to her feet and had her fish her phone out of her pocket with thumb and forefinger. A swipe lit up the black screen, showing Obed's name with a heart emoji next to it, followed by a short message.
Have him
She felt her heart skip a beat in her chest; her hands shook. What struck her most was how not unnatural this all seemed; how not perturbed she was by the fact that the man she intended to marry was helping her, even encouraging her, to complete this odious task. Instead, she was immensely grateful for him and focused on that instead of what was to come. She hit the dial button next to his name on the message screen and put the phone to her ear. Obed picked up on the first ring, sounding only a little out of breath.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said. "But we're almost there, and I didn't want to keep you waiting. Maybe fifteen more minutes." A small, muffled cry carried over the phone. Obed paid it no mind. "How is the planting going?"
Isobel found herself stifling a laugh at his nonchalant tone; that in itself made the twang of disapproval sound off in the back of her head. Shouldn't she be concerned that the man she was in love with had zero problem with killing someone?
"It's...going." She paused, trying to think of how to frame her question. "How... How is this so easy for you?" Before he had a chance to reply, a familiar yip sounded off from the corner of the vehicle. Isobel's eyes widened.
"Obed, why is Hanni in the car?!"
"Well you're working," he said, as though this response was the most natural, understandable thing in the world. "And he really didn't want to be left alone. He's been a great help. Very good for my morale." Obed chuckled. There was only the slightest hint of stress in the sound. Then the laughter was gone as quickly as it had come, and his tone was as serious as it had ever been.
"This is easy for me because it has to be done," he said. "You should see him, Isobel. Even now he's just... angry. No regret, no remorse, nothing at all. Trust me: This will not stop if we don't make it stop, ourselves."
Isobel sighed, her eyes slipping closed. A hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose, moreso at the additional complication of their dog than honestly at the whole situation itself.
"I know." She opened her eyes, letting her gaze fall on the plants around her. "It's the same place that we discussed, right? I'll take...an extended lunch." After all of this, she wasn't sure she was going to be able to eat at all.
"I think you should. You've worked hard today, I'm sure, and it's going to be a long afternoon…" Again a cry from somewhere behind him cut into the conversation. This time, Hanni's sharp bark seemed intended to cut that cry short. Obed ignored the both of them. "Why don't you take some pictures of the flowers you planted and head over? Use the side door. We'll be in the office, with everything you need."
Isobel nodded, murmuring assent into the mic. "All right. I love you." It seemed a weird thing to say, and yet felt entirely necessary in the moment. She clicked off the line and turned back to review the flowers and plants she'd spent the afternoon tending to—it was strange enough to go from encouraging life to snuffing one out. The trowel in her hand went into the dirt like a bookmark to remind her where she'd left off; she snapped a few photos, pleased with her work even as she struggled to focus on it.
As she walked away to find a manager to whom to report her early absence, she walked by another table full of tools. After a pause, she grabbed a pair of gardening shears and pocketed them.
About 30 minutes later she was parking her Prius next to Obed's Tesla, just outside of the warehouse situated at the address that he'd given her. Water churned just behind her, visible in the rearview; the sight did little to calm her overwrought stomach. Butterflies, the same she felt on the first day of when she'd finally won the right to attend public school after so many arguments with her parents; how little she'd known it would be one of the worst decisions she'd ever made.
Shaking her head, Isobel palmed her keys and slid out of the car, heading inside. The shears were still in her back pocket, after being retrieved from her passenger seat. The side door, as Obed described, led into a hallway with three doors; one was a mostly defunct bathroom with a barely flushing toilet, another leading into the warehouse proper, and the third into the office Obed had described. Unsure of what sight would greet her, Isobel paused with her hand on the office doorknob, and then turned it to let herself inside.
Obed sat in a black desk chair, a battered, termite-eaten desk at his side. Hanni stood atop the desk, peering out a smoked glass window at their prisoner beyond. His aggressive expression—teeth bared, ears pinned to his tiny skull—eased to utter joy at the sight of his mistress. He hopped down from the table, landing heavily on the floor, and skittered over to her with a rapid-fire clicking of claws. Obed rose as Hanni reached her, and smiled softly at them both.
He moved to her side, enveloping her in a brief but tight hug. He kissed her forehead as he stepped back. "Everything is ready," he said. "Please don't take this the wrong way. But are you sure about this? You can leave right now if you want, if you have any hesitation at all. OK?"
She kept her hands linked with his, wanting him close as she took a moment to think on his words. It would be easy enough to step away; to let him handle this, as prepared as he was for it. As eager as he seemed for it. But she found herself shaking her head.
"I'm not letting you do this for me, and... I'd rather have you here," she replied, her fingers tightening around his. "Dealing with all of this, I'm glad I at least have you." His presence was immeasurably comforting, even as she found herself glancing toward the windows that looked out into the warehouse proper. She could see a figure hunched over, sitting, in the middle of the huge, empty space. She looked back at Obed. "I just want this over. I want to go home, and not worry that he's behind every shadow."
Obed squeezed her hands. He nodded, one single, decisive gesture. "It ends today." He leaned down and kissed her cheek. His smile was gone, replaced with something hard and immovable. Whatever he had done to steel himself for this, it was exceedingly effective. In that moment he looked more Hades than Obed, the very picture of icy calm.
"I left a box by his chair. When you're ready, we'll go out together. I'll be with you every step of the way."
Even with the transformation, Isobel kept her hand tightly wound with his. Somehow, this stony facade did not worry or frighten her as it had before; if anything, she felt it extend to her, calming her and steeling her. She nodded, taking a deep breath and allowing herself time to breathe out. Turning her attention to Hanni, her free hand went to the top of his head, the soft down of his fur taking her out of the moment. Then she nodded; she let go of Obed's hand, withdrew from Hanni, and moved toward the door that exited the office to the warehouse proper.
The moment the door opened, she could hear the sounds of gagged complaints, screams; the man—Bryan, a voice in her mind thought, which she quieted—turning toward the sound of the opened door. He looked worse for the wear, not at all as put together as she had the last time she'd seen him in the Pax parking lot; torn jeans, a weathered shirt, stubble aging his face. Deep bags under his eyes told a story lacking in sleep, high in stress—mostly, he seemed smaller, somehow.
Her gaze fell down to the box Obed had spoken of. Isobel crossed the room toward it, not deigning to pay Bryan any attention at all. She knelt, lifting the lid; her brows shot up at the instruments within. It seemed Obed had raided a Clue game: gun, rope, heavy blunt instruments, a knife. The handles of the shears stuck out of the back of her pocket, and she could feel them in the tight line of her pants. She glanced back at Obed, a slight, unsure smile on her face. "Do I even want to know?"
"Probably not," he admitted. He tried for a smile; it seemed far too sharp. "I like to be prepared for any eventuality."
He stopped just in front of Bryan's chair, looking down at the man who had caused them such trouble. He did not seem quite so frightening, trussed up as he was. He merely looked like a man who was reaping all the rewards of a lifetime of poor choices. Obed reminded himself of this, reminded himself of all the times this creature had caused Isobel pain. It bolstered him. Made him all the more certain that this was the right path.
Belatedly, he realized Bryan was attempting to speak. The shredded shirt stuffed down his throat precluded that, of course, allowing only a handful of garbled syllables through. Obed looked to Isobel, one pale brow arched.
"Are you at all interested in listening to him?" Obed asked. Bryan made another muffled sound. "I can remove that if you like."
Isobel rose to standing, having removed the knife after rustling around in the box. She moved around behind Obed, to in front of Bryan. Her former high school classmate's eyes met hers; just as Obed had said in the car, there was no remorse, no regret, just unbridled anger. His jaws were moving, the accusatory shouts he would have otherwise been making muffled by the makeshift gag.
She paled slightly as his eyes met hers, but after a moment, found her spine becoming steel. She nodded, despite what she was sure Obed would say.
"It seems only fair." She gripped the knife by its handle, its blade pointed in Bryan's direction.
Obed, who was not at all interested in fair, nonetheless was curious how his beloved would handle such a conversation. She certainly gripped the knife with some degree of familiarity and calm; after another moment's hesitation, Obed was quite sure she would withstand anything Bryan said to her. Praxidike was with her, and he had seen what she could do.
He moved behind Bryan, taking a second small switchblade from his pocket. It shone when he opened it, and made no sound as its scythe-sharp edge cut through the tight knot at the back of the binding. The gag tumbled down to the floor. Obed moved to Bryan's side, his eyes firmly on Isobel's. Even Hanni watched her from his place at Obed's feet, utterly silent, his black eyes shining in the overhead lights.
Bryan spat, clearing his mouth entirely of the cloth and the taste of whatever was on it. Isobel had no doubt that Obed hadn't wasted a clean shirt on her stalker; she gave no sign that she cared, instead waiting for Bryan to start this conversation, since it seemed he had so much to say.
Now free to speak, however, the man remained quiet, eyes glancing between his two captors uneasily. He shifted in his seat, jerking at the bonds around his wrists that held his arms uncomfortably in place behind his back. Finally, his gaze settled on Isobel, red curling in his cheeks as he prepared a volley of insults.
"You bitch. You think you're gonna scare me with this shit? This doesn't change anything, Isobel," he spat. Isobel frowned, having expected something a little more.
"I don't want to have to do this, Bryan. If you promise to leave town, go back to Elgin—"
His eyes went a little wider, but it didn't seem as though her words were carrying the weight she meant them to.
"Seriously? You upgrading from babykiller to murderer? I guess there is a correlation, huh?" Isobel flinched at that, the frown turning into a deep scowl. Bryan grinned evilly. "Yeah, that bothers you? God, you are a heartless cunt. And you, she's got you so twisted around her little finger that you're at her fucking beck and call?" He turned to eye Obed, shaking his head. Not the slightest muscle in Obed's face moved. "Figures she'd find someone she could control."
Isobel's hand curled further around the blade, her knuckles growing white. Bryan's gaze flicked down to that, seeing he was starting to get under her skin. He pressed his advantage.
"She tell you how she killed our baby? This bitch, on me like a fucking dog in heat, and then she gets herself scraped because she doesn't like the outcome. The fuck did you expect, Izzy? You came all the way here with me, and that was it? Treat men like tissues, bitches like you should be brok—" The words themselves were stopped premature as Isobel struck out with her left hand, slapping Bryan hard alongside his face; one lip cracked, spewing blood.
"God, you just don't change, do you? I gave you so many fucking chances," she hissed, tears stinging at the edges of her eyes. It was that that stirred a fresh fire in the pit of Obed's stomach, but still he did not move.
Bryan spat a glob of red at her feet, his tongue checking for all his teeth. He glowered up at Isobel. "I'm not the one who changed, you cunt. Then again, maybe I just didn't know you all that well. Maybe Steph saw something I didn't. She said there was something stuck up about you. That you were a bitch. You were so docile back then, I didn't see it. But I get it now. It all comes down to that fucking thing between your legs, huh? That hole where there's nothing, it just sucks up everything in its path, and then when there's nothing left to take, you go and find someone else to feed—"
Isobel struck out again, this time slapping him twice with the same hand—once back, then forward. His nose started bleeding. Her skin was burning, splotched red, tears coursing down her cheeks. The same hand that had struck him reached up and shakily wiped away those tears, swapping the blade from one hand to the other. Then she reached back around, and pulled out the gardening shears she'd taken from the ENC. Thankfully they were unbranded, with simple, black handles; anyone who found them wouldn't necessarily trace them back to her place of work.
Compared to the knife, their blades were small, looking more akin to a pair of safety scissors than an actual weapon. But something about them made Bryan's eyes widen. Isobel looked to Obed. Hanni danced in place, a growl rising from his small throat as a fringe of fur stood up along his spine, his shoulders curling inward.
"Take his pants off. Please."
Obed flicked his own blade closed. It disappeared into the pocket of his pressed black trousers. He moved in front of Bryan. He allowed himself one look, one moment to express the depths of his searing hatred for the filth before him; Bryan met his gaze, flinching back as he waited to see what would happen. Then Obed bent over the bound man and unfastened button and zipper. Bryan immediately started screaming, trying to kick, but his ankles were bound to the chair's legs; instead he flailed, which did little to prevent Obed from completing his task. Obed put one foot on the bottom rung of the chair, holding it in place. Then he tugged, jerking Bryan's dirt-crusted jeans and stained underwear down in a single hard pull. Clothing pooled around their captive's ankles, leaving him bare-assed on the cold metal chair.
He stepped back, one hand sliding back into the pocket that contained his blade. He stayed close to Isobel, but firmly at her back, content to watch her work.
"What the fuck," Bryan screeched, trying to double over and protect himself as best he could. His eyes were like a rabbit's, fleeing back and forth between Isobel and Obed, struggling to find an out. Isobel passed the knife back to Obed, and took a step toward Bryan.
"You think your dick makes you better than me?" A hand reached out, making Bryan flinch back again as her palm hovered just outside of his cheek. "Fine. I'm going to even the playing field."
It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink into Bryan's already terror-filled face. Isobel reached between his legs, grasping his limp member by the shaft, and brought the gardening shears to bear right at the juncture of hilt and groin.
"Wait, wait, wait—" He started to scream, the cold press of the shear's metal bringing reality crashing down around him. Isobel did not wait, instead closing the shears with one quick, sure clutch of her hand. Blood pooled and poured over Bryan's legs, down onto the seat of the chair, and quickly began to dribble to the floor.
Bryan screamed, still struggling, but Isobel was too set in her work to pause or be distracted. She cut—it took five, in the end, to completely separate his dick and sac from the rest of his body. A few moments, after all was said and done, and even then, there was so much blood on the chair that Bryan was already beginning to look pale. Shock had set in and had blessedly quieted his tongue.
Isobel held up the detached, limp penis in her hand, set on her palm, and shook her head. "No, I don't think this did much of anything for you, Bryan. This could have been so different."
"You cunt—" he started, trying to lean forward in the chair even as pain flickered over his face. Isobel frowned, and tossed Bryan's penis to the floor in the direction where she knew Hanni was sitting. One moment, there was a small, black pomeranian who'd been growling for all he was worth; the next, a hulking mass of something, three gargantuan heads snarling over each other as they all grasped for a tiny piece of the offering their mistress had seen fit to grant them. Bryan's face went sheet white, eyes rounder than baseballs as all comprehension of what was happening to him fled his mind.
Glancing down to the blood-soaked shears, the red all over her hands, Isobel debated what to do with them. She looked back to Bryan, who had gone catatonic and then finally passed out. She turned to Obed, sticky blood from her fingers smearing all over the shear's handles as she passed it back and forth.
"What do we do with him? Do we just... Do we leave him here?"
Her voice roused Obed from whatever reverie he had fallen into. He shook his head. Reached out one gentle hand, withdrawing the bloody shears from her grip. Then he walked the few steps to the box full of tools and dropped first the knife, then her own blades into the box.
"We cut his bonds and pull his clothes up," Obed said. "He's going into the water. Unless you'd rather fertilize Pax's lawn with what's left of him." He gestured to Hanni, a grim smile on his face. His food gone, the pom had returned to his typical size; blood spattered his tiny muzzle and his small, needle-sharp teeth. "I think the water is safer. Let the sharks have him."
He moved back behind Bryan, slicing carefully through the ties at his wrists, then those at his ankles. Bending down in front of him, he dressed him with as little care as his useless near-corpse deserved. He hefted the man's dead weight against his chest, and turned to face Isobel.
"You can leave if you like," he said. His breath came in uneven bursts, labored and slow. "I can take care of him from here."
Isobel shook her head, stepping forward and stooping to catch Bryan's feet. "No, we're doing this together." She helped lift her ex into the air, waiting patiently for Obed to show where they would go. Together, they carried Bryan's near-dead form to the exit doors that were designed to press out into a now-empty hallway, allowing for easy departure of cargo onto waiting ships. Another set of doors led from that hallway into the outdoors and the bay beyond. Isobel found herself pausing as ocean wind struck her face, wondering if they'd be seen; a glance down saw the red that saturated Bryan's pants. Hanni was on the ground beside them, panting, the bloody spots on his muzzle darkened to black splotches. Either way, it did not matter; whatever consequences of these actions would come, and she'd deal with them then.
The cawing of seagulls seemed like an alarm, but the waters drifted back and forth the same as they had upon her arrival. If the ocean cared for what was about to be dumped into it, it did not show such sentiment.
Obed counted off as they swung Bryan, then heaved him off the edge of the rotting pier. The seagulls descended, one of them landing atop Bryan's chest, pushing him down beneath the waves. Obed had timed this quite carefully: The tide was going out, and it would carry this detritus with it. Isobel stared, watching the body disappear; her eyes did not move away from the point where she'd last seen Bryan.
He slipped an arm around Isobel's shoulders and pulled her in close; her arms wound around his waist. Blood stained their skin and their clothes, but Obed could muster no emotion but relief. He kissed her temple, smiling softly against her. There was nothing to say—nothing that would help her in this moment, at least—and so he held his silence until she seemed ready. Then, quietly: "Let's go home. I'll clean you up, hm?"
It took a moment for the words to register; she tipped her face up toward his. He was cold to the touch, like always, but the sight of his face made her smile.
"A very long bath," she agreed, the words bringing other images to mind. And then we can order out for dinner; if you're hungry, that is." She pulled back, winding her bloody hand through his; after a moment, she thought better of it, and stooped to scoop Hanni into her arms. Holding him on one hip, she took Obed's hand again, and turned them toward their waiting vehicles.