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Description
"The fuck?" the man slurred upon opening his eyes. A bare light bulb blinded him. He tried to raise his head to look around but found he couldn't move. In fact, he couldn't move at all, except for his hands and his feet. A bad feeling crept up inside him as panic threatened to overwhelm him. Fortunately, the urge to break down and cry like a little girl quickly passed.

"Hey. Hey asshole! I know you can fucking hear me, bastard," he yelled, straining against the bonds to no avail. He continued shouting obscenities at a person he couldn't see. When the need to breath silenced him, he became aware of another person.

"Tsk, tsk, Daniel. That's no way to treat your host, now is it?" another man asked. Daniel desperately wanted to see who tied him up like this, but the stranger approached from slightly behind him. When the man leaned over Daniel, blocking out the light, he could only make out that the man had dark hair. He squinted as the light glared at him again when the man moved.

"This is any way to treat a guest?" he spat.

"Whoever said you were a guest?" the stranger scoffed. The cold from the metal table crept into Daniel's bones. The table, with him on top, tilted up so at least he could see some of the room and the light didn't directly burn holes in his retinas. "Much better, wouldn't you say, Not Guest?" the bastard said.

"You're that motherfucker," the man said angrily.

"Am I now?" the stranger challenged.

"That's right, you are," answered Daniel. His captor thought a moment.

"Hum, no, I think you're mixing me up with someone else," he eventually told the man. "Anyway, enough of this idle chit chatting, Not Guest. The game must continue," the stranger said, walking toward him. The man could now see the man who planned to kill him. His eyes widened in surprised. "Expecting someone else?" he added.

The stranger left his limited field of vision and returned holding up a Zippo lighter and small metal poker. The man looked at the tools with greater fear than he could ever remember feeling before. He started pleading for his life but the stranger seemed not to hear him.

"This game is going to be a little different," he explained and sparked the lighter to life, holding the poker in the flame until it glowed red. Sweat appeared on the man. Without warning, the stranger dragged the burning metal across the man's skin, drawing a hangman tree across his chest and down his stomach. He shouted in white hot agony but bit it off at the end, trying not to give the bastard the satisfaction of his pain. The man straightened and frowned at the brand. "This just won't do," he said. He heated the metal once again, burning off the flesh that clung to it, and slid it into the man's biceps like butter.

At first the pain didn't register due to the immediate cauterization, but when the stranger didn't pull the rod out, the searing affliction caused his muscles to tense around the instrument, adding to his misery. Even if he remembered to try and remain stoic, he wouldn't have. A wail tore from his throat before he knew it. The stranger smiled and once again heated his tool, holding it and gazing thoughtfully at the man's burned chest. He sweated profusely and the smell of burning flesh threatened to make him vomit. At this angle, his throw up would land on his wounds, and that wouldn't make anything feel better.

"What to do, what to do? This is a toughy," the stranger said, tugging on his earlobe absently. He leaned forward and carved the letters A, U, and R off to the side somewhere, drawing the corresponding head, body and leg lines signifying those letters did not match the puzzle. Before he started drawing again he paused his torture to heat up the poker. After that he added the letters E, and I varying distances from each other below his budding picture. He stepped away again, thinking.

Daniel passed out sometime after the first E marred his belly. His tormenter haphazardly burned him, sometimes pressing harder than other times. He couldn't modulate the pain when it fluctuated so drastically. When he woke up, the man stared him intently in the face. He must have groaned in surprise because the stranger backed up, frowning.

"Why did you pass out? The others went through much worse before passing out. I am not a patient man," the stranger explained. Tears leaked from the man's eyes. Nodding, he etched more letters into the man's torso. After some agonizing time later, the stranger stopped. "Well shoot, I lost." He looked at the puzzle more closely. With a sigh he heated the poker one last time, regarding it thoughtfully. The man, too, watched the instrument that caused him so much distress.

The stranger's eyes flicked between the flaming metal and the man's chest, and an idea sparked. His captor seemed to deem it acceptable, even if he looked a little unsure. Lashing out like a cobra, the man expected to feel fire eating at him. His heart beat once. He felt nothing. His heart beat twice. It ached, strangely. His heart beat a third time. The man had trouble breathing. Though he couldn't pinpoint it, his limbs grew hot and started tingling. The stranger stepped away and watched, and the man wondered why. His heart beat one more time and then stopped. The man's last exhale sent shivers up his killer's spine, but the man just smiled.

"Ooh, that was a nice touch, don't you think?" he asked. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room and then the building.

"Stupid word. I only needed one more guess," he complained on his way out.

C-NVENIENT in black, bold letters glared a hole in his back.

Description
"The fuck?" the man slurred upon opening his eyes. A bare light bulb blinded him. He tried to raise his head to look around but found he couldn't move. In fact, he couldn't move at all, except for his hands and his feet. A bad feeling crept up inside him as panic threatened to overwhelm him. Fortunately, the urge to break down and cry like a little girl quickly passed.

"Hey. Hey asshole! I know you can fucking hear me, bastard," he yelled, straining against the bonds to no avail. He continued shouting obscenities at a person he couldn't see. When the need to breath silenced him, he became aware of another person.

"Tsk, tsk, Daniel. That's no way to treat your host, now is it?" another man asked. Daniel desperately wanted to see who tied him up like this, but the stranger approached from slightly behind him. When the man leaned over Daniel, blocking out the light, he could only make out that the man had dark hair. He squinted as the light glared at him again when the man moved.

"This is any way to treat a guest?" he spat.

"Whoever said you were a guest?" the stranger scoffed. The cold from the metal table crept into Daniel's bones. The table, with him on top, tilted up so at least he could see some of the room and the light didn't directly burn holes in his retinas. "Much better, wouldn't you say, Not Guest?" the bastard said.

"You're that motherfucker," the man said angrily.

"Am I now?" the stranger challenged.

"That's right, you are," answered Daniel. His captor thought a moment.

"Hum, no, I think you're mixing me up with someone else," he eventually told the man. "Anyway, enough of this idle chit chatting, Not Guest. The game must continue," the stranger said, walking toward him. The man could now see the man who planned to kill him. His eyes widened in surprised. "Expecting someone else?" he added.

The stranger left his limited field of vision and returned holding up a Zippo lighter and small metal poker. The man looked at the tools with greater fear than he could ever remember feeling before. He started pleading for his life but the stranger seemed not to hear him.

"This game is going to be a little different," he explained and sparked the lighter to life, holding the poker in the flame until it glowed red. Sweat appeared on the man. Without warning, the stranger dragged the burning metal across the man's skin, drawing a hangman tree across his chest and down his stomach. He shouted in white hot agony but bit it off at the end, trying not to give the bastard the satisfaction of his pain. The man straightened and frowned at the brand. "This just won't do," he said. He heated the metal once again, burning off the flesh that clung to it, and slid it into the man's biceps like butter.

At first the pain didn't register due to the immediate cauterization, but when the stranger didn't pull the rod out, the searing affliction caused his muscles to tense around the instrument, adding to his misery. Even if he remembered to try and remain stoic, he wouldn't have. A wail tore from his throat before he knew it. The stranger smiled and once again heated his tool, holding it and gazing thoughtfully at the man's burned chest. He sweated profusely and the smell of burning flesh threatened to make him vomit. At this angle, his throw up would land on his wounds, and that wouldn't make anything feel better.

"What to do, what to do? This is a toughy," the stranger said, tugging on his earlobe absently. He leaned forward and carved the letters A, U, and R off to the side somewhere, drawing the corresponding head, body and leg lines signifying those letters did not match the puzzle. Before he started drawing again he paused his torture to heat up the poker. After that he added the letters E, and I varying distances from each other below his budding picture. He stepped away again, thinking.

Daniel passed out sometime after the first E marred his belly. His tormenter haphazardly burned him, sometimes pressing harder than other times. He couldn't modulate the pain when it fluctuated so drastically. When he woke up, the man stared him intently in the face. He must have groaned in surprise because the stranger backed up, frowning.

"Why did you pass out? The others went through much worse before passing out. I am not a patient man," the stranger explained. Tears leaked from the man's eyes. Nodding, he etched more letters into the man's torso. After some agonizing time later, the stranger stopped. "Well shoot, I lost." He looked at the puzzle more closely. With a sigh he heated the poker one last time, regarding it thoughtfully. The man, too, watched the instrument that caused him so much distress.

The stranger's eyes flicked between the flaming metal and the man's chest, and an idea sparked. His captor seemed to deem it acceptable, even if he looked a little unsure. Lashing out like a cobra, the man expected to feel fire eating at him. His heart beat once. He felt nothing. His heart beat twice. It ached, strangely. His heart beat a third time. The man had trouble breathing. Though he couldn't pinpoint it, his limbs grew hot and started tingling. The stranger stepped away and watched, and the man wondered why. His heart beat one more time and then stopped. The man's last exhale sent shivers up his killer's spine, but the man just smiled.

"Ooh, that was a nice touch, don't you think?" he asked. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room and then the building.

"Stupid word. I only needed one more guess," he complained on his way out.

C-NVENIENT in black, bold letters glared a hole in his back.