Back in our lair, I informed Holly and Mills of my next moves, "Listen up, I'm going to go call the President and let him know that Jeffrey Dahmer, aka The Milwaukee Monster, has passed away from an unknown illness. I'm going to ask the President what he would like me to do as a replacement. After all that is said and done, I'm going to get my old Sarge on the horn and see what we had to do to get him to come down here and hang with us, lead us. Any exception or suggestions to this?"
Mills spoke up first, "Gregg, we don't need another leader. We want you to be the leader of this group. You can call your buddy, but know that when you call him you need to ask him to come join the team, not lead it."
Holly followed with, "I understand what you're saying Gregg. I get it. You are our leader, no matter who you bring down here; you are the leader of K.U.N.T."
I hugged both of them and asked them to get some rest while I took care of the rest of this. The smell of death was in the air down here; our ventilation system couldn't work fast enough. Blood had begun to dry and stain our floors, brain matter and flesh was splattered everywhere you looked. We need to get out of here and take our little posy elsewhere.
When I entered my office, I opened my desk drawer to find an old sticky that had John's number on it. He gave it to me before I was forced to come down here. I never thought I would speak to him or see him again but I had to get in touch with him.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon so regardless of what shift John is on I shouldn't be waking him. I pushed each button slowly and concisely to make sure I was dialing it correctly. This is one of the most important phone calls of my life right here.
The phone rang only twice before an answer, "Hello?"
I hesitated to the point that John almost hung up on me, "John? Sarge?"
He paused, "Umm, oh my God, Gregg, Gregg Burnsfield!"
My emotions got the best of me and I began to cry hysterically, "Yes John, it's me. I…What…What can I say, where do I start?"
Sarge took control of the situation like he always did, "Calm down Gregg, what's going on? How are you?"
I regained myself, "John, this place I was sent to, it's…it's…things aren't well. After we talk I'm calling the President of the United States to inform him of our condition. I need you to come to me and come see me. Can you please do me that favor? Come see, I can send a car if you need."
"Send that car; I'll be waiting for you. Send it to your old apartment. We have a lot of catching up to do, you sound like shit and I have some great news." Sarge responded instantly, no excuses for why he can't come or anything.
I felt so relieved, "Today good for you? Or the morning?"
Sarge replied eagerly, "I'll be outside your old apartment in an hour, send that car."
"Yes sir, see you soon Sarge." I hung up and ran to find Holly. She needs to go and be outside the apartment to pick up the Sarge.
I barged into my own bedroom where Holly was lying on the bed. I didn't wake her, shit; I didn't give her enough time to even get to sleep. She instantly sat straight up when I burst through the door, considering today's events, I didn't blame her.
I was so excited, "Holly, can you get a car from the garage and go pick up my old Sergeant from my old apartment, like now?"
"Gregg, I'll do anything for you baby, you just ask and consider it done." She dressed quickly and ran up to me. I guess the long sensual kiss was in order with all the action that we went through today.
Holly sprinted to the garage and took off towards my old apartment in Newport News. I didn't know how far away it was or how long it would take her to get there but I did know that the answer to all our problems would be coming back in her passenger seat.
Now it's time to touch base with the President. The red phone wasn't just a regular phone. If you pick up the phone and don't dial any numbers, it's a direct line to the President's desk, which also contains a red phone.
Obviously the nerves in my body were freaking out, I was about to personally speak to the President of the United States. I didn't let nerves stop me; I snatched that receiver up and put it to my ear. It took longer than I expected for him to answer but he is the President.
"This is the President, who am I speaking with?"
I wanted to freeze and just hang up like a nervous boy calling the girl of his dreams to ask her out on a date but, "Umm, Mr. President, Sir this is Gregg Burnsfield, umm, from K.U.N.T. Division. We need to talk."
"Go on Mr. Burnsfield."
I sat down at my desk chair and took a deep breath, "Sir, we have had a number of casualties down here, including one of our special agent's, The Boss and the Grief Counselor. I need some guidance on what I need to do. I have been nominated by the remaining people, the remaining two people, to be the man in charge but I need some help here."
"Son, this is what I have a Secretary of Defense for. She handles this stuff."
"Mr. President, she has been unreachable for the last few days and it is becoming urgent down here. We aren't receiving missions, we are losing personnel left and right and I need some guidance from one of the two people that actually knows we exist." I was growing frustrated with his responses.
"Mr. Burnsfield, I need you to be the man in charge here and you are in charge of making the executive decisions when it comes to personnel and what not down there. We have multiple serial killers housed on death room across the country; you just need to pick one or two to fill out your roster. Am I clear?"
Now the President was giving me ultimate control of the K.U.N.T. division, "Yes sir, I have already recruited an old boss of mine to come down here because I want him to co-lead with me. I will get in touch with the prisons and begin recruiting to replace Jeffrey. I appreciate your time sir."
The President replied, "No sir, I appreciate what you have done and are doing for your country. I know it's not an ideal life but your division is a necessary evil, no pun intended."
"Thank you sir, we won't let you down. We are awaiting any orders you send our way." I hung up and the amount of relief I felt was practically orgasmic. I knew my job and my life were safe from danger from the "big wigs" and Sarge was on his way down for me to pitch him an excellent idea on taking over and possible relocating so this place isn't so depressing.
I anxiously awaited the arrival of my only friend outside of this dreadful place. Actually, I was pacing so bad that the carpet in my office should have, in theory, caught on fire. The motion sensor went off in the barn area, the same area Holly and Sarge would be coming.
I ran to the elevator button and sent it up. Standing in front of the door waiting for it to open was absolutely nerve racking. Finally after about three minutes, the elevator had finally reached its destination right in front of where I was standing. The doors opened and boy was I shocked.
It wasn't Holly or Sarge, I should have checked the camera before I dropped my guard due to my excitement. The doors opened and to my surprise, to my terror it was a police officer just happened across the wrong place at the wrong time.
His weapon was drawn and he did announce himself as a police officer and asked me to stand still. I didn't have my service weapon on me but I did have my holster, that fact was obvious to the officer.
I put my hands in the air and asked what the problem was, "Listen Officer, this is well above your head. You have entered a classified area, classified by the President of the United States. You need to turn around, get in the elevator and I'll let you leave without any other problems."
The officer replied with, "Turn the fuck around and put your hands on your head sir. I'm investigating the disappearance of old man Otis, he's a farmer around these parts."
I turned around but I knew he couldn't shoot me if I took off. I actually opened up quite a bit of ground on him; I pulled my access card and sprinted to Gacy's room. When I entered the agent's area, Gacy was up and looking very anxious. I quickly punched the code, 4-3-1-0-4-6-7-8-2-2-0-4-7-6-8. Right as I entered the 7-6-8 part, deactivating the locking mechanism to the door the officer had reached me and slammed me against Gacy's plexi-glass door.
The best thing I could think to do was turn away from Gacy's line of sight and hopefully that would make the officer do the same. It worked as I expected, giving Gacy the opportunity to grab the officer from behind, carefully aiming his weapon up towards the ceiling.
Shortly thereafter, the officer was disarmed and was being dragged in the cell with the nastiest agent available. I pushed his door closed and smiled at Gacy. He saved me and he didn't try to rape me, I can't say the same for the officer. He literally got the shit raped out of him and that was just the start.
I didn't want to stand there and watch the master at work but I can guarantee there was some really gay shit going down in that room. Oh, and probably a very horrible, merciless death to a uniformed officer that happened across the wrong place at the wrong time.
I just want Holly back with the Sarge. I couldn't find Mills anywhere, probably a good thing because of my lack of awareness and self-control. The slow realization came over me that I was really no better than the serial killers we house down here or the ones that are running wild in the United States. I've killed or have had killed multiple people for my selfish benefit, many of them cops, some of them elderly people. It was really disgusting to me.
As I was reflecting on the terrible decisions I've made down here I noticed some movement in B.T.K.'s room. Susan had yet to be touched and to be honest B.T.K. didn't seem to interested in her, probably because she was all fucked up with the eye patch and all.
I knocked on the glass to get Dennis's attention, when he turned around he looked very sad, very depressed. I swiped my access card and entered him code. As the door lock deactivated, I leaned my head in to talk to him.
"Dennis, what's wrong buddy? Is she fucking with you?"
He nodded his head and crossed him arms like a toddler, "I don't want her. You can take her out now."
I was actually excited about this, "Are you sure Dennis? I'll find you a new one to play with ok?"
Dennis got to his feet from the pouting position and shove Susan out of his room. He had gagged her with a sock and bound her arms behind her. She literally fell into my open waiting arms; they were open and waiting but not to catch her. Now I get to perform some extracurricular activities with the woman that molested me and tried to kill me.
The little fragile old lady was nothing more than a play toy for me now. She knew what was going to happen in the end, she would be killed by my hands but she didn't know how fucked up it was going to be in the process. I could decide on fire torture or non-lethal cutting torture or something even worse. I had so many options open that it was actually slightly overwhelming, like being at a buffet and you like everything they have in every serving try but you can't eat all of it.
I whispered in her ear, "Have you ever been fucked by an old splintery broom stick? No? Oh, you're in for a treat Ms. Susan!"
She moaned and screamed, all blocked by the sock gag her previous roommate had provided her with. Now it was time to exact revenge for the years of torment and nightmares she provided me with. Now it was time to cause her pain and suffering like she never knew existed. Now it was time to avenge all the small boys she fondled, fucked and sucked on.
I lead her in to the Clinton room; it had a nice stainless steel table in there and many fantastic torture tools. As soon as I swiped the access card to open the door, she went into an old lady shit fit. I didn't know what she was trying to accomplish, her arms were bound, her mouth was gagged and she could barely walk without any assistance. A noble effort but a meaningless one.
Due to her sickly weight, about ninety pounds, I just swept her legs with my free arm and tossed her on to the table with ease. The table was roughly ten feet long and four feet wide with a hand cuff on each corner and a strap that ran across the middle.
I handcuffed Susan to the table; sinisterly making sure each cuff was too tight. The gag remained in because I certainly didn't need to hear her political pleas and empty threats. I slowly cut her white button up blouse off. Her frail upper body literally made me gag. The skin that resided on her bones was dark fake tanned and speckled with small skin tags. Every rib on her body was exposed, I could count them individually.
I focused my attention on Susan's pants, her business slacks were literally easier to cut than a sheet of paper. Susan Wilhelm, Secretary of the Defense, was on my table handcuffed down in her grandma panties and sports bra. This definitely was going to get interesting; I just need her to suffer like even Lucifer himself never knew.
I looked her directly in the eyes, "You do understand why this is happening right? You do know that I am the one you must answer to for all you have done wrong? You understand that death is going to be you only salvation? I am death, I am salvation and I am going to take your life as slowly and agonizingly as possible."
Susan blinked erratically, she couldn't speak because of the gag and until the festivities began she would wear that sock gag as long as I deemed it necessary.
As she continued to squirm I kindly pointed to the hand cuffs, "Keep that up and you might get an infection on those cuff lacerations."
Susan kindly murmur something along the lines of, "fuck you."
"Now that's not nice. I guess you want me to go ahead and get started so you can die now?" My face showed no emotion, no remorse.
Needle nose pliers would do the trick first. I snatched up a nice brand new clean set of Craftsmen Needle nose pliers and snapped them a couple times in front of Susan. As she watched the pliers open and close and my face turn to excitement, the squirming really began. Her right wrist was torn all the way down to the bone; I helped her out and tightened it up a touch for her.
When I yanked the sock out of her mouth it seemed as if she had gathered her second wind. Susan was frantically squirming and trying to scream but the gag had dried her mouth out very badly. As she squirmed I heard a terrible snap sound. I guess the handcuff I had retightened for her was a touch too tight and her wrist shatter due to her physical resistance.
Obviously I didn't want to start with that hand first when I began yanking fingernails, that wouldn't be as effective as I wanted to be. I focused on her left hand first, carefully slide the bottom portion of the pliers under her nail at least a half inch, her body convulsed upwards as if she we trying to leap off the table. At this point I clamped the pliers together as hard as I could and waited for her body to ease.
As the tension in her muscles released I very slowly start pulling on the thumb nail I had clamped. It didn't break, it didn't tear, that thing just slowly lost grip with the underlying skin and slid right out of its place deep inside her thumb. Again, Susan's body convulsed towards the heavens and maintained that tension until she passed out.
I whispered, "You're not get off that ease little miss child molester."
The room was equipped with ammonia snaps, a small tool used on professional fighters and athletes to help them regain consciousness after a knockout blow. I crushed one in my hand and waved it ever so gently above her barely visible moustache. After about eight seconds she snapped back to reality or hell on earth.
I rubbed her hair back and said, "Susan, you can't go passing out on every nail I pull ok? That's the easy part, the real pain hasn't even started yet."
My smile couldn't be any bigger as she yelled out words in any order just to make some noise. She was so overcome with pain that her brain function wasn't even working adequately. I moved to the index finger and I continued on that left hand, nail by nail, until all five were sitting on my work bench, like the bolts from a valve cover cap being store for reassembly.
Susan continued to slip in and out of consciousness the more nails I pulled. It was growing rather tired some so I super glued an ammonia snap under each nostril in hopes that she would maintain a solid state of awareness with every masochistic action I performed.
My method worked for the most part as I began to slowly clip each finger with a set of sheet metal snips. I only clipped them at the top knuckle so most of the finger was still intact; I'm not a fucking monster. Again, the reactions were growing predictable and tiresome so I moved into a more sensitive area.
I took my sheers and cut her sports bra from her weak body, revealing two disgusting looking breasts. On my work bench laid a very sharp fillet knife and butane lighter. I crawled on top of her, straddling her like she did me so many years ago. I grabbed a dull knife and the handheld blow torch.
I asked, "You gotta light?"
Susan didn't think it was as funny as I did as she choked out a, "Fuck you!"
The handheld was equipped with a spark trigger so all I had to do was open the valve and pull the trigger, which I did. The rusty non-serrated old fillet knife I had entered the flame as it slowly began to glow, like an enchanted item in a video game. The brighter the knife began to glow, the more anxious and upset my victim began to grow.
Once the metal had reached a malleable state, I lowered it, bright red, down onto the bottom of Susan's left breast. I raised the million year old mammary and started slowly working my way up to the top of it. If you've ever cut butter with a warm knife, you know what I was feeling. If you've ever scooped ice cream with a warm ice cream scoop, you know what I was feeling.
As I was performing my make shit double mastectomy, when the breasts were being sliced off, the hot knife was cauterizing the large wounds immediately. It was really very interesting, I actually enjoyed it. I didn't enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the smell of her flesh burning, like an aroma from a backyard camp fire.
Trying to even write about the magnitude of Susan's screams would do them an instant disservice. It was so loud that it made the receiving speakers distort but it was music to my ears.
"Louder! Louder Susan!" I yelled as I cackled off my ass.
Both of her breasts were now resting on her wrinkly stomach, the areas they used to be was charred and obviously fucked up. Large oval sections, black and dark red, missing pieces. What will I do next? Where will I go next? I didn't know where I would go from here but let me go ahead and replace those two ammonia snaps under her nose.
I took the same knife and used it to slowly carve her eyelids off from around her off white eyes. I held the lids with the pliers and pulled up, not in a careful manner, and slowly sawed my way around the top lid and bottom lid of both her eyes. Blood flooded her eyeballs so I took the can of condensed air that was on the table and freely sat there for at least five minutes blasting her eyes to try to keep them clear so Susan could enjoy the rest of the fun.
After I finished that pointless task, I took a carpet cutter, not a razor blade or scalpel and prepped it for an abdominal surgery. A quick snip right above the belly button allowed the carpet cutter to slide right into position allowing me to open her abdomen from bottom to top.
Working it back and forth slowly, I was making significant progress if this bitch would stop squirming. I was trying to make art not a picture of destruction. When the carpet cutter reached Susan's neck area I turned ninety degrees left and right and opened her up to her shoulders. The blood flew but bleeding out wasn't really a main concern for me, but I was no doctor.
The carpet cutter was finished after I opened her abdomen left to right above her belly button, now I have two full torso doors for my access and her discomfort. When I flipped the two skin flaps open my eyes were slammed wide open, I had never seen a human like this. Good thing I still haven't, this bitch is a monster.
I used my bare hands to dig in deep and tear the muscle tissue away, exposing the large and small intestine, the liver, the spleen, the lungs and heart underneath a rib cage. Now I knew I was losing her at this point, the squirming had stopped, the audible suffering had ceased, and it's time to finish this.
Using my bare fists I went insane on Susan's ribcage, even hit causing fractured bone matter to fly in every direction. I began to cry uncontrollably but I didn't stop until I had reached her heart. My hand fit around her barely beating heart, my grip was tight but not crushing. I pulled swiftly once I knew I had a solid grip, ripping her black dying heart from her chest cavity.
I sat on top of her, staring deeply into her eyes as the life quickly slipped away through them. I had never watched someone's eyes as they died; the fogginess that comes as life seeps out is haunting. I will never forget this moment in time; I will never want to forget this moment. All the small children she affected, the time she spent tormenting me, it all boiled down to this one crushing, life changing moment.
As sat on top of Susan Wilhelm's dead mutilated carcass holding her dead empty heart in my hand, I felt pure release, unbridled release from the haunting hold of a child molesting pedophile. The pain in my heart was no more, the suffering from her midnight attacks, it was all gone.
My last move, my very last defining move was to take my beloved rose medallion and place it in the center of her forehead that would be for the final picture before she is burned into nothing but ash. I will keep her ashes in an urn as if she were a long lost family member or a dear old friend; instead it would be a constant reminder for why we do what we do here and what we stand for as a team.