Yeah, it's safe to say that I fell for Rachel like a mid teen boy falls for the first busty girl he sees in high school. All of my blood was rushing to all the sweet spots and even now, as I lay here in my fucking cell... Excuse me, I'm still a bit hurt. As I was saying, even now I feel a certain static sensation and let's just say my crotch is begging to escape my prison slacks.
I just started thinking of the number six for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was fate or something, 'cause it reminds me of the next member we initiated into the society, (before we even knew it would even exist of course.)
The man was a classic psychopath! And here I thought I was fucked up, but this man...Oh, this man took the proverbial cake so to speak. His real name is Simon Virgo, but he prefers to go by the name: Trifecta. He not only tortures the poor bastards that he finds, but he maims them nearly beyond fucking recognition!
Before we get ahead of ourselves, allow me to take you a few days after Rachel and I met.
(December 14th, 1991)
The weather was still cold as a mother fucker, but there was a difference in the chill that lingered. (Yes, we we're still in New York City.) I had a feeling; a certain... sensation that can be only described as excitement, nervousness and happiness all clashing together. I made up a word for that by the way, I call it: Excappitervous. Yeah, wordsmithing was one of my strong suits growing up since I loved English. Back to Trifecta... He first came into our lives at that abandoned apartment building, (You know, the one where Rachel and I made our first kill together?)
Yeah, that one. We were in that exact same room that the cop bled out in, except that it was all cleaned and the chair in the center was occupied by a tall, lanky looking man. (Before I go into anything farther, he approached us outside the building. He was slinking around, searching for a victim when we caught him. Right, back to the story.)
His hair was semi scraggly, yet thinning around the edges, and looked as if he poorly dyed it from blonde to black. I assumed it was an attempt to hide himself from someone or a group of some sort. He was wearing long overalls, a grimy white muscle shirt and work boots. I knew he was a hick from a severely suburban town.
Either way, the man looked so horrible! He appeared to be incredibly malnourished; I saw his ribs sticking out on each side! He had a long face, broken and crooked teeth as well as a thick nose. A huge chunk was missing from his right ear; I can still see it vividly in my mind. It looked like that section had been torn off by someone's bare hands.
His skin was super pale and he had this thin stubble running across his perfectly chiseled jaw line/chin. For a few minutes Rachel and I spent time slapping him and burning his chest and arms with cigarettes.
This was particularly my favorite part since I got to see Rachel's luscious lips caressing the filter so seductively. I nearly jizzed myself just watching that. And when Simon screamed, it pushed me up to the very edge of climaxing. If Rachel's breasts weren't pouring out of her top, I wouldn't have but of course, they were. So there I stood, with a lust filled expression and cum soaking my underwear.
Thankfully my beloved was being turned on as well. Sweat had formed perfectly around those giant breasts of hers. Her nipples were angrily becoming more and more hard, nearly ripping through her shirt. The woman decided it'd be fun to wear a super tight one too! It sucked to her body perfectly, and had to have four of the ten buttons undone just to make sure those perfect mounds wouldn't tear through.
And even then they threatened to do so. She stood there, not caring that this poor son of a bitch was watching and drove her fingers deep into her vagina and screamed as loud as she could muster. I saw the orgasm coming; she showed all the signs. Flushed cheeks, heaving chest, the lower lip bite... It was all there.
Anyway, Simon had been watching and I saw that little pecker of his threatening to blast off any second as well. (Now to be fair, at the time I thought he had some sort of fetish; it was safe to assume that. Of course afterwards, we found out his true nature.)
I remember hearing the sound of weight hitting old springs and knew Rachel was on the bed we used. It was an ancient, filthy old mattress with rusty springs poking out the sides. But it was our filthy old mattress, where we did soooo many disgusting things! But I won't sweat the details; back to Simon.
The air in that room was just as freezing as the unforgiving blizzard that had been going on outside. Rachel had finished masturbating reappearing with cum all over her hand, which she licked off. (I'm not gonna lie, I wanted to fuck her right then and there and I mean hardcore.) She knew I did and gave me the most sly smile I've ever seen her form.
That was when we heard Simon speak a coherent sentence for the first time, and he actually sounded very sophisticated given the stuttering. (And just an f.y.i. we did not know his name at the time, not until he revealed it.) He said, and I quote: "M-My n-name is S-S-Simon V-V-V-Virgo. I-I-I-I'm s-sorry for my s-s-stutter, b-but I w-w-w-was b-born w-with it. A-Anyway..."
He cut off at that moment and started licking his lips. I could see the dehydration on them and quickly got a cup of water. He sipped at it so gracefully and then focused real hard. I've never seen a person more mentally driven than I did with him. He actually spoke clear and efficiently.
"Okay, what I should have said was my stutter will always be with me until I die. However, if I concentrate hard enough, I can form concise and grammatically straight sentences. So I guess you two noticed my excitement when you were torturing me. I get turned on by pain, whether that be burns, cuts, whips, punching; whatever."
He turned and looked me straight in the eye at this point, with those beady nearly black irises. For the first time in my life I was afraid. And that's saying something after seeing that big fucker, Blank Face. There was something intimidating about this man's stare though, which felt more creepy. It was a stare of no remorse and no regrets.
A gaze of confidence mixed together with soulless intentions. I actually am shuddering right now as I speak... No joke. Ugh... Anyway, he looked me dead in the eyes and spoke the most eerie fucked up statement ever! He very coldly stated, "I murder people just for the fun of it. I love to hear them scream and beg for mercy as I put them through my trials. You see, I was born on the sixth day of the sixth month in the year nineteen seventy six. Do you see the pattern here?"
He gave me a grin, and licked his coke induced, rotting front teeth as I pieced together his simple question. I remember thinking: Okay. The sixth day of the month is the sixth of course. The sixth month of the year would make it June which means six, six. Nineteen seventy six means the last number of the year is just that; six. So that's a trifecta; six, six, six.
"I can see you put it all together my good man." he told me. Even the tone in his voice was soulless with an unforgiving flatness to it. I wanted to run from that room and I was just like him. Although, I thought this before he told me about his trials. And I throw that word around lightly. (I am doing the quotations in real life as I write this.)
"First, I take a white hot knife... I stick it to their chest and I begin searing a large swastika into the skin. After the last bit is burnt in, I dump copious amounts of rubbing alcohol on it so it doesn't become infected. Why the fuck would I want my victim dying of infection?" He just chuckled after this. I could feel a different coolness about that room right then and there. And I heard the change in Rachel's breathing as well.
"What happens next? If you don't mind my asking of course." She stated. I now distinctively heard the curiosity in her voice and thanked her silently in my head, for doing what I couldn't muster to do. "I'm glad you asked me that, you pretty little thing." I wanted to break his fuckin' teeth out one by one for talking that way to Rachel. She must have sensed this and gave me a quick nod, before grabbing my hand. She's the one who can calm me down, no matter how angry I get. So, with my nerves settled, I nodded towards Simon as he continued.
I saw him concentrating again and I felt so bad for him. Just like that the sick fuck can change everything you feel about him. Whether it was his leg bouncing up and down at a rhythmic pattern, or the random jolts his arms gave, I could tell it took all of his brain to not stutter. "Just for the record, I'm a bigot and I ain't ashamed of it either. My parents were bigots, my grandparents were bigots and even all ten of my incest kids are bigots. Yes, my family believes in the old testament of the bible and thought incest was okay, so I think it's okay."
(I'm gonna stop right there and say that I don't like that statement, at all! Murder is one thing, but incest is just revolting! I let it go of course, since we were holding a fellow murderer captive.) He looked me back in the eye before continuing; that same shiver returned as I returned the stare.
"After the swastika is burnt into the skin and disinfected, I grab a series of tools, which always rest on a nearby table. When it comes to torture, whether that be a cork remover or pliers, I can sometimes barely decide what to do. I normally have to resort to my imagination." He stated.
"Resort to my imagination..." That just fuckin' freaked me out. This man had no sense of morality at all, and I know I shouldn't be judging 'cause I don't either. And yes, I torture my victims, but most of it is psychological. I like to get under their skin and make them squirm as I threaten them with my tools of the trade.
But this guy... This one was different. He had an iciness to his explanations. I mean, poor Bruce, a.k.a. Blank Face, couldn't help who he was. He happened to have a severe form of Schizophrenia which developed powerful delusions. He heard voices that told him what to do and couldn't do a damn thing about it, though he's as badass as they come, don't get me wrong. People like Simon or Rachel or even myself... We have a conscious choice to either do good or evil in this world; Simon was the soul example of that.
He followed the previous statement with a very calm and sincere voice. He said, "Sometimes I'd be in the mood for digging a screwdriver behind the victim's eyeball and pop it out. Just to see it hang there. And for your information, all of my victims are either Black, Hispanic, Asian; anyone who isn't white. And I mean white as in: Irish, Russian, English; you get what I'm saying. Like I said, I'm a bigot. So after I burn them with the symbol I cherish every moment. I torture them, there leaves the end of my trifecta. And that's the kill."
He giggled like a little fucking kid following that last statement. And he did it for over five minutes; I know, I counted. I actually started to like the man at that point and I could tell Rachel felt the same. She actually nodded again towards me, which meant she was asking if she could remove the man's shackles. I returned the nod almost immediately.
What I didn't expect was her to grasp the man's hair and put that tooth blade of hers to his throat. The way I felt when Simon grunted as she yanked his head back and as she pressed that blade into his skin is indescribable. She is such a perfect woman, bestowing fear even among one of our own, just to show she was in control.
"I'm going to release you from your confines. If you try to hurt my man I swear to you that what you endure will not be fucking pretty! Do you understand?!" "Y-Y-Yes! I-I s-s-swear I-I-I d-d-d-d-do!" "Good!" ... (Let me take a break from the story to tell you how fucking awesome Rachel was! I nearly wanted to fuck her like I wanted to before, but I held myself back.) She knew I was getting a hard on by watching that and she grabbed her tits, licking her lips a bit at me before cutting Simon's straps.
"Th-Thank you. And I mean that." The man was nervous. He kept rubbing his wrists and gulping over and over again, as he watched my girl playing with the blade of her knife. She didn't even care that her thumb had been sliced completely open at that point. In fact, she relished in it, sticking it up to my mouth, which I sucked on. She kept grabbing her breasts as I suckled lovingly.
"I'd like to finish my tale, if you don't mind." Simon's sincere voice took back over. He was standing now, peering down at me. Granted it was only by a few inches, but he was definitely taller than me. He exhaled right into my face; the nastiest, most fowl odor touched my nostrils. It smelt of decaying meat and of a man who apparently never brushed his teeth for the last twenty or so years.
But, being a respectful person that I am, I ignored this vomit inducing stench and allowed him to finish. "After I torture them, the third and final installment of my murders commence. Thus the trifecta, like I mentioned before. I take a nice sharp knife, which can slice you at the touch and put it to the victim's wrists. I slowly drag the blade across, slitting both of them, and then cut a deep Roman numeral three into their abdomens. It's deep enough to bleed profusely, but not too deep as to disembowel them. I want them to bleed out nice and slow, so I can savor every last moment of their lives."
"And as they're about to fade away..." He was now inches from my face at this point. His fuckin' nasty ass mouth odor was threatening to turn my stomach too much. Again, I stifled it and let the man finish. "I take a chainsaw and I begin to lob off their limbs. Starting with their feet. I know that they're still alive and I want that. I want every last second of their lives to be as painful as possible. I don't fuckin' know why, I just do. It gets me off I guess."
(Just a side note. At this point of time, I really respected Simon for the murderer that he was. He was definitely someone I'd love to work with which is why he joined us later on.)
Simon had ran his fingers through that somewhat thick/thin, grease filled hair so many times that I lost count. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Rachel grasping her tooth blade tightly, waiting for a reason to kill him. And it was complete with an angry snarl on that smooth face of hers. (I love her for that!) Simon and I were only inches apart now.
"I then salt the wounds and start to cut off their arms with a nice dull hacksaw, right at the shoulder too! Of course, the slit wrists were just part of my signature. They're bound to bleed out faster now, so I salt those wounds too. I then take sulfuric acid from a car battery and cautiously poor it down their backs, until their spines poke out beautifully. From there, I sit back and relax with a nice cold beer as their lives fade away."
(Now, I personally loved Simon at this point. The way he works with his talent just blew me out of the water. I wanted nothing more than to learn from him, seeing as I was a budding murderer at the time.)
I remember, also at that time, Bruce had arrived with blood all over his hands and shirt. His mouth area looked as if it were freshly closed. (Like I said before, the spirits allow him to open it when the time is necessary.)
He was shaking a bit and if he had eyes, I know he'd be crying. The man's a big softy to be completely fuckin' honest. He kills and like I also said before, he doesn't like it. But when he goes into those rampages, he loses his mind and gets into the murderous role that his voices want him to play. The way Simon backed down from Bruce just made my day though.
(Just a reminder, the society wasn't officially formed at that time. Even though Rachel, Simon, Bruce and I were there in that room, we still had a far ways to go.)
(October 11th, 2041)
That was the story of Simon "Trifecta" Virgo. A man who's just as cold, if not colder than I am.Now, as I sit here staring through those bars at my fellow death row inmates, I can't help but feel angry. Yes, he was an inspiration to me and yes, I loved Rachel and cared for Bruce as well as the other four in our team. (There were eight of us by the way, before I was fuckin' framed and brought into jail.) God only knows how many of them fuckers are in the group now!
Sorry, I'm losing myself to the bitterness within me. I've come to peace with my forthcoming death, which is scheduled on my favorite holiday! Halloween has always been my event of choice because I could be who I truly was without any shame or belittlement. I know it was Rachel's as well, and she's the only one I can't stay mad at. Even though she's the one who set my ass up to be fucking arrested in the first place!
Ugh... I got a fuckin' headache... Tomorrow I will continue this story, and bring you a week into the future. It'll be on (December 21st, 1991). That is the day where I met the next prospect for our new murderous cult. Little did I know, I was only a few people shy of creating one of the deadliest factions in American history. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is Shane Sorinthia signing off!