Member 2: "Master, we found this worm trying to flee through the kitchen carrying this bag. Slithering towards the window in a pitiful attempt at escape."
Anumors turned slowly, his mask betraying no emotion as he studied the captive. There was something off about this supposed waiter - a tension in his posture, a glint in his eye that spoke of barely contained violence.
"P-Please..." the waiter's voice was little more than a gurgling rasp. "I was just...just following ord-"
In a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow, Anumors seized the waiter's face, wrenching his chin upwards with a brutal grip, forcing their eyes to meet through the soulless void of his mask. The waiter's eyes widened, not with fear, but with a perverse sort of anticipation.
His hollow gaze then turned towards his subordinates "Fools...how could your wretched senses fail to recognize this man?"
Member 3 & 4: The two instantly dropped to their knees, trembling "F-Forgive us, Master! Our senses proved unworthy. We failed to identify this filth at first glance." Their voices shook with primal terror. "We should have eliminated him instantly, bringing you his severed head instead of allowing his foul existence to persist!"
Anumors let their pleas hang suspended in the fetid air, as if considering the merit of their groveling. Finally, his tone sliced through the dread-soaked silence. "Your blunder is forgivable."
His attention then refocused on the pitiful waiter still gripped in his clutches. A low, joyless laugh came from the darkness of Anumor's mask, a sound that chilled the blood. "In truth, I desired to make this sadistic insect deeply familiar with the intense agonies of hell...all by my own hand." His tone took on a evil pleasure.
"But now...fate has proven generous. I was prepared to hunt you down after massacring this vile congregation. Instead..." His skeletal grip tightened mercilessly. "...the doomed prey willingly scurries into the hunter's grasp. How...delightfully fortuitous."
As if a veil had been lifted, the waiter's demeanor changed entirely. Gone was the cowering servant, replaced by a figure of nightmarish infamy. His eyes blazed with unholy glee, his posture straightening despite Anumors' crushing grip.
"Ah, so the great Black Death finally sees through my disguise," he purred, voice dripping with perverse pleasure. "I must say, it's an honor to be recognized by one's idol."
The waiter in Anumors' grasp was no mere servant - he was one of the seven most dangerous and wanted men in the entire country. A name etched in infamy, seventh only to the Black Death himself - the 'Head Harvester'.
"The Head Harvester," Anumors growled, confirming their worst fears.
A collective shudder ran through the room. The Head Harvester's reputation preceded him - a psychopathic butcher who harvested the heads of his victims with cold indifference, sparing neither infant nor teenager.
Two hundred and ninety-eight young lives had been extinguished by his hand, each one a testament to his unquenchable bloodlust.
Even for one as steeped in death as Anumors, the slaughter of innocents, especially children, represented a line too abhorrent to cross. For years, he had sought to deliver this fiend unto oblivion's judgement.
But the Head Harvester was a master of deception and concealment. Working alone, he slipped through the Black Death's grasp time and again. Anumors' elite assassins could never infiltrate the butcher's territory - until now, when fate had led the prey into the hunter's jaws.
A sadistic cackle erupted from the Head Harvester's lips. "Hahaha...I knew accepting this job carried death's wager. Evading the Black Death's grasp forever was impossible." His eyes danced with sickening glee. "But it was such exquisite fun while it lasted."
He leaned in closer to Anumors, his next words a rapturous hiss. "Slaughtering those innocent, pleading souls...listening to their cries for mercy, for their parents as life seeped from their bodies...it was bliss beyond compare." An almost orgasmic shudder coursed through him.
"I know my time has come to taste that same agonizing oblivion. If you hadn't released that poisonous gas through the air vents, I wouldn't have been slowed down. Maybe I could have escaped before your minions caught me."
His polluted gaze met the endless void of Anumors' mask, voice taking on a fevered, worshipful tone. "I beg you, my lord, my inspiration...grant me the honor of your blade reaping what I have sown. Let me intimately experience the hell you have opened my eyes to."
His polluted gaze met the endless void of Anumors' mask. "End my worthless life by your own merciless hands. For it would be a dream bestowed - the greatest honor of my entire existence, to be slain by my dark idol himself."
Anumors remained motionless as a statue, allowing the Head Harvester's sickening words to hang suspended in the fetid air. When he finally spoke, his tone lashed out like the crack of a whip.
"Your pathetic devotions only serve to further expose your idiocy." Each word carried a untold malice. "I am the chosen messenger of destruction, bringing the age of eternal night's and cleansing this decayed world of the unworthy."
His grip tightened viciously, causing the Reaper to wince as Anumors' fingers dug into his flesh. "You are a worthless, festering speck playing at the art of death - twisting my justice into your depraved butchery of innocents."
Anumors fixed the Head Harvester with a piercing stare "Before granting you your twisted idea of 'heaven' by my own unholy hand..." His tone carried murderous finality "Answer me this, wretch - by whose orders were you present here? What sickening task were you charged with?"
The Head Harvester met Anumors' pitiless glare with repulsive, unrestrained delight, unleashing a sadistic burst of laughter that could curdle even the blackest of souls. "Why, isn't it obvious...Mr. Black Death?" He leaned in, perverse rapture dripping from his lips. "We are both here at the behest of the same foolish child."
His cracked voice took on a mocking lilt. "Though our reasons may have been differed initially, in the end our goals merged as one - to deliver the exquisite agonies of death to our agreed upon prey."
Anumors' rasping tone took on a timbre of sheer, unbridled rage. "That foolish child! He went too far by finding and convincing you..." His grip tightened painfully on the Head Harvester's face. "All to go after an innocent boy who simply witnessed our encounter? I knew he carried darkness, but this..." His tone lowered to a cold, cutting whisper. "This crime cannot be forgiven. I will personally set him on the right path once my work here is complete."
Anumors leaned in close until his soulless mask nearly touched the vile killer. "Now tell me, scum. Who were the poor souls you targeted with your wicked blades?"
The Head Harvester parted his cracked lips to answer but before the damning words could spill forth, two of his companions came running up with urgency on their faces.
Member 5 & 6: "Master, we found the body of one of our waiters in the dumpster outside the kitchen window."
Anumors: "How pathetic, he couldn't even survive this simple mission. Tell me, which waiter was it?"
Member 5 & 6: "It's the one who kept begging you to join this massacre, even after you refused him multiple times."
Anumors: He went silent for a moment, disappointment showing. Then he looked at the Head Harvester, noticing his clothes. "How sad, he was one of my most loyal members and you killed him. That uniform belongs to him." His claws released the Reaper's cheeks and tightened around his neck. "How dare you disrespect him by stealing his clothes and dumping his body in the trash."
Head Harvester: He barely managed an evil laugh. "What, you thought you're the only one who can use deadly poison to kill? How pathetic that one of your loyal dog..." Before he could say more, the Black Death's grip on his neck tightened, choking off his words.
Anumors: "Enough of your senseless babbling. Answer me - who else did that boy send you after?"
Head Harvester: says in mocking sadness "Aw, your minions ruined the fun. I was just about to tell you." voice turns normal "Those lackeys of yours took my bag when they captured me. Why don't you open it and find out for yourself?" says in an evil manner
The bag that the Head Harvester carried lay beside him, a grim testament to his murderous deeds. A slow trickle of blood seeped from its confines, staining the floor with a crimson trail. Who's blood could it be?