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Literature
GID Nick 3
Peering through the old, cracked window Draven could see the black blurs moving through the trees. He should have known that the old crow wouldn’t wait to find out where he’d brought the kid. It didn’t matter that he’d blindfolded him, the damn bird had followed the scent of his blood. No matter, the old hunter thought to himself. While the barrier he’d placed around the otherwise abandoned cabin wasn’t strong, he’d used the essence from the crow’s own feather to create it. Proud as that bird was, it wouldn’t send the other birds in to do his dirty work.
Turning his dark blue eyes away fr
Literature
GID Maxwell
Alone in his room, Maxwell wasn’t prepared for where the night would take him or just how much his life was about to change. Sitting on the edge of his computer chair, headphones blasting music into his ears and eyes glued to the game he was playing he didn’t hear the front door open downstairs. The hushed voices and creak of the fourth step went unheard. The slow, careful opening of his bedroom door went unseen. It wasn’t until he caught the phantom reflection of a masked man on his computer screen that he knew anything was wrong, and by then it was too late.
Maxwell pushed himself out of his chair so quickly it tipped and
Literature
[gid]Gunner: Carson
Carson was a sick, twisted son-of-a-bitch without an ounce of shame. He openly employed a full-time torturer, just in case he decided someone’s fingers needed to be broken or some of their insides needed to be removed without killing them. Said torturer was also good for more... creative punishments, which meant Gunner knew the man well enough to despise him on a personal level as well as on principle. Brian, the torturer in question (and really, it should be illegal for a man that evil to have such a normal name) hummed to himself as he circled Gunner, bullwhip still in hand, surveying his work so far. Gunner couldn’t feel individual injuries anymore. Between the cane, the flogger, the whip, and the hours they’d been at this, his entire back was just one giant mass of pain. Gunner guessed he should be grateful there were no fresh burns, at least. Carson had graduated to cigars at some point in the last four years, and Gunner did not want to be able to compare cigarette and
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Oh my. What a wicked genius you are! Designer of tortures untold...