Pain Case

Part IV:

I imagine that if there are any others in my position, they very likely ask themselves what a new found sadist does with himself after vengeance?  Well, I'll tell you what he does, exactly what his фигня country tells him to do until his фигня country decides to retire him and he becomes a ghost.

I imagine many ex KGB feel the way I felt when they told me my job was over and that I was scheduled for execution due to the danger factor of keeping me alive.

"мудак!" I shouted over and over again to no avail from my cell.

For years, I had done things like calculate the depth of an incision to slowly remove skin from a persons body, in varying sections; I had calculated the exact position of nerve endings so as to cut every one so quickly that a person would experience indescribable pain before telling me and my government everything they needed to know before I disposed of him anyway.  Not many people know what it is to cut out a voice box with frightening speed and accuracy while denying the person the quick, "bleed to death" courtesy.  Better still, not many people know what it's like to have electrical impulses screwing with your moral compass to the point you enjoy said activities.

It was a Wednesday when they came for me.  Hump day.  Oh did I have fun with that one.

The guard was a педик.  I could tell from his intonation and the way he carried himself.  He didn't know that I knew and he made himself that much more macho in order that he might disguise his perversion as he dealt with me and my rather handsome form each day.

"Эй педик! Приходите дать мне минет!" I taunted from my cell.

He now knew that I knew and I counted on that.  In his fit of rage, he came to beat me and called for back up to hold me down.

"Собираетесь ли вы попробовать и ебать меня, педик?" I said.  I taunted more because the more pressure he applied to me, the more pressure I had to break the cuffs I had on and flick the metal at the light in the enclosed cell to do my work.

As the light smashed and went out, I grabbed his night stick and impaled the other guard from the bottom of his chin and out the top of his head.  I made sure I hit as many nerve endings as I could and also to miss the major arteries and veins so he might have knowledge of my act and even a little pain in the few seconds he had as he gargled his last breath.

In that same instant I had rapped Маленькая фея on the head so he had now passed out.

As I watched them both with night vision, the silence and darkness gave me an idea.  I tilted the impaled guard's head back and drove the stake into the wall. With his cuffs, I cuffed the other guard behind his back and pulled down his pants.  With his utility knife I cut off the impaled guard's phallus and ran it through with a pointed, whittled down night stick I grabbed from his utility belt.  I then rammed that into the анус of the passed out guard.

With their blood, I wrote on the walls, "For god and country.  I am your best.  Now I am free, Мать Россия ..."

That night, I would travel to America and let them know of what had been done to me and perhaps gain use and freedom through the defection.

I was wrong. America is no freer to the weaponized killer and ex compatriot that the Russians want for war crimes.  I was like the toy in the common phrase, "Мальчики и их игрушки ..."  

Fuck it.  It wasn't like this old Ruskie didn't know how to hide...