Mutilator from the Grave

by Thomas, P M

  Alyosha climbed up off the snow, placed his back beside the train, checked his surroundings, there was no sign of the undead avenger lurking anywhere, only darkness with flecks of white snow dancing majestically all around him.

  He stepped quickly with extreme caution, he could taste his freedom from the decomposing walking dead, the cool gangster would be protected in the neon lit, vodka drenched, well armed shelter of Evengi's nightclub.

  Heading past the elongated line of metal connected to metal, crouching under the last cover of the train itself, he peeked out the side, the gate to the outside world was all clear, the vengeful zombie was nowhere in sight, he must have been lost in the complex of unused railroad trains. There was a lot for one man to cover, it was impossible for the undead executioner to find him among all those empty carriages.

  Home free, it was now or never, Alyosha dashed for it, his feet stampeded off the snow in heavy thumps, he approached the only means of entry inside and outside of the train yard. His deliverance was in plain sight, each step got him closer to ridding himself of the undead bane to his life. He had never been more relieved in his entire lifetime, when his whole well-being was jeopardy, it gave him a bigger appreciation of seeing another day intact.

  Passing through the opening, the wide open street smothered in snow expanding in the distance, the cool handed criminal gloated to himself, he had outsmarted the living dead with his own smooth cunning. That was not a feat any regular person could claim, they would likely be considered insane and locked up for stating such raving lunacy.

  The spacious area hit a slight obstacle ahead, it moved in towards him at an alarming speed. A white flash blinded Alyosha, he was sent falling onto the ground with a busted nose by the velocity of the hard object hitting him in the face.

  Dazed from the solid blow that struck him head on, he was dragged off back into the train yard by the obstruction. His double vision cleared, he came to, he tried to stand and move, his body could not, it was held down by rope tied around his hands and ankles. He attempted to speak, his muffled words could not come through the gag holding his mouth shut. All he could do was look up at the shape standing over him, the cause of his capture.

  His heart could have stopped, Victor had caught him in the end, as he foretold. Alyosha was only succeeding in wasting time.

  Victor was two steps ahead of the opposition, he had predicted he would attempt making a run for it out the train yard, so instead of trying to come to the criminal, the mutilator bided his time, he waited for the criminal to come to him then subdued him straightaway with a well orchestrated punch to the nose.

  The slick thug had underestimated how resourceful his opponent was, he was thinking two dimensionally, that was his undoing.

  The revengeful mutilator did not delay for one more second, the execution would commence without any hesitation. There would be no final words for the convicted, all Victor wanted from him was to suffer the way he and his party made the two departed lovers suffer. They were not entitled to any say in the matter, Victor and Indria were not permitted such a thing that night.

  Alyosha squirmed on the track he was conveniently placed on. His executioner had something more creative and agonizing in mind concerning his capital punishment. An end that made his blood run cold.

  Victor stood beside a behemoth of a freight train, built to carry over a hundred thousand tons, it had a sturdy and brawny weight under its wheels. He imagined what it could do the human body if subjected to such an immense physical property bearing down on it. It would be the flawless means to carry out justice on the guilty.

  He set the behemoth into motion, stood to the side to get a good, close view of the execution. The steel wheels slowly moved, screeching off the tracks, hauled the gargantuan steel megaton train towards the riving and wriggling human worm attempting to break free from the rope, there would be no such luck. Victor had thought two further steps ahead and tied the rope not just to his hands and ankles, also around the track itself, he was held tight and secure. His destination was with the metal juggernaut and that alone.

  The suffering he faced was too great, precisely how Victor envisioned it. He was not disappointed with the taste of the cold vengeance.

  The wheels ran over Alyosha's head and groin. His skull and crotch were gradually applied an unbearable pressure, the tons and tons of weight was brought down on it, cracking and crushing at it until it gave in, splitting his head in half like a ripe melon and splattering his love organs into mush. A fitting demise for the scoundrel, his days of violating women were finished. The train ran over the mutilated body of Alyosha.

  Victor exited the train yard, his work there was done. He left the butchered remains of the guilty to freeze over. Someone would discover it in the morning. The mutilator from the grave had bigger fish to fry. The mastermind who arranged the incident, responsible for pulling the trigger, along with his empire was next on his list.

  He would wipe them all off the face of the earth, cleansed from existence. Victor would be paying Evengi's club an unexpected visit.

  15

  Evengi sat in his throne room, immersed in his world of organized crime, gloating like the monarch of death, mayhem and corruption he was. He basked in his powerful empire, big in the company of his armed goons at his beck and call.

  Without them to protect him, he would be as weak and defenceless as the skeletal wretch he despised, for he saw a reflection of his own self in him, what he really was behind his operations, his desk and his suit.

  The sins of his past were buried under a sea of ignorance and indifference, he was not losing sleep over the systematic murdering of two young lovers at the prime of their romance in cold blood. In fact, he enjoyed it.

  Killing people was no different from shooting a deer or a bear, it was a cruel sport in his eyes, and the more crueller it was, the more enjoyment he got out of it. It was his favourite type of blood sport. He preferred pulling the trigger himself on his kill rather than allow one of his henchmen to do the honours. Seeing them die in front of his eyes, by his own hands was more rewarding for him than bedding a woman. His erection and climax came with inflicted pain and death on those below his imperial feet.

  Some may have called him psychotic and homicidal, but those with a mouth on them did not live long enough to tell their tale after he blew their brains over the floor and dumped their bodies in the lake.

  The crime boss did not consider himself a psychopath who got an intense thrill from killing, he looked at it in a different light, it was his profession and he was good at what he did. A talent like his could not be afforded to go to waste.

  He enjoyed his job, and there was no finer work than one that was enjoyed. It became more of a hobby with perks.

  Evengi leaned back, lit up a cigar and blew out a ring of smoke, he relished his kingdom forged by his own laborious hands.

  It was so good to be the king.

  The monarch's relishing in his mighty kingdom would have to wait. His castle had been invaded, the king was under siege.

  Down below, calamity shook the floor. It was not the rowdy, boisterous yelling of the customers having a wild time. It was the piercing commotion of the dancers, drinkers and staff running for their lives, yelling in a panic at the invader barging his way in.

  Trouble was forcing itself into Evengi's territory, a rival organization with some nerve or a death wish were storming his operation, with intentions to take it over. They had another thing coming. The crime boss would have their nerves cut out and grant their wish for death. His henchmen hurried out, locked and loaded to take the threat out. Evengi reached inside and pulled out his own pistol, any that came storming into his office unannounced, the last thing they would see is a well shot bullet flying for them.

  Deep down, he hoped it would come to that. Evengi looked forward to firing his gun off and lightening its load into some penetrated flesh, filling the body full of his lead. His cock hardened at the very idea of it.

  His
weapon could not wait to go off with a mighty bang.

  Evengi listened out for the gunfire and chaos of a furious shootout, awaited to hear the intruders mowed down by the oppressive fire of his lethal weapons. What his keen ears picked up was not the case.

  Gun fire from his forces boomed and rattled throughout the nightclub, the opposition on the other hand did not fire a single shot. They had to have been the most passive adversaries to challenge the Borisovitch family.

  Except the enemy was not passive either. The shrill screams flooded the dance floor combined with the slashing of flesh and of bone. The intruder was using a bladed weapon to eliminate the competition.

  When he glanced out his window to take a curious look at what was going on down there, Evengi was amazed to discover the threat was one solitary man hacking and slashing his men to pieces like they were paper.

  Whoever it was in the mask and suit laying waste to his men, they were contradicting the age old saying of never bringing a knife to a gun fight.

  His intruder must have been packing some resilient body armour under his suit, the amount of bullets he was bombarded with from every angle, turning him into a walking cylinder would have sent him dropping dead by now. He kept walking and massacring, showing no signs of slowing or stopping.

  The most powerful weaponry loaded with highly destructive ammunition could not bring the steel faced mutilator down. He would keep on ticking, pushing through the crime lord's high defences, wiping out every last one to reach his target, the bringer of his own misery and his own death. Evengi would know how unbearable it was to face such eternal unrest, just like his fallen comrades had.

  The night was becoming interesting. His intruder would likely be facing the boss himself in little time, and when he did, it would be the end of the line.

  A shame he would have to kill someone like that, the threat clearly had some skill, he could have used a killer like him in his ranks. A pity his impressive talent would be squandered working against him.

  Nobody was spared from the wrath of the vengeful shape terrorizing the club, they all had to suffer for being in league with the savage monster who laid waste to the innocent for his own gratification, they were just as low as their boss.

  This was the life they chose, their own decision to be the scum of the earth, they had to be cleansed just like the cause of the disease dwelling in his throne room.

  The masked bringer of death ventured into the back area of the nightclub, past the cover up, into the actual truth, slaughtering more who stood in his way to claiming what was rightfully his, the life of their boss, the man they protected with their lives, throwing themselves at the face of their demise in the vain hope their leader would live.

  The piles of slashed and mutilated bodies accumulated in the entire building was higher than Evengi's own genocidal campaigns against his enemies. The mutilator was a more vindictive and passionate killer than the crime boss ever hoped to be.

  It wasn't long and the door to his office was booted open by his brutal visitor. Evengi applauded the masked assailant for making it this far, he had to congratulate him, no one had ever had the opportunity to stand face-to-face with the boss without an appointment. Now that he was there, the boss would fulfil his aspiration for a one-to-one with Evengi.

  The steel avenger stepped forward, held the crimson blade out, rested it on Evengi's throat, his objective was obvious, he was going to kill him. But first, he would let the sadistic beast know who he was dealing with, stare into the true face of his death.

  A powerful fist collided with the mutilator, the force of the blow sent him dropping onto the desk. It was a punch he was well acquainted with.

  The hulking gangster, Evengi's personal bodyguard and muscle had not lost his hard edge over the two years. He had hardened it up tenfold, his strength and force was triple than it was that dreaded night.

  The more things changed, the more it remained the same, history was repeating itself. Victor was knocked down from the devastating impact of the bulking Goliath, just as he was that night. Unable to fight back, on his knees at the mercy of the hulk.

  Evengi laughed, taunting the defenceless assassin. His crusade to murder him had reached its end, he was dealing with the big fish here, not some punk with a gun. No one could stop him, not even his own father. Evengi was the criminal emperor of Russia's underworld, and some trained killer in a mask was not up to his imposing stature.

  The crime boss aimed the colt single action army straight at the dank, hollow voids of the mask's eye holes. Looking death right in the face, Evengi was going to send him packing on a one way ticket to his desolate oblivion.

  16

  Victor could not let his road end with the same bitter defeat, he had failed his beloved Indria once before, he had no right to fail her again.

  He was not weak, he was stronger than ever. He was not a mortal held back by his own flesh, he was a being that had transcended his own body, powered by his soul alone. The mutilator had defied the laws of nature for an important reason, he had come to this point, he would go further and accomplish his purpose.

  The hammer was cocked, the bullet hovered in the barrel, anticipating the pull to send it firing out in a violent blast. Evengi would savour the sweet euphoria of decorating the wall of his office in his greatest adversary's brain matter.

  He would have done, had he not underestimated the resilience behind the steel mask. He was not dealing with any ordinary man. As he found out.

  The mutilator grasped Evengi's arm, the coldness of his gloved hands froze the crime boss' warm blood to ice. He rose from the desk and in one forceful push, broke every bone in Evengi's appendage, leaving his shooting arm useless.

  The hulking thug went to counter the mutilator's attack on his boss, planned to take him down with his usual ease.

  Victor was two steps ahead of the bulking mass of muscle. As the hulk went to grab his more sleeker masked opponent and crush every bone in his body, the mutilator used his advantage of speed over brawn to evade and avoid his towering enemy's slower, clunkier blows. The bringer of death had the upperhand, the fight was turning one-sided in his favour. Each missed punch sent the agile assassin closer to the window of the office, overlooking the club below. Backing right into it, the bulking gangster assumed it was a benefit for him. He would send him hurdling out the broken glass.

  Victor predicted his brawny rival would think like that. He deliberately put himself at a disadvantage to present himself a clear advantage.

  The gargantuan brute swung for his steel faced symbol of man's inevitable end, a conclusion which was coming for him. Victor dodged the clumsy strike and with his opponent's defences wide open, he sliced the machete at his neck.

  The towering thug tumbled through the window with his head separating from his body. The decapitated remains fell onto the disco floor. That was the muscle taken care of, he too had faced the mutilator's justice.

  Victor had only one final soul to judge and execute, the mastermind responsible for causing the catastrophe. In a way, Evengi had brought it on himself, had he not pulled the trigger that night, his creation would not have come back to get even on his creator. The crime boss did not understand what he was saying, his memory of the masked assassin's story was vague. He had killed many men and women, he had no idea what made this one so important.

  The steel face burned with anger, his dry voice hissed with a scowling, venomous bile that was infecting his soul. He killed two young lovers, tore them apart, left them to rot. Now one of those wronged by his cruel malice was standing before him, prepared to make him pay the ultimate price for his heinous misdeeds.

  Evengi found it preposterous, the dead could not rise from the graves, it was not some cheesy zombie movie, the masked man was full of shit. Victor would prove it to him. He removed the steel mask hiding his true face.

  The crime lord's mouth dropped, emitting a silent gasp, it was unbelievable what he saw staring back at him, the decomposed face of a man long
dead and buried with cold, dead eyes filled with a deep burning hatred for the man who stole everything he cherished from him. He never would have believed the dead could walk unless he had perceived it with his own two aghast eyes.

  The night was shaping up to be more interesting than he thought.

  The living hell he put Victor and Indria through would seem like a moment in heaven compared to what he had in store for the crime boss.

  Not if Evengi had any say in it. Using his other hand, he grabbed the pistol and went to shoot him down. The mutilator threw the machete, the flying blade pierced through his shoulder, rendering his other arm inoperable.

  The crime boss was done for, all he could do was sit on his throne and be dethroned by his hateful assassin.

  Victor stood behind his disarmed adversary, reached in his suit jacket filled with holes. The item in question was luckily unscathed from the intense waves of bullets ripping holes through him. He pulled out a bottle of a green, clear liquid swiped from the chemistry class in the university that used to house some kind of significance in his past life.

  He opened the bottle, a strong choking chemical smell flooded the office. Victor poured it over Evengi's head, the liquid ran over his face, suffocating him with its toxic aroma. The chemical hissed and singed on the crime boss' bubbling, blistering face.

  The erosive acid was eating away at his skin, melting the layers of flesh down to the red tender muscle beneath it. The pain was legendary, intensified by Evengi having no mouth left to scream and let the torture out, he had to bottle it inside where it thrived, causing him a huge deal of discomfort.

  He could feel himself decaying away, his flesh and skin was melting, dissolving into a putrid acidic smoke. The stink did not last for him as his nose was boiling and falling off his face. His lungs were clogged with the chemical, blocking any form of oxygen.