Mustachios contd
- December 22, 2016
- RosesAtSunset
- 1 Comment
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"Very brave," a harsh, gravelly voice came from behind the two hulking Mustachios. A tall, slight man dressed in a deep blue double-breasted seemed to glide through his colleagues toward the grave and its soon-to-be occupant.
The juxtaposition of the well-dressed man in front of the heaving and filthy boy became more pronounced as they stood almost nose-to-nose now. A breath could have pushed the boy into the pit. He knew he was defenseless. They were playing with their food before they ate it. He was shaking involuntarily but he kept his eyes steady, locked into the dead silver eyes of the man they called "The Machine". It was the worst punishment the Mustachios had, so it seemed that he’d hit a nerve. The Machine pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped up the sweat on his brow, never removing his calculating stare from the boy. The heat beat down on them and the cicadas whined faintly in the distance.
“Wherishe!” He choked out, coughing and out of breath from spending the whole day in the heat without any water.
“Pardon?” The man smirked, knowing that the boy was very close to collapsing.
“Torr…” He burst into another coughing fit and gave up trying to tell them what they already knew.
The Machine waited until he was done retching to say, “I should have known you’d go looking for Torrence. Ahh I always found brotherly love to be so touching.” His wide, sinister smile made the situation seem surreal.
“Alive…” The boy mumbled, sinking to his knees, “Is he?”
“Not sure to be quite honest. That’s not my department,” The Machine shrugged, nonplussed, “But I do have a job offer for you, my friend.” He extended his hand in what could be surmised as a benevolent gesture.
The boy stayed on the ground, muddy brown clashing with pure silver until The Machine sighed, “Well, you have two choices. Take the job. Or I push you into this lovely pit you made and bury you alive.”
“Go fuck yourself,” The boy managed to sputter out before he began to retch again.
The Machine's lips split apart cruelly.