Villain For Hire

By: Sarah Wolf

Date: 13th Aug 2021

 

 

A hand wraps against the rusty sliding metal door that separates the world from the Dollís personal space. The woman standing on the safe side of it is dressed like she just came from yoga at the devil’s house. In her hand is a white bag bursting with content. She knocks on the door again, and leans into the door, trying to hear if there is any motion inside. The door slides open and she pulls her head away quickly, smiling as her eyes meet the Dollís. A latex mask that covers all but her eyes and mouth glistens in the sun, as her eyes squint to avoid it. The Doll looks at the visitor and for a moment doesnít react. But a grin slowly appears, and she leans her head outward, kissing the woman on the cheek, and inviting her in. As the visitor makes her way into the interior of the more factory style loft that is far more former than latter, she cranes her neck and looks at the ceiling, studying the shadows above her head as carefully as she can. The last time she was here, there was a portly man suspended there by hooks sunk into his flesh. She half expected to see a thinner version of the same man, or least the decaying corpse of one. She didnít see either, but it was dark, and chances were one or the other existed within the void. Like a cat trapped in a box, but make it a man suspended from a ceiling by the very flesh of his form. Sitting down at the patio furniture that makes up the sum of most of Dollís furniture, Michelle Moore reaches into the white bag and pulls out two wrapped bagels. One is an everything bagel with vegetable cream cheese, which she puts down in front of herself, and the other is an onion bagel with salmon cream cheese, which she places in front of Doll. Doll brings two bottles of ice water from the microfridge, which is what minifridges are called now, and hands one to Michelle. Michelle, who is still taking in the interior, chews her bagel with one hand in front of her mouth, blocking the processing of said bagel as she asks Doll a question in the midst of doing so.

-*Miss Michelle*-
Love what youíve done with the place.

Dollface
Iíve done nothing.

-*Miss Michelle*-
And I love it.

Dollface
What do I owe the visit?

-*Miss Michelle*-
One, Weíre friends. Iím allowed to stop by, no?

Dollface
Yes. But you donít. So why?

-*Miss Michelle*-
I wanted to check in. Is that a crime? Why does everyone always act like I canít be friendly!

Dollface
Because for the most part, you are not. Itís why we get along. Why are you here?

-*Miss Michelle*-
Ok. So maybe thereís a small reason. I wanted to make sure you were ok with the match coming up this week. You and Anicka. After what happened last week. This fight means something. The other times, meh. But this. You need to be able to put her down.

Dollface
Is he worried?

-*Miss Michelle*-
He doesnít know anything that would worry him.

Dollface
…thank you for that.

-*Miss Michelle*-
No sweat. But listen. If youíre not okay, thereís ways.

Dollface
I get that. I would take you up on it, but there are things in play now that make my feelings, one way or the other, inconsequential. Iíll be fine, because I donít have a choice. Because this is part of the journey. As much as I may feel or wish otherwise, this needs to be done. I can continue to duck and avoid, but at the end of it, how will we know…How will we move past it. So thank you, but no. The Swan is going to have her wings clipped.

-*Miss Michelle*-
Like I said, Iím not worried. I know who you are deep down, and nothing and no one gets in your way of something you want. Just had to ask. But,..good bagels though.

Dollface
Are these…?

-*Miss Michelle*-
Yeah, say what you want about Kal Fagan, but he sure does put out a good protein based bread.

Dollface
Iíd rather say what I want about his brothers.

-*Miss Michelle*-
oh shit, did you see Black is getting another crack at Clauson? You should so fuck it up for him.

Dollface
Clauson, that hobbit, got his free one. If I do decide to interfere, Itíll be to snap that dainty little neck of his. Vin will be seeing me again, though. But not until too late.

-*Miss Michelle*-
…you like me? I mean, for me? Not just because I used my position as GM to hire you before OPW died?

Dollface
Yes, why?

-*Miss Michelle*-
Because you donít like anyone. And it’s just..

Dollface
We have commonality.

-*Miss Michelle*-
True.

A moment of silence spread between them like water rushing onto the shore of a beach, but as it were with friends like them, it dissipated quickly. Dollface went from pawing at her bagel, not sure if she wished to go through the trouble of picking the bread from the caters left where her teeth were to eat it. Pushing it away, she rested one hand on her head, and the other on the table.

Dollface
I need to ask you something. When they did what they did, did you beg? Not them. But..something else?

-*Miss Michelle*-
…like, god?

Dollface
…something else.

-*Miss Michelle*-
Oh. No. But what I went through wasnít as…I begged for the strength to get out of my chains?

Dollface
When I was there, in that room, I called out for help. First from god, then from death. And when neither showed, I asked for something else. I donít know if I got it. I could just be crazy.

-*Miss Michelle*-
You could be. But let me ask. What does it matter? If you got this from a deity or who you really are, does it change what you want to do?

Dollface
No.

-*Miss Michelle*-
Then eat your bagel and beat up the shitheads, lifes too short for these questions.

Dollface smiled. She thought back to all the years sheís known Michelle. The times theyíd spent in the same room, but barely speaking. She wishes she could go back and change it. The pain she felt, the one they shared, connected them. They might have very little else in common and still feel connected this way. Of course, they had so much more in common, they just couldnít discuss it. Not without one or both of them getting enraged to the point of seething.

Dollface
What are your plans for the day?

-*Miss Michelle*-
I got stuff. Nothing I canít put off. Why?

Dollface
Thereís a client. One you might enjoy dealing with.

-*Miss Michelle*-
Pass. I appreciate the invite. But I want my kidís first murder to be something theyíre a part of by choice. Plus the B should be there, real family moment.

Dollface
Iím sorry. I forgot. How is that going?

-*Miss Michelle*-
Itís not terrible. Some days are weirder than others.

Dollface
Iíll never know.

Michelle reached out and put her hand on Dollís hand. For a second, Doll took comfort. But only for a second, and she ripped her hand away, angry that she would even let it happen. Michelle apologized, but then quickly tried to put her hand back on Dollís. Doll finally put both her hands in the air to stop it, and Michelle shrugged, going back to her bagel. Doll put her hands back down and Michelle leaped at the chance to comfort her again, finally making Doll stand up and walk away, as Michelle laughed with cream cheese in the corner of her mouth. Michelle made a move as if she was going to leap up and hug her, and Doll walked further away, pointing at Michelle who was smiling while chewing.

-*Miss Michelle*-
Youíre so cold. Jesus.

Dollface
…that other thing. Did you tell..

-*Miss Michelle*-
Yeah, he knew what was up. I mean, I was serious but the go ahead was appreciated.

Dollface
Shame. If they were smarter theyíd have taken you up on it.Doll looked down at the bed in front of where she was standing. The tattered and old sheets sewn together into a blanket. The pillow that was made up of several sweaters stuffed into a pillowcase. And she got even angrier. Grabbing her duffle bag, she hauled ass out of the room and almost slid the metal door off its track with the power she put into it. Had this been anyone else who stormed out of a room like that without a goodbye, Michelle might have taken it personally. But this was par for the course with Doll, and while it took some getting used to, it had been gotten used to. Michelle stood up and walked to the closet where the morgue slab was located with the restrained gimp within, and knocked on it powerfully.

-*Miss Michelle*-
Hey…do you want her bagel?a small voice responded Ďno thank youí and Michelle shrugged before returning to her table. She pulled up her phone and began to look at tiktokís as she ate, every now and then pushing bits of cream cheese away from the corner of her mouth, which collected as she chuckled. Had she turned around, she wouldíve seen that there was a man dangling from the ceiling, and if she really looked, sheíd have seen there were at least two more.

Dollface on the other hand opens up the rear double doors of her uhaul cargo van just outside the loft. The van has been modded heavily on the inside, with clothing racks, a vertical toolbox bolted to the side, and a few other chests all secured to either the floor or the wall. She steps into the van and goes through the clothing rack, finally pulling out a reflective vest, and a hard hat, before closing the double doors with a slam. When the doors reopen the van is in a completely different area, and possibly a different state entirely. Dollface steps out in a jumpsuit, a reflective vest, a flesh colored latex mask and a hard hat. Throwing glasses over her eye holes, and throwing the hard hat on the top of her head, . She pulls an identification card on a rope from her pocket, slings over her neck, and makes her way down the sidewalk. She comes to the worst house on the block. Not in total disrepair but a few months from being far past it. Newspapers, not the kind you subscribe to, the kind they just leave you, are piled up on the side of the stoop leading to the front door. The rain has made them less a pile and more of one solid object. Dollface looks up and down the street for prying eyes before she rings the doorbell. When she does, she does so several times in a row, making sure to get the man irritated before he even makes it to the door. Irritated people make mistakes. Like not paying attention. From the steps she can see through the window despite the amount of dirt built up, and watches as a tall, lanky, cowpoke rises from the crater his body has created in the limp cushions of the furniture that was almost as old as he. He holds his head as if his frontal lobe was going to pop out of some easily released flap, like a potato head ass but his head. Staggering across the room, he stumbles as he reaches the door and falls against it. He curses, not the door, nor the booze, nor the messy floor that any normal person would have an issue with traversing, let alone a perpetually drunk one. He curses the woman on the other side. He has no idea how much heís going to do that in the moments to come. Swinging the door open he yells sounds instead of words and does his best to steady his vision, albeit failing more than trying. Dollface thinks about all the ways this could go. She would go to speak, but look down and see her shoelace is untied. Sheíd hand the man her clipboard and ask if he can hold it. Silently obliging but hoping sheíll hurry up and get to the point. She would jab him in the leg with the sedative and watch him fall. As she decides what to do, her teeth press against each other, cracking at the pressure her jaw supplies as it moves. He is looking at the neighbors house, once owned by a family of Asians who used to stink up the entire block with their constant cooking of rice and fish. Now it was owned by a small jewish man who only put out his garbage once a week. He never thought heíd miss the fish smell. Also, the asians were nice, this guy was a cunt. So was he, but this guy was the conflicting type. Thatís when she decided that the best course of action is, of course, the most fun. She throws a left hand and blasts the man in the jaw. As he falls, he bounces off a hamper full of pissy clothes and ricochets to the floor with a thump. Dollface enters slowly, moving more like a snake than human, her eyes just as predatory and her form just as violent. She pulls the door shut behind her, and secures him to the railway with a set of zip ties that immediately begin to cut off the circulation to his hands, before returning to the van to get the rest of her set up. As she pulled the bag from the back of the van, she had a small flashback from Blood Money. Of Anicka putting her down, and removing her from the ongoings. She couldíve done more. She could have made sure her dream came true, right there. But Anicka ruined that. And as much as she could forgive, she could not forgive that. It is hours later, and the room that was his living room is now here operating room. The coffee table is secured between the couch and a chair, and he is laid upon it, his legs folded over to the side, and zip tied to the legs of the table. His hands are done up the same way except they are zip tied to each other under the table. Dollface sits on a fold up stool, looking at the manís genital area with an inquisitive eye. Heís able to lift his head just so much, just enough, to see her expression. When her eyes snap away from his crotch and her gaze meets his, he is suddenly terrified. The sound of her laughter, deep and dark laughter, are what awakened him. He tries to scream, but all he can produce is a gurgling noise. A light turns on and shines down at his face and the light seers straight through to his brain, as if it were made of fire itself.

Dollface
Hello, Harrison. Howíre you feeling?

He tries to answer, but heís too drugged up by the IVís in his arm, or too disoriented from the concussion he most likely suffered from her initial hit. He just lays there, only his head moving from side to side. Doll can see he is fighting to maintain consciousness, and decides to do him a kindness. She reaches into the bag at her feet, and pulls out a Stratis injector. Removing the cartridge, she loads it with another one which is marked with a yellow stripe. Once itís loaded into place, she presses it against his leg and it produces a clicking noise. Dropping the device back into the bag, she scoots forward on the stool, and rests her elbows on either side of his exposed penis.

This is a terrible way to wake up, isnít it? I canít imagine how scared you must be. How angry. Who am I to do this to you? Let me give you some detail. I am a friend. But obviously, not yours. Of your daughter.

Harrison begins to thrash or the best version of it he can, in his situation. His elbows bend and his hands go numb again as he pulls against the zip ties that withstand his force without issue. He tries to pull his head up but the drugs have made that impossible. Doll thinks back to a moment in time she can relate, and the urge to break his fucking face almost overcomes her.

Iíve actually misspoke, if that makes it better for you. I am not a friend of your daughter. More of a friend to your daughter. In fact, I can barely think of a time when Iíve even spoken to her. Actually I think the only real contact I’ve had with the kid is when I attacked her. Less meet cute more meet brute, yeah? Anyway, I heard through the vine that you are some kind of father. The kind that likes to…do things. Things fathers shouldnít do. I was fortunate to have a good one. Supportive. Caring. Of course, Iím talking to the very disgusting penis of a man tied to a table, so as good of a job as he did, someone else obviously undid it. Isnít that the worst? He did everything he could to show me that the world was a wonderful place, and I needed to help it stay that way, and yet, one incident reversed it all. All of the hope, the kindness, he showed me. Poof. Gone. Just like that. It makes me sad to think that way. But also, it makes me wonder. Is the reverse true?

Doll sees the man start to waver again, and picks up the injector, clicking the buttons twice this time, giving him a double dose. He thrashes again, still under the incorrect assumption that it will lead anywhere.

Stay with me, please. Iím getting to the point. Your daughter is talented. I look at her and I see the future of this business. But one canít be the future if theyíre still being held back by the past. Thatís you, Harry. Youíre the past. But together, we can help. I can see a talented young woman escape the confines of her nightmarish existence under your thumb, and you get to do the right thing for once in your miserable life. Granted not by choice, but by coercion, which is my way of saying forced. You want to ask how I can sense it. Well let me tell you. By removing your balls.
Harrison thrashes again, trying everything in his power, as limited as it is, to free himself from the confines of the table. Doll smiles, watching his grower-not-a-shower penis flap as useless as the rest of him.

…I see that upsets you. But that’s not all either. Iím also talking about the removal of your tongue. Because it wasnít just sexual abuse you handed out, was it, DADDY? It was mental. Verbal. You were a regular agony artisan. Specializing in not just oils, and abstracts but all types of inflicted suffering. While you were an amatuer, though. I am a master. Itís why I devised this plan. To show you what a true master of misery can do to someone, given the proper motivation. You did what you did because you liked preying on the weak. I do what I do, because I like making those who think theyíre strong come to terms with the truth. There is always someone stronger. And far more motivated. But let me stop with the speeches, Iím going to tell you about the removal. The first step when removing someones testicals is to-

Again, Harrison thrashes and tries to escape yet again, having not yet learned that this wasnít possible in his weakened state.

Listen. Iím going to tell you that you can fight all you want, but the drugs Iíve given you are for behavior modification, as well as…chemical castration. Itís a cocktail, pun intended, I paid good money to come up with. Most of the time itís done over time, but…Iím special. So I get to have it done in a little under 40 hours. Which is precisely how long Iíve been here.

Harrison stills. He looks about the room, trying to find a clock or something that will tell him sheís lying. But all he can see is her face, or the mask that sheís wearing over it.

You see, there are two ways to castrate someone. One is chemical. The other is surgical. Both can be tricky. With surgical it is possible that you can still get an erection…which is like hitting someone with an unloaded gun. Canít have that. With chemicals, they can wear off. Canít have that. So, like the mother fuckers from that movie, I asked myself…why not both?

Doll stood up, and walked over to the fireplace that was overflowing with empty Natty Ice beer cans. She placed a jar on the mantle, and Harrisonís eyes teared up upon the sight of his testicals floating in a red tinted liquid.

Or should I say, why not all three?

Harrison suddenly realized that the feeling in his mouth, the numbness, wasnít the reason for his inability to speak. A second jar was placed on the mantle next to the testes, and in it was a whitened sliver of meat that was obviously his tongue. He thrashed again, this time Doll began to dance to the sounds he made as they did make a certain kind of rhythm. She stood over him, and smiled. Her teeth parted ways to make way to show the tongue she still had, unlike him.

Little secret for you, Harry. The things you did, as well as the things you said, are the last time youíll ever do them. Iíve taken away your toys. Your avenues of

Donít worry, Harry. I have a deal for you. Iím going to give you a shot in a moment. Within 30 seconds, the effects of the drugs will wear off, and youíll be back to your old self. Well. Not really. But you wonít be groggy or slow. And weíre going to have a fight. See, Iíve got one coming up thatís important. Iím fighting a woman named Anicka Swan. Sheís fun. Really. She acts like this bubblehead, but in fact sheís brilliant. She looks soft and lovely but sheís a brick wall at 200 miles per hour. Not that youíre practice for her. Youíre barely practice for a staring contest. Thing is though, I know she wants this belt. Did I mention thereís a belt? I donít care for them, myself. Useless. I still need to keep it from her, though. She demands it. Not Anicka. Apathy. Apathy, who had no reason to take me in, but did. I need to make her proud. I need her to see the value in me, not just once, but always. Iím sure Anicka thinks one way or another about me. The two times weíve met, I havenít performed very well. Truth be told, I was in awe of her the first time. A woman like that, pointed at the right thing, can change the world. But she trusts the wrong kinds. And I donít mean enforcer. I mean men in general. She should have learned her lesson with that last one, but itís fine. Lessons learned late are still learned. And last week, when I didnít do anything but watch. I know itís against the crowd Iíve chosen, But I do not see the merit in triple teaming a person. You do not prove their weakness, only your own. You need 3 people to deal with one. That canít be undone. I knew Iíd get my chance to prove myself against her one on one eventually. I had no idea it would be so soon. Does that bother me? You think it does, but youíd be wrong. I am not here for friendships. I am here to do a job. And that job is more important than anything Iíve ever done prior. This fight, this bare knuckle brawl, is only as important as a rest stop is to the journey. Doesnít matter when it happens, just that it happens. But still, I feel the need to stay sharp for her. So Iím going to give you something you want, something youíre going to fight for, and Iím going to try and stop you. If you win, Iíll let you take your parts and pieces to the nearest hospital and maybe by some miracle, theyíll be able to save them. But if you fail, Iím going to give you something else to take with you. Something you wonít be able to hide behind that fucking mustache, or a pair of pants. Something fun. For me. Oh let’s just get started already.

Doll grabbed the same injector as before, but this time loaded it with a red cartridge. She stood back and grabbed both containers from the mantle. Walking over to a small table, she lifted up a sheet, and revealed a ninja food processor. As she dumped both jars into it, she made sure to step to the side so Harrison could see what was at stake. His eyes grew angrier by the second, and finally he was able to snap out of the confines, but not with severely cutting his flesh. Doll waited for him to get his feet out, and the second he did, she readied.

Harrison thought that he was going to take this woman and make her pay for what sheíd done. But Harrison fell into old habits. And when he reached his lanky arms out at her, he attempted to grab the hair on either side of Dollís head. Hair that wasnít anywhere to be found due to the latex mask. But also, it became clear why Pixie chose the haircut she did. Doll ducked under his arm and jabbed him in the chin. His bottom teeth crashed into his top and three of either or both flew out followed by a dark stream of blood that crashed against his left eye and blinded him. His right eye closed out of reflex and had it been open it wouldnít have done much in the way of help. Doll had spun around him, and with a swift kick to the back of his leg, sent him to his knees. Her hand grasped his oily hair and sent his face into the stone chimney with a thud. Blood fell from his nose, mixing with the years of nicotine that had built up in his moustache. He fell to the ground, unconscious but breathing, albeit stressfully. Doll walked over to her bag and pulled out a long stick with a sharp pointy rock embedded in the end. A second stick which was shaped like a hammer of sorts, and a bottle of black ink. She pressed the button on the ninja, watching with glee as it comes to life and turns his parts and pieces into soup. She stood over him and pondered which word she was going to slowly pierce into his skin. Pedophile? Molester? Both. Definitely both.

Driving home, Doll felt a relief in her core. She knew she would never get her hands on those who hurt her, someone had already done that for her. But at least she could do the same for someone else. Turn her hatred loose onto those who hurt others, and give them the freedom that someone gave her. That was the bargain shed made with the pain, and terror. A silent plea that was answered the same way it was offered. To the void she called that no one dared answer, she found a resolution in which she could be fully resolved. That she would serve it well, and use it as motivation to make others, more deserving others, feel it tenfold. And in turn, for a while, her craving would be satiated. But there would always be more. There would always be another. Even if she had to start getting them preemptively. And no sooner than she thought it, she found the time had come to practice it. She had pulled into a gas station called Quickcheck, and asked for the attendant to fill it up. As she sat there, a lowered and modded BMW pulled up to the service station front door, and a very muscle bound male leaped out of the passenger side and rushed inside. The small asian girl behind the counter made a face, picking up the phone behind the desk and yelling something at the male who wasnít paying her any mind. He was at the slushy station and was filling a 64 ounce cup with Blue Raspberry ice. She stayed on the phone and as the man walked up, he threw the slushy ice drink at her, hitting her in the chest despite her attempt to duck, splattering her and everything behind her. The attendant tried to stop them from leaving, but the car took off with the asshole’s legs hanging out the window. The attendant ran into the service area and tended to the girl, who was covered in blue ice and crying. Doll face sighed, and exited the van. She removed the gas nozzle from her van, replaced the fuel cap, and closed the little white door. Climbing back into the driver’s seat, she dropped it into drive, and sped off, leaving a thin layer of rubber on the cement in her wake. She used every reflex she had, and cut off every car in her path, but she caught up with the car and followed it down an off ramp. When it came to a stop, she didnít, and plowed into it. Pushing it into the street, up onto a patch of grass, and off that patch and into a ravine. The car flipped over a few times, and the rear of it smoldered from the impact. The van on the other hand was barely dented, but a bit scratched. Doll watches as one of the two men climb out of the car, their face shredded and bleeding in some areas and bruised in others. The driver, free from the wreck, rushes over to the passenger side, doing their best to pull their friend free. Doll watches as the friend struggles but ultimately freeís their friend. Her mind races back to a moment where a friend pulled her from something similar. And how thankful she was. How thankful sheíd always be. Despite how she may act today, or tomorrow. Doll reverses and pulls away, getting back on the highway and thanking them silently for the free gas, stress relief, and perspective.