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I felt a dull smack on my skull. Amateurs. They sapped me again when they moved me, and it only woke me up a little. When they dumped on the floor, I came to. I could hear Pris moaning nearbye. The liquid slap of her violation and the chanting of Dumas filled the chambers. I was off in a partition room. I rolled over and looked up. Blindy was standing there, his hood drawn back, .38 automatic leveled at me.

Through gritted teeth, he said "Keep Quiet, Reilly. It'll be over soon." I looked at him, and spat. Slowly, it hit me, and a grin ripped my face open like a shrapnel wound.

"Nuts. You can't shoot me. It'll screw everything." I got to my knees, my chest heaving. My head felt like it was going to explode. I looked over at my arm. He had tied a bandage onto it. I looked back at him and spat on the ground. "You kill me, you're as good dead too, aren't you?" He brought the gun up to my face. I raised one leg to a knee, shaking.

"Damn it, Reilly! I'm telling you to stay put or I'll plug you!" His left hand went to his shrapnel cut neck. My grin was wide as the horizon. I pushed myself to my feet and slammed my shoulder into the wall from wooziness. My head lolled around and I staggered. He quickly drew the sap and charged, just as I wanted him to. I dropped as he swung, twisting my legs into his. He shot forward, his arms going out to stop the fall. I scrambled to my feet just as he got to his hands and knees. He brought the .38 up and I kicked it out of his hand with my left foot, skipped a step, and slammed the toe of my right into his jaw. He fell over limply. I slipped the ropes to the front of me, listened to Pris's violation with gritted teeth, and found the trench knife in his boot.

I pulled it out, listening to her moan. I looked over. It was worse than I imagined. The thing was hideous with mottled gray skin, long bony limbs that ended with bulbous, dripping fingers, and a face that looked like someone had spread ratskin over a gasmask. Tentacles slipped from its nostrils and entered her nipples. She, however, was bucking wildly, cumming hard as its huge, knotted cock rammed in and out of her. "Its all in how you look at it, Mike." I'd heard that in a dream. This was no dream though.

I cut my wrists free of the trench knife. I remembered the story. Sometimes bullets scared them off, sometimes they didn't, he'd said. I looked down at ole' Blindy and at the knife. A wicked grin ripped my face again. "Okay, you motherfuckers. **** for ****, right? Well then, I give you to HELL!" I yelled, and slammed the trench knife into his good eye as I held his throat. He twitched and I saw his milky eye shoot open. He grabbed my wrist with a claw like hand. I twisted the spike, ripped it out, and drove it in his heart. He winced, his body contracting, and was still.

I heard it from somewhere. Perhaps down the hall, perhaps inside of me. The mad, moaning winds of madness in my brain roared into a fury. I watched as the old shrapnel wounds pulled apart. "No! What's she doing to it! She's killing us!" I heard someone up ahead yell. I left the knife in his chest and ran. I saw the gleam in front of me, and scooped up the .45, right where I dropped it.

Dumas was holding his horrid face, dripping in blood. In his right hand, he held a shotgun. Never ruin a great thing later by taking a good thing now. I let him raise it toward Pris and the monster, locked in their embrace. Gray cum oozed out her, her legs wrapped around its warped torso. Dumas's men were, literally, falling to pieces. I had broken their pact. Now, it was time to break it all the way.

"Psst." I whispered as he chambered the shell. He cocked his head to look at me, and I shot him in the sternum from behind, ripping his heart in half. He stumbled forward, using the shotgun as a crutch, dropped it, and said "Dames. They always ruin everything." He fell to one knee, then to his belly, and was still. I pitched forward into the light. The horrid thing was still deep inside of her, its monstrous cock spewing abominations into Pris as it held her tightly. Its disfigured, elongated, obscene face staring at me with black-as-8 Ball-eyes that shimmered with fury.

"Pris. Step away." I said. Its obscene beak sprouted its tentacles, now 6 feet long and covered in barbs. It stood up, impossibly tall, well over 8 feet. It was insanely fast. "No Mike, Don't!" she screamed. I lifted my rod at the same time as it swung. I felt the talons rip into my stomach as I jammed the gun in the sonovabitch's eye when it bent over, and squeezed the trigger. It reeled back. I fed two more in fast, and the last one hit granite. The only thing in front of me was a swirl of Mustard Gas.

Priscilla was sobbing on the floor. I dropped to a knee. I saw a thug in a robe come toward me. I lifted the .45 and cut him in half, never taking my eyes off of her. She was so sad. I looked at the gun, at the smoke, and thought of the dream. "Its all how you look at it." I dropped to a knee and held my stomach. The rip was big. Bige enough to die from.

"Did I mess up, Angel?" I asked the smoke. I didn't hear a reply. I watched it lazily fade away in wisps and swirls. Smoke dies in spirals.

"Yeah, Mike. I think you did." Priscilla replied, thinking I was talking to her. I grunted, and got up. I started to walk up, stumbing down the stone corridor.