Dillon placed his wife onto the white carpet decorating his living room floor. “What’s your plan?” John said inquisitively. “I need you to go into the kitchen, and right above the sink open the cabinet. There’s a vial, bring it to me. Don’t spill the fucker, and fucking don’t fucking spill a fucking drop on you. Okay?” “Got it!” John paused and then replied. “Wait... what’s in it? I’m not fixing to die if I slip on your shit ass floor and end up with some liquid on me. Right?” Dillon spoke “To be honest, it’s lysergic acid diethylamide.” “The fuck is that?” John asked, and then Dillon glared at him for a moment while John was opening the cabinet. “It’s LSD, John.” John winced at this; “The fuck you need that for? Fancy an acid trip while torturing some poor fellow downstairs are we? May the gods have mercy!” John handed the vial over to Dillon.

  “Actually.” Dillon reached in to his pocket and took out a long blue piece of metal, he placed the metal and the vial on the suspended in-table in front of them. Dillon’s living room was immaculate, covered in small but noticeable technological marvels. The living room was all white carpet (Which the color could be changed at any time), with white leather furniture and marble filigree decorating in patterns around the arm rests and the pegs. The simplistic table in the center of the room was a suspended piece of marble seemingly floating in mid-air. Actually; there was a magnet below the surface of the carpet and the table had one inside of it also, without all the science mumbo jumbo, John thought it was pretty impressive.

  Not to mention in place of the usual coasters he was so amazed by, the table simply displayed what was equivalent of a smart screen on it when you sat down your cup and you merely pressed HOT or COLD on the pop up dialogue. Keeping your drink hot or cold at any time, no ice cubes or microwaves, how convenient! Little time to think about such things now, Dillon interjected his thought process. Dillon had a pair of panties and a bra laid out on the table, and he had some peculiar looking black gloves on while he handled the vial of LSD. “What’re you doing there mate?” John asked “Based on your observations, what do you reckon I am doing?” John retorted “It appears, Sir. You’ve got bat shit crazy and are attempting to make some panties experience what would seem to be, a “Fucking” acid trip, Sir.” He gestured stupidly with his hands, making Dillon smirk.

  “Absolutely. It’s been one of my long time dreams to write down all the out of body experiences these clothing items might have while under the influence of some psychedelic chemicals.” They both laughed at this, John spoke first “No really though, w-w-what the f-f-fuck is your big idea here?” “Well, you’ll soon find out if you stick around long enough now won’t you John.” “Aggggh” he replied. There was silence while Dillon was now waving the blue piece of metal over the clothes, which the top part about the size of a pencil eraser was glowing a bright baby blue color.

  The item was misting out what John assumed to be the LSD on to the undergarments laid before them. John could only imagine what sinister plan Dillon had in mind, this was some next level revenge, he thought. Dillon finished spraying the clothing in LSD and spoke “Whatever you do, don’t touch those clothes without gloves John. It’s concentrated enough to leave you speaking to Mr. Mushrooms for about sixteen hours.” John spoke “You know, I’ve dabbled in that sort of thing. I don’t fancy taking whatever concoction you’ve got in store for whoever is putting those panties on. Damnit Dillon, if you’re idea is to have me dress up as some sort of homosexual and go down there to seduce secrets out of Mr. Villain down there, you’ve got another thing coming!” He took in a deep breath of air from his winded sentence.

  Dillon replied “Ha-ha, no John. You’re not dressing up today. I’ve got bigger plans for these. Now listen, I need you to watch my wife while I go downstairs and handle some business. Can you do that for me?” “Absolutely, throw on some tele and I’ll be just fine.” John happily replied. “Thank you, I owe you one.” Dillon said. To which he then got up, threw his gloves in the trash, dusted his black striped grey trousers off, and walked downstairs.

  Dillon walked down his solid black granite floor towards the door leading into his basement and closed his mind off to the situation at hand. Dillon was in complete control of his emotions. When he thought back to his training one of his fondest memories in the beginning was being asked the question “What is the most powerful man in the world?” and while everyone gave their stupid answers he equally thought of a stupid reply. Once the group had finished giving their answers of “Bodybuilders, Marines, etc.” The instructor stated “The answer is, a man completely in control of his emotions.” Dillon thought back, and that is what they made us.

  Completely in control, not evoked into anger or sadness, but free to control what you want to feel. He remembered wrecking his car once after he had come home for leave, and his friends stepped out of the car with him. They were all upset and frantic, and he wasn’t fazed. He simply did we he knew to do, medically assess the situation and handle the necessary phone calls. In situations later, he had once seen a comrade of his stab another of their same unit in the neck. Dillon didn’t feel anything, he was simply in control. Numb.

  That is what he was now, dealing with his wife cheating on him. He knew he wasn’t angry or sad, though his actions certainly looked like he was, Dillon was having fun. Fun wasn’t something he could necessarily control, it’s a genuine interest and enjoyment of what he was doing. In some way, this was a way to feel something out of the norm. Dillon was going to torture this man, and he had plans for his wife. He was in control of the entire situation.

  Dillon approached the room in his basement and could hear a groaning sound from the man he held captive inside. He cracked his neck and stepped into character, he was now vicious and evil. He was ruthless and numb, he could do anything to this man and feel nothing-, and it was time to have some fun. Dillon saw the man was limp against the wall.

  Held there by four restraints, one on each arm electromagnetically attaching the man’s limbs to the wall, suspended off the ground like you might see Davinchi’s Vitruvian Man. He was covered in zig zagged scars and large seeping wounds stitched together by copper wire. He could see infection on the man’s arms and abdomen, and some in his neck. Maybe staph infection was starting to take over, how exciting! The man was not aware of Dillon’s presence in the room, his body was shut down recovering from the mere hours of sleep he received for the first time today.  Dillon approached a clear table in the corner of the room and poured a clear liquid into a glass cup from a pitcher. He took a sip from the cup “Ahhh. A fine Vodka indeed.” He said out loud. Dillon then took the pitcher and softly approached the man on the wall. Dillon studying the soul before him, he took pity on the man for a moment. It was human instinct he was being punished for, he knew not the torment he would receive for his crimes. For it is a crime to knowingly sleep with another man’s wife. It is another crime to have a relationship with that man’s wife also.

  For breaking these moral codes, the man would suffer. Dillon spoke an exaggerated “Good Morning!” as he slowly poured the almost entirely full pitcher over the man’s copper wire stitched together wounds on his neck, arms, and basically his entire body at this point. “YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGH” the blood curdling scream emitting from this tortured soul was enough to raise the dead from their crypts. Huffing and panting he spat out on Dillon’s face to which Dillon laughed and continued pouring “Must sterilize the wounds, as they say.”

  He spoke with a cocky pompous voice as he watched the vodka mix with rust coming from the wire and dried blood, all mixing together and dripping an orange stream from the neck down to his toes, infection spreading from one part of the body to the next and onto the floor. Dillon was filled with excitement, he truly felt alive in this moment. The executioner took out a pair of pliers from his pocket and stepped to the left side of his victim.

  Dillon then grabbed hold of the end of the copper wire protruding from the back of his victim’s hand. It was a stretch of wire that held together a large gaping wound appeared to have been done with a thick dull blade from his hand to his shoulder. The pattern of the wound was something out of a horror film, it was clearly swollen and the wire had begun to rust together with the dried blood and puss. Dillon gave a tug “AAAAAAAA-“ and looked into the eyes of his prey, making full contact with him as he slowly pulled the wire further out of his body. With the wire out and the man still screaming, he continued pouring some of the vodka on the now open and bleeding wound and he stopped when half of the pitcher remained and took a step back to examine his work further.

  “BLOODY FUCKING –Inaudible screams-“Dillon couldn’t make out the rest of the words but he replied. “You have lasted longer than expected, but your final hour has arrived my friend.” Blood was now pouring down the left side of the naked man’s body, combining with the now slowly dripping stream of orange from the other areas of himself. Dillon walked over to a duffle bag on the floor, sat his pitcher and pliers down and pulled out a circular disk about the size of his hand. “This...” he explained “Is called Ignitocircalus” and if you vaguely understand the Latin undertone in its name it means “Fire circle”. I turn this on like so...” He held it in the air, about eye level and pushed a button on its side. –Beep- The disk ignited a fire seemingly out of thin air, and was burning a good foot flame from it.

  A blue flame, just like one produced from a blow torch. “I am going to place this under the stairs on my way out, this flame will go on indefinitely.” He paused for effect, and the unnamed figure before him continued his eye contact with Dillon. “Naturally, I assume you know this means the house will burn down on top of you and you will either die from suffocation or being crushed by the house itself.” Dillon took a breath for thought. “If you die, you will be forgiven. If you live, I will find you. With this, I bid you farewell.” Dillon exited the room and placed Ignitocircalus at the foot of the stairs as promised.

  When he got back in to the living room John had his feet kicked up on the edge of his immaculate looking couch, and he was oblivious so the fact that his feet were staining the perfect white finish on them. No matter, Dillon thought. It would all be over with soon anyways. “John!” he barked as he threw a pair of gloves onto John’s lap. “Get those clothes on her! It’s time!” John panicked at the thought and immediately started sweating as he fumbled to put the gloves on. “But Dillon! She’s your wife. I-I-I-I can’t, she’s fucking naked!” Dillon snatched the gloves from his hands and put them on “Then start the car.” Dillon stretched his fingers inside the glove. He grabbed the undergarments from the table and began dressing his wife in them.

  Stolen story; please report.

  She was so beautiful, he thought. Dillon remembered what love felt like. He decided not to think on it now, as that was a deep subject with him. In this moment, he was in control. She was dressed; he fixed the clasp on the back of her bra for the last time and hoisted her up over his shoulder. Her luscious hair caressing his back as he exited his house. “Raina, Disable all internal alarms and engage safe lock on all doors. Boot yourself to “The Hand” and await further instruction.” A celestial voice seemingly out of nowhere spoke “Acknowledged, Dillon. Stay safe.” As quickly as the voice chimed in she disappeared.

  Dillon rushed towards downtown and had dropped John off so that he wouldn’t be implicated in anything. “Stay safe John. I’ll see you again soon.” John waved “Thanks mate, good luck out there.” And Dillon sped towards his next mission. He dropped his wife off in the middle of downtown, the catch was she was dressed in the clothes he had laced with LSD. He helped her to a bench and popped a capsule in her mouth that would bring her alert in about twenty seconds, at which point she would begin suffering from massive hallucinations.

  He jumped back in the car and took off again, heading towards the outskirts of town. Dillon had made a mess of everything here and it was well deserved. He hadn’t expected what happened next though. He was being pulled over by the police. “Dillon Grey?” the officer said. “Yes sir.” Dillon replied. The officer spoke next “Sir, I need you to step out of the car.” Dillon looked amused “Under what charges am I being arrested for sir?” the officer had his hand on his gun now “Arson, Attempted murder, Criminal confinement are just the few that come to mind. Now go ahead and step out of the car sir.” Dillon looked at the officer, his pupil dilating to a size invisible to most human beings. His eye filtered out all the extra light from the sun, and he could see an HD image of his target. His God Eye was focused in on the officer’s gun.

  All Dillon needed to do was draw his firearm and his eye would do the rest of the work, pulling the trigger as soon as it was in view of the target. The accuracy had never let him down. After over 15 years of operations he was so accustomed to his optic that he could use it for more than originally intended. Dillon was a killing machine, and this officer was in danger. Fortunately for the officer, Dillon felt like coming in to the station to see what had occurred. Surely he thought, there’s no way the man he tortured for all those days had survived. He stepped out of the vehicle and followed the officer’s instructions. When they got to the station he was in handcuffs and was being lead past a room that had his good friend John Belmont in handcuffs at a table by himself.

  Dillon didn’t want that. He cared about his friend and he didn’t want anything to come back on John. He was a new father over a screaming baby and his wife would kill him if she found out he was being placed under arrest for assisting in what Dillon had just been doing. Dillon was walked down a corridor and placed into a room with three officers in front of him and the typical one way mirror behind him. The officer chained him to the table so he could not escape.

  He still had limited mobility of his arms though as the table allowed for him to move his arms around enough to pick up a cup of coffee if he was lucky enough to obtain one. “Dillon Grey. We know you. You’ve been Miranda’d and placed under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. At this time do you wish to use a layer or do you need a court appointed lawyer?” Dillon spoke quickly “I’m quite alright. I’ll comply with your questions.” The officers were standing there looking down on him menacingly with their arms crossed.

  He suspected the man talking to him could pull up some of the information that wasn’t confidential. Even with this little information the average man would be well within his rights to wasn’t to have Dillon restrained to a table for their own safety. “Do you know this man?” They showed Dillon a picture of the victim he had been torturing for the last week. “I do. How did he survive?” the police officer said next “Do you admit to attempting to murder this man and keep him confined against his will?” Dillon smiled calmly “Sir, could you tell me how he survived?”

  The officer looked at his supervisor for confirmation before speaking to Dillon. “The man you tortured was in the basement when you set it on fire. When the power went out he was released from his restraints. He went to the bathroom and used the hose to the shower nozzle as a breathing apparatus. He placed it into the toilet, past the U-Bend. There is an infinite supply of oxygen, which he used to survive on until first responders put the fire out and found him afterwards.”

  Dillon laughed uncontrollably. “That smart motherfucker.” The police officer in the back touched the table which produced a video feed showing his wife in a jail uniform wandering around a cell screaming at the walls. “And what did you do to her?” Dillon slapped the table jubilantly “Ha-Ha I have no idea what you’re talking about. Woman’s always been crazy.”

  The police officers talked, and a man Dillon knew walked in. Police Chief Kendall Roman. “Dillon, we’re going to press ten years on you, and your accomplice John Belmont.” Dillon frowned at this and spoke “Not John. He didn’t do anything. He stopped by for a coffee earlier, that’s all.” Mr. Roman shook his head. “I’ll get the prosecution I want, Mr. Grey. What I want from you is a confession.” Dillon thought about it for a moment. “Let John Belmont go.” He said confidently.

  Chief Roman replied instantly “Done.” Dillon was using his God Eye to focus on Chief Roman’s pocket, then he started talking but no one was listening. Chief Roman’s cell phone rang and he picked it up. “Yeah. He’s here under arrest.”... “No.” “He’s about to confess-““Yes sir.” He hung up the phone and ushered the rest of the men out of the door. The Chief spoke to Dillon before he left the room “There’s a Mr. Sharp on his way to see you?” and he left the room. Dillon smiled “It worked.” He thought.

  His old sergeant, Sgt. Sharp, had taken up a position high in the world government now. He had been in charge of Dillon’s success and missions from the beginning to the end. Dillon had assumed he had suffered a form of Stockholm syndrome and that he should have killed the once, then Sgt. Sharp a long time ago. He never did though, Sgt. Sharp built him into the killer he grew to be. The menace who once cared so much about people now took delight in torturing those who wronged him slightly. Dillon and Sgt. Sharp progressed through the service and into the government together until Dillon retired and Sharp took a position without a title, a very secret role in intercontinental operations involving spies and secret weapons. The conspiracy theory type situations that people thought about all the time, was the actual life that Sgt. Sharp constructed.

  He was the guy. Sgt. Sharp walked in the room a couple hours later, in a white suit and sunglasses. Smiling away. Dillon couldn’t help but smirk. “My how you’ve fallen. You’re under arrest Dillon!” he spoke freely. “I got your signal to call. How you excel at using that thing now. They are looking at giving you ten years Dillon.” He took off his shades and sat down. Dillon spoke “I know what that means.” He paused “I don’t care about dying. I’m not afraid of death. It’s life you have to be afraid of, Death means you don’t feel anything. I’ve been waiting for that all my life.” He chuckled and continued, “The government changed the rules after I got out. It’s true that they just murder you after ten years.”

  Mr. Sharp spoke next “Yeah, unfortunately that’s how it worked out. We need to work on our…criminal problem. The prisons were overcrowded. In 2035 we had about 3.5 million people in the USA and 2.6 million in Europe. When we implemented the three month program for those over 100 year sentences, we dropped about 6% off of our populations. It wasn’t enough.” Dillon nodded. “I remember seeing the riots. You dropped down to 50 plus years were converted to the death penalty. Now you’re all the way down to ten. Jesus Christ.” Mr. Sharp nodded “And now we’ve shut down over 60% of prisons. Our population is low, the crime rates have lowered.

  People are scared of the legal system now. Except you. What the fuck are you doing in here? Terrorizing civilians?” Dillon laughed “He fucked my wife.” He laughed again “No one fucks my wife. No one fucks me.” Mr. Sharp laughed “They’re about to. They’ve got you and John Belmont lined up for the death penalty” Dillon frowned “He’s a good man. Not like me. So what do you want this time?” Mr. Sharp scooted his chair forward. “I don’t want anything from you. You called me.” Dillon said “Ah.” He paused “I suppose I want you to free John Belmont.” Sgt. Sharp spoke “We have to maintain fairness and consistency. They can’t see me doing you special favors and you him stay in the area. It is not right to undermine the law.

  Remember?” Dillon said next, motioning with his hands “Free John Belmont.” Mr. Sharp was thinking, moving his index finger on his lip “We have some new developments. I have something you can do for me.” Dillon nodded “I’m in. I need to be able to save one friends life this year.” Mr. Sharp spoke “You’re not going to like this one. I’m warning you.” Dillon didn’t care to be honest. He didn’t even care about his best friend Mr. John Belmont. Dillon just knew that he should care, and a normal person would care.

  This is what motivated his actions to free his friend. He was numb to death and friends being murdered, it was just another brick in the wall to him. But he would do this thing for John. He was being reckless in Old London and could use a mission. Even though he was in retirement, it didn't suit him at the moment. “You know, this is a cliché sort of situation Sharp.” Mr. Sharp looked at him inquisitively “How so?” Dillon smirked in reply “The “Secret agent” gets a free pass out of jail.” Mr. Sharp laughed “The government shapes the course of history with their decisions. You play a bigger role in this country than hundreds of these civilians combined.”

  Dillon said next “I suppose that could be correct.” Mr. Sharp replied “We’ve spent heinous amounts on you Dillon. Training, equipment, your optic. You’re worth more than these civilians. These cops. We can spare a favor or two for that.” Dillon remarked smugly “That’s fucked up Sharp.” And he replied “So let’s get you out of here.” Mr. Sharp motioned with his hand and Chief Roman entered, taking the restraints off Dillon. Mr. Sharp said “He’ll be coming with me. The Government will handle this.” Chief Roman said “One last question if I may.” Dillon replied while his right hand came free “Sure.” The chief continued “What the fuck is wrong with your wife?” he paused “We went to release her, she started acting normal again and wasn’t intoxicated from alcohol or other normal substances. As soon as she got out the front door she started taking off her clothes and trying to fit herself inside of a portashitter with someone inside!” Dillon laughed at this.

  “Take her inside and don’t let her have her civilian clothes back. She’ll be fine after that and about 12 hours. Ha-ha.” They began their walk out and he saw John Belmont leaving also. One of the police officers he had been in the room with earlier was trying to restrain his wife outside of the police station and they ended up on the ground in the ensuing struggle. The Officer stood up and started screaming, he began taking off his clothes and was jumping around like a jack rabbit. Dillon looked back at the police station and said “You might want to wear gloves dealing with this one! Ha-Ha-Ha!” and they left for the citadel.