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A Hand Into Hell

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Christie always had a thing for causing pain and death wherever she walked. She never realized it as a child, but when she matured and decided her career path as an assassin, she knew she had found her calling from the very first kill. Sniper rifles, sharp knives, the odd garrote wire, sometimes even just a simply point-blank revolver to the skull – kills came smoothly, and she was well-crafted in assassination tactics.

Not often, however, was she tasked with kidnapping someone with the intention of keeping them alive – and when she was allowed to do whatever with the victim aside from outright cutting their life short, her mind often ran free with ideas.

The most recent case was quite the interesting catch – a young schoolgirl named Honoka, with a mysterious power that MIST believed connected her with the destructive force of Raidou. The mission was simply to take her in and siphon the energy out of her any way they could to complete their next big project of reassembling and reviving the nukenin for their own nefarious purposes.

The capture was surprisingly easy – it was all a matter of simply swiping her when she least expected it and taking a helicopter to the base. What to do with her in the meantime while they prepared for extraction was much more difficult – not necessarily in terms of keeping the poor girl there, but more the decision: in what way was Christie going to make that girl suffer?


Even on the other side of the door, Honoka's fearful weeping was audible from within the cell she was kept in. To the she-devil in Christie, it was music to her ears.

The schoolgirl had been kept in captivity for at least a couple hours by now, and the white-haired sadist had already spent some time having her way with that girl's delicate body, if the bruises, cuts and ruffled hair implied anything – partially, it was a result of Honoka's attempted escape the first go around, as the rope that bound her hands simply snapped under the pressure of her strange strength.

Re-entering the schoolgirl into her captive state, Christie decided on putting Honoka into further bondage, in an cruddy, splintery wooden chair that was accessorized by the strong cables forcing the girl in place by her forearms. To be 'better safe than sorry' – or in more fitting terms, for the hell of it – Christie had driven a few nails through the skin of the girl's forearms, keeping her pinned to the chair with any struggle risking further horrible harm that would be Honoka's fault and her fault alone. She was the canvas to Christie's sickening art piece, and the assassin wouldn't have had it any other way.

Returning to the uncomfortably harsh environment of Honoka's 'accommodations' for the third time since the capture, Christie took a sweet moment to re-examine the battle damage the schoolgirl had taken thus far, from the hair of her ponytail having been torn off to the stains of blood stemming from the nails forcing her arms in place. She chuckled to herself at the expense of the tortured, miserable soul in the chair.

"Every time I look at you... it just makes me smile, seeing you so helpless." The British psychopath spoke with a cold but tempting tone that would make the average man swoon for her. So calm for the scene before her.

Honoka didn't say a word in response – probably too feeble at the moment, from the blood she lost to the arms of the wooden furniture that were soaked in the red. She just kept her head hanging down towards the ground, barely audible in her continued cries.

"Chin up, sweetie." Bringing a hand lightly grazing upside the schoolgirl's chin, Christie raised the head of her delicate victim. "We don't intend to keep you around for too long – but yet, I just couldn't help but take my time with you, especially after you put up such a struggle earlier."

The assassin looked deeply into the Japanese girl's tear-soaked eyes, wiping the waterworks away with a grazing thumb. It was a helpful bonus to the torture the schoolgirl took, but it was maybe a little too melodramatic. "Such a child – so incapable of accepting your reality, your vulnerability. You're lucky I've now figured out what to do with you..."

Christie left the holding cell for a moment to gather the tools necessary for her planned methods, leaving Honoka to imagine for a moment the potential terrors she'd have to endure. When the assassin returned, she carried several new things on her person, from the knife in one hand, the blowtorch keeping the blade heated a deep red on the other, and the roll of tape hanging around her torch-wielding arm. Honoka's eyes widened by a slight margin when she noticed all these things combined, as she had a feeling at least two of them were going to come into contact with her body in some way.

Christie soon started, "You've seen those viral videos, right? About the red-hot knives cutting through anything and everything? It had me thinking..." She sat the torch down on the ground next to the chair and slid the tape roll down her arm and into her free hand. "But first..." Tearing a strip of the duct-tape from the roll, she brought it around the mouth of Honoka, further silencing her worries to mere muffles. "Wouldn't want those screams to be too loud, now would we?"

Honoka immediately started to object with muted complaints as the scorching-hot knife hovered about in Christie's hand, pointed straight at the schoolgirl with a toyful intent.

Explaining herself, Christie let the knife wander closer to Honoka's gloved hand. "I don't often deal with... body parts, but when it comes to something like this... there's something of yours we're going to need..."

Christie's tongue felt at the root of her mouth as she savored the moment for a little while longer... she pulled lightly on the right sleeve of Honoka's uniform, exposing her wrist beyond the nailed-down part of her forearm – better to go straight for the skin than have to cut through additional layers, after all. The knife lingered close enough to just barely touch the skin on Honoka's wrist above the purple glove, enacting a muffled yelp out of her as the hot blade grazed her and left a light burn. This more than indicated enough of the effectiveness of the weapon, and was ready to take the schoolgirl under the knife.

The knife pressed in again, slightly deeper now as it sizzled just a little bit louder than before. This coincided with Honoka's gradual pain in her silenced screams, and she continued to fuss about when the knife again retreated from contact. The light line indicating the initial burn was replaced with an opening wound that was outlined by scorched flesh and a slight ooze of blood surfacing through from the center of it.

Each and every time the wound was worsened, Christie felt more of a terrific thrill out of the slow, incremental damage – almost something to pleasure herself to.

The third time around, Christie didn't have a stopping point to her knife's burrow into her plaything's wrist, and it went much deeper than Honoka could probably take, as the screams that were never escaping through the tape on her mouth seemed more throat-wrecking than before. The slicing, the tearing of something being separated from her body caused her to be a more spastic mess of a being than before as her fingers extended in utter agony. Soon enough, those fingers began to lose all feeling and intact nerves as the knife sawed further through her, and the cursed hand grew completely motionless once she felt the knife press through the bone and melt it into halves.

As soon as Honoka's hand was disconnected from the rest of her body, so was her mind as her screams dispersed. Her head again hung low as she hid her face away from Christie, who was busy herself looking at the result of her work.

As the knife slid away from its target, the motionless hand was lined away with a gate of blood pouring around, dripping down slowly from the right arm-rest of the wooden chair. Surprisingly less blood than you'd expect from something so essential being sliced away, but given the heat gathered into the knife, it wouldn't be that surprising if it partially cauterized the wound.

Continuing the thorough examination, Christie started to hold onto the fingers of the dismembered hand, before slowly pulling back to unveil the complete partition of it from its owner's arm. Strings of veins remained the only thing that just barely connected before snapping away as the lacerated sinew, skin and bone showed themselves in the amputated remains of the wrist, collectively discolored by the burning slice.

Holding the disjointed hand in her own and basking in the demonic aura that fizzled helplessly in trying to adapt to its new condition, Christie only had one word to describe the work done: perfection.

The sadist ripped away the tape from around Honoka's mouth as she examined the young girl's face. Honoka's tears remained with only audible shudders, combined with sniveling mucus down her nostrils as her emotional condition reached a deeper pit of despair than ever before.

"I'm sure MIST will enjoy this thoughtful donation for your time..." Trying to seem at least slightly 'sincere' for the schoolgirl, Christie rightfully succeeded in seeming even more of sinister being as she 'assured' the girl. "Sit pretty, now – we'll be back for the rest of you if needed."

Having left the captive less of a girl than she was before, Christie's job was done, and she shut the door to the cell to leave the fresh amputee to her lonesome.

Wouldn't be hard to imagine all the things going through Honoka's head – mainly the horrible pain in her wrist, due to the hand that no longer was there, and the sight of her own blood and gore before her.

Christie didn't give a damn, though – she was in on MIST's treacherous plans for the long run, and no matter what, she'd get her way against the world that feared her craft.