Villainous

Ch. 1

I never claimed to be a good man. Anyone who does is a liar. A bad man I may be, but a liar I am not. A thief, a sadist, a cannibal, a serial killer. People have called me all of these things. I'm dishonest, but I am in no way a liar.
Just ask Tristan Wells. He knows me better than anyone else. Now, now, don't get your hopes up, he still knows very little. Much to his resentment, his years of research, tracking, and hunting me down has yet to wield any fruits of success.
One man however, did manage to find me. Or more accurately, I found him. All he had to do was turn around in a dark alley and bam! Just like that, there I was. Now here he was. Strapped to a cold metal table, gagged by a bloody sock.
I leaned over and examined my reflection in the clean silver. My piercing blue eyes seemed to blend in with the grey steel. My black hair however, did not.
I smirked as soon as his muffled whimper hit my ears. "I'm sorry, what was that? You'll have to speak up." He whimpered again, and tears began to spill down his apricot colored cheeks. A deep crimson line ran across his belly, slowly forming a puddle under him.
I walked to a chain in the corner that led to the ceiling. "Tell me, have you ever basted a turkey?" I started to tug on the chain, which ran across the ceiling and led to the man's feet, which were bound by the very same chain. As I pulled harder, he began to rise.
"You've never basted a turkey? Well it works like this." I said while continuing to lift him, "As the turkey cooks, it produces juices and whatnot. Basting is when you soak the turkey in its own fluids." When he was suspended in the air, I locked the chain, then strolled over to him.
"It's supposed to make it taste better." I licked my lips slowly, staring at him. The look in his eyes acknowledged me that he was panicking, and the urine running down his body indicated it further. The golden fluid streamed down to his neck and curled around his head, dripping onto the steel table. I backed away a few steps and crossed my arms behind my back, "Now I'm not going to eat you. So don't worry about that. But I am going to baste you. I'm going to let you sit in the fluids that your body produces until you... Well you can figure it out."
He began to wail, which was muffled by the sock. I reached up and pulled the gag from his mouth. "Why are you doing this?" He begged,
"Because I have no cable." I said before walking away.
"Please! I have a family!"
"Where are they?"
"They're at home..."
"How would you like me to go find them and bring them here so they can watch you?"
"NO, PLEASE!"
"That's what I thought."
I leaned over and picked his jacket off of the floor, "Let's see what you have here." I reached inside and pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. "A smoker? Bleh. I absolutely loathe smoked meat." I fished further in the pockets and pulled out a lighter, "I could have fun with this."
I dropped the jacket and walked to the man with the lighter, "Build a man a fire, and he'll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he'll be warm for the rest of his life. Terry Pratchett." I laughed sadistically, and the man began to cry again. What a joke. "I'm guessing you'd rather not be warm at the moment." A grin spread across my cheeks as an idea grew in my mind like a child in a womb.
"Tell you what. I'll give you a choice. You can burn... Or freeze. I'll give you 10 seconds to choose, or I'll choose for you."
One may ask why I do the things I do, and the answers differ from person to person, but the simple truth is this. I do what I do, because it is my destiny. I am meant to be the antagonist of someone else's story. Specifically that of detective Wells.
"Times up." I said as the 10 second mark passed, "Lucky for you, I've made up my mind." I spun on my heels and walked into the shadows.
I returned holding a gallon of kerosene, "I was going to use this to dispose of you, but I suppose I'll have fun with it."
"Please God..."
"No no. He's not here. It's only you... And me." I began to douse him in the flammable liquid, humming as I did so.
Light blue fluid dripped off of his hair, splashing onto the table. "Please sir... I-I can give you money!" He cried, making a pitiful attempt to save his own life. I wrapped cloth around a yardstick and lit it on fire, "Do I look like I want money?" I then leaned forward and tapped the stick to his thigh.
The flame instantaneously spread across his body, and crackled as the man screamed. I sat down in a lawn chair and watched, patiently waiting for the man to become silent.