Sons of Mayhem 1

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Two Days Earlier.

It was cold and dark in the silent room as the man stood over the body in silent contemplation. His eyes ran across the corpse methodically as he analyzed exactly what he'd have to do to it.

He'd never done this before and he didn't want to fuck it up. That'd be bad. Very bad. What he was about to do would have disgusted all but the most mentally sick individuals. People like him.

But if his plans were to come together, then it was something that had to be done. He rolled up his sleeves before pulling on long latex gloves and gently grasping the cool steel of a scalpel.

"Easy does it," he said softly to himself as he placed the razor sharp point of the metal tool up against the head. "Here we go."

The man began to slice into the forehead of the corpse in front of him, skillfully following the imaginary line needed to scalp the man properly. The room was silent except for his gentle breath and the almost imperceptible sound of metal cutting through cold skin and scraping the skull.

The man began to speak almost lovingly, "There's a good dead body. Now if I just cut down here like this..." He was beginning to enjoy himself.

He shivered as he worked, but it wasn’t just because of the coolness of the room. He also shuddered with pleasure; he'd never done something like this before. He'd obviously chosen the wrong profession. It was filthy work, but someone had to do it. And it'd be worth it. Oh, the payout would be huge. If everything went according to plan, that is.

Thirty minutes later he was done. He placed the scalp into a large zip lock bag. He slipped the plastic bag into a messenger bag. With one final look around to see if he'd missed anything he zipped up his hold-all and headed for the door.

The lifeless corpse stained the body-drawer red, alone and unloved as the man left. Outside a powerful motorcycle engine roared as the man flew off into the night. He had a lot of work left to do to bring their plan to fruition.