It started as a numb, dull ache. Little more than an annoyance. A constant aching like when you sleep on your arm for too long and move off of it. Known thought he might have fallen asleep on his piece again. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes, after a long day of Kalapu business, remembering to pull the pound and a half of destructive force out of his pocket was an afterthought. He never was one to be too overly worried about safety.

The ache grew, from lazy throb to searing pain. It ran along his gut. This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t how it felt when he would sleep wrong.

He tried to move, tried to will the grogginess away. A yawn formed at the back of his throat, tickling the little dangly bits. What was it called? Tonsils? Whatever it was called, the dangly thing was now twitching with the need to yawn and sneeze.

The tickle ran up into his large nostrils as they flared. It was coming and he would be all the better for it if he could get both instances of annoyance out of the way. Everything tightened in anticipation of the imminent release.

“Ah,” he murmured as nothing came. No sneeze, no yawn, both were trapped and waiting their turn as his body refused to heed its own call.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a jaunty older man’s voice said. The sound of slippers shuffling through soft carpet filled his ears, barely drowning out the roar of the sneeze and yawn that were waiting to be let out. “Good, good. Then it is time to get to work.”

Two sharp snaps rang out. “I hope you aren’t allergic to latex. It’s all I have right now. Ran out of my fancier gloves not too long ago. Not that your allergies are of any concern to me.”

Known’s eyes darted about. He wanted to open them and take a good look at whoever the speaker was. His groggy mind was refusing to make any of the proper connections. Why the hell was he thinking about his first mark?

“You must be having a hard time opening your eyes. Here, let me help.”

Cold fingers pinched his eyelid then a sharp shock of pain rippled through his body. He let out a muffled groan, unable to open his mouth as light flooded one side of his vision. After a second, his other eyelid was pinched. Then the sharp pain again. Every synapse in his body fired but he still couldn’t be sure as to what was going on.

“Hooks,” the voice said as a chubby face hovered over him. Tears made his vision swim. “In case you’re wondering what that was. Hooks are holding your eyelids open because I prefer a rapt, engaged audience when I’m working.”

Known rolled his eyes around and could feel cold metal sitting in one spot. The tears quickly dried up as he strained his eyes in all directions.

“Do be careful, I don’t want you popping any vessels in your eyes or anything.” The chubby man’s voice carried from somewhere to his right. “I don’t get paid as much for sullied materials. I would do all this after you’ve expired but my current employer paid extra to have tonight’s proceedings taped. They also wanted you alive and aware. So, that’s that.”

“Mmgh,” he muttered, trying to push words out. His tongue flopped around in his mouth, lethargic and heavy. Something held his jaw in place.

“Shh, don’t try to talk, it’s useless,” the man said. The sound of metal objects clinking as they were picked up reached him.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?” he thought to himself.

Red, hot pain fired off as something sharp sunk into his thigh. He wanted to scream and holler, to shake and shiver. But nothing happened, his body laid perfectly still.

The fat face hovered back into view. “Just making sure you’re still with me. Hope it didn’t hurt too much. That’ll kick in soon enough. Lucky you, won’t feel a thing down there. But you will feel the rest.”

The jowly man smiled, thick cheeks pressing his small eyes closed. “We’re going to have some bloody good fun, you and I. So bear with me. You’re probably wondering what the hell is going on. So I’ll give you a hint. Someone doesn’t like your group so they bought my contract out. By a hefty sum, if I may add.”

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The man straightened out with a huff and walked away, continuing to chatter over his shoulder towards Known.

“How they knew some of you would end up on my table is anyone’s guess. But they knew and my orders are simple. Kill and maim any members of the Kalapu who come through my door.”

Known heard a cork pop, possibly out of a champagne bottle, then the clinking of glass on glass.

“You see,” the man said, smacking his lips as he sighed. He really did seem to enjoy his own voice. “It’s all a matter of money with me. I did excellent work for the Kalapu because they paid well. And now, I will do excellent work for my new employer because they have shown me how deep their pockets are.”

The man tittered as his big face floated back into view. “I’m the one your friends like to call The Doc.”

Horror curdled in Knowns gut as his slow-moving brain finally made the connections. He’d been shot, grazed by a shot, and left with a puckering wound across his gut. They had come to have him patched up. Moan had brought him. Wait, where was Moan?

“Ah, I can see it in your eyes. Don’t worry about your friend. He’s here as well. Definitely in better condition than you. First, we’ll start with this.”

Known felt a heat nearing his gut, tender as it was. For some reason, he felt as if time had slowed as he anticipated what the deranged Doc could be up to. If he were able to, he would have braced his body. Unfortunately, whatever drug the man had used on him was potent and would not be wearing off any time soon.

The smell of crisping bacon hit his nostrils a second before the heat registered. He squirmed as something metallic pinged. His gut, previously tight and corded, loosened. Known worried that he had let himself go but he could not feel the telltale leaking of a bowel movement.

Metallic pings continued as the Doc spoke up. “Such a waste, I did such beautiful work only to turn around and sully it.”

The big man shuffled about, instruments clanging as he rummaged through them, muttering under his breath about one thing or the other. Sweat dripped off of Known’s brown despite how cold he felt. He tried to flex his fingers but he could not feel them. It felt as if his hands were completely missing.

The heat returned with a click. Everything felt far-off, foreign, disconnected. Known wanted to squirm on instinct, something told him the heat actually hurt.

“You probably aren’t feeling too much right now. But that’ll change in a bit. Give it a second.”

It took a few seconds before everything came crashing down. A low throbbing emanated from his wrists. The heat flared and exploded as rivulets of sweat dripped down his face. His stomach twisted in pain.

Known screamed.

At least, he tried to. Nothing more than a muffled keening came from his throat. He wanted to kick out, lash at the fat man who held him hostage. All that happened was the uncomfortably foreign tightening of his muscles.

“Awww,” the Doc cooed. “Look at the little piggies try to wriggle. Lotsa pain, ain’t it? And you can’t even let any of it out. Just gotta endure and endure while I work on you.”

Light bounced off the thin edge of a scalpel as the pudgy man twirled the tool within Knowns line of sight. The Doc shook something in his other hand before setting the thing down.

“It’s getting kinda boring, I usually don’t talk to myself during a job. All this one-sided dialogue is making my throat parched. So, I’ll be doing this.”

A piano began playing in the background.

“New speakers,” the Doc said, raising his voice as he adjusted the volume on the sound system. “Just had ‘em installed a few days ago. Cliche for a doctor to listen to classical stuff, but I actually enjoy it. I couldn’t tell you who the hell this was by but it sounds damned good.”

“You’re talking more than before,” Known thought between pulses of dull pain.

Without warning the scalpel descended and paused just above the tip of his nose.

“Look at me. You’re probably thinking about how my fat ass is busy talking even more than before,” the Doc said, face drawing near enough to Knowns for the young man to smell the rotten stench of wine on the big man’s breath. “I guess I’m what some would call a meandering hypocrite. I dawdle. I mean, I get to. I’ve already been paid for this job. So why not take my sweet time doing it.”

Known wanted to spit in the older man’s face. If not for the closeness then for the fetid stench of cigarettes and wine wafting off of his mildewed breath.

“First on the agenda,” the Doc said, drawing his face back as a large smile crossed his thin lips. “Let’s get a closer look at those peepers, shall we?”

Cold clamps latched on to Knowns eyelids and pulled them apart, holding his eyes wide open. Fear bloomed in his stomach as the hot sweat mixed with cold apprehension.

The lights in the house flickered as the scalpel descended once more.