#59 Stick This

Gloved hands worked feverishly at pulley systems at each corner of the dark room. The last screw was screwed into the floor mounted pulley. The gloved hand squirted a little grease on the pulley. It worked its way to all the pulleys. The black boots climbed a small later to reach the pulleys mounted on the ceiling. The gloves went to the center of the room where the naked man was shackled. The shackles were checked. They were tight. The gloves moved to a vanishan blind and twisted them open to let in a little light. The blue light hit the ground.

"Sorry, buddy. I intended to do this in the dark. It was part of the symbolism I was going for, but after getting those pulleys set up my eyes are strained," the man was covered in black except for his lightly bearded face. He had a tan and was very handsome looking; the naked man on the floor only saw terror.

The naked man's red eyes adjusted to the light and he saw that he was shackled to a system of wires. The wires went up from the straps on his ankles and wrist to the ceiling. Directly above him were four pulleys, one for each ligament. The pulleys guided the wires to the corners of the ceiling, where there were more pulleys that guild the wire to the ground. The grounded pulleys had small clamps in them to prevent the wire from going any further. The wire ends had black metal handles.

"Oh my God! You don't have to do this! Please let me go," the naked man struggled. The wires were fairly loose but he couldn't move enough to get his hands to meet or reach one of his legs. He flailed in pathetic attempt. "I will pay you whatever you want. I have money. Lots of money. Whatever you want it's yours. Just let me go."

"A-a-a-and there it is. I was waiting for that, buddy. I guess you could say it was my signal to start," The black clad man paced the room checking the pulleys. "I know you have lots of money. I did after all break into your office building, drug your coffee, and then waited for everyone to leave for the night. I know all about you Victor Fig, and that is why I will be killing you tonight."

"Oh no, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes, you see I know about the money you've been taking from your employee's accounts. I know about the second account book. I know about your plans to take it all and run, or file for bankruptcy, did you ever decide on that last bit? Eh, doesn't matter." The darkly clad man reached for a pulley and unclamped the stopper. "You would have gotten away with it too, if not for ME-E-E-E-E!" He pulled hard and Fig went flying up to the ceiling.

The dark man ran to every one of the other pulley and pulled the exact same amount of wire. Once he had the desired level, he clamped the stopper back down. In the end Victor Fig was spread on the ceiling, each limb pointing in one corner. His face was an inch from the ceiling.

"You're right. I was going to take the money. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I know it was wrong. I'll give it all back. I'll give it all back, just pahuullleeasse let me down!"

"Really?"

Fig stopped crying, "Yes, yes, I'll give it back."

"You'll give all the money back if I let you down?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"What are the account numbers?"

"What?"

"The account numbers? I'll take all your money and distribute it amongst the employee's you've stolen from."

"Hey now wait a minute. Not all of that money I stole. Now you're trying to rob me. I wont stand for that you little prick!"

"Vicky buddy, you ain't standing period right now."

"Fuck you, you can't have my money. Not the money I worked for!"

"Oh buddy, you just said the wrong thing," the darkly clad man quickly pulled out a knife and stuck it an inch into Fig's back. Fig whaled and flailed and cried out. He screamed for help as his blood trickled down into a well placed waste basket. "Do you get it now, Vic? You're in the dark, well sorta, just like how you kept all your employee's in the dark. You've been stuck and are now being bleed dry, just like you bleed them dry. You're wound tight and well I guess I could argue that that's how your former employees would feel when they learned of their empty accounts but that's pushing it a bit. You get the idea. I'm Sticker. No, they don't call me Sticker because I stick people with knives. Though I do, as you know. I'm Sticker because I stick people with what's coming to them. I've always had this intense sense of irony. Anyway, enough about me, the account numbers, NOW!" Sticker sticks the knife in the same spot but a little deeper. More blood comes pouring out.

The whaling and flailing slowed to a stop and Victor Fig gave Sticker the account numbers.

"Thanks," said Sticker, and then quickly stabbed Fig even deeper in the same spot.

The next day Fig's secretary walked in on an over flowing waste basket of blood and her boss, cold and stiff, wired to the ceiling.