“If you keep polishing it, deary, then it might eventually break,” Atlas whispered right into your ear with a sly smile on his lips before stepping away and going back to the table with the rest of torture devices. You watched the sinister excitement spreading over his features as he was choosing the right tool for the rat tied to a chair. He picked up the icepick and looked at it closely. Stainless, clean and shiny. No matter the purpose, the tools must have always been pristine.
“Now, you’ve been a sport but I’m afraid I ain’t that kind,” you watched as his body leaned over the poor man who was panting and desperately trying to break the ropes bounding his arms and legs.
Sure, you could have just shot the idiot who had decided to betray Atlas but where’s the fun in that? You sighed thinking about the missed possibility to use the new gun that Atlas had gifted you after your last one was beyond fixing. You chuckled at the thought of using this one just as much.
“Someone keep this bastard still, I can’t focus,” he complained and the two of his henchmen appeared by the traitor’s side to make sure the primitive procedure will bring as much joy as possible to their boss. “Frankly, I don’t like getting my hands dirty,” he tilted his hand with the same mischevious smile you loved so much. “But I’m going to make this one exception for you.”
Bullshit, everyone and their damn mother knew who much pride he was taking in being feared and avoided at all costs. He wasn’t especially tall or muscular but he was able to make people believe his words, threats included and that made his followers so devoted. That, money he promised and of course tortures that would take place if they decided to switch sides. Yes, Atlas is going to enjoy this one.
When the icepick found its way into man’s skull you didn’t even flinch. The screams and muffled please were irritating at best. You shoved your gun into the holder and glued your eyes to Atlas’ back, watching as his muscles worked under his tight white shirt. You should tell him to roll up the sleeves like that more often.
“You’re a tough one, aren’t you? Or maybe I’m getting too good at this?” Atlas exclaimed after a few minutes of blindly stabbing the man. “Love? Will you finish it up for me?”
Finally, you thought and with a wide smile you reloaded your gun a came closer to watch your new toy at work. Just then, the man decided to spat out blood, staining your shirt. He was long dead before the scarlet flower stopped blooming on your stomach.
“Disgusting bastard, I need to think of a new way to hire those monkeys.”
“You’re right. But for now, we should have a few minutes to breathe. No one is stupid enough to follow him into that chair,” you gestured to the limp body. Two men were already fighting with the restrains to get him away from Atlas and you.
“And now I have to find another clean shirt for you,” he pointed to the bright red contrasting with the white of the fabric.
“I love that colour. It reminds me of you,” you teased before your fingers started unbuttoning it all the way down. You felt Atlas’ gaze observing the subtle movement.
“Or maybe I should just leave you like that for now,” he smiled before pulling you in for a deep kiss.