Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 115: What Hurts More?

Chapter 115: What Hurts More?

Step by step, Dante descended into the basement of the Dragon’s Lair.

Each step was carefully measured as he made sure to breathe. It was a test to himself, building the basement like he had. He knew that it would bring about memories best forgotten, but at the same time, he refused to let something so... minute... get the better of him.

He was the master of his domain, and nothing, not some bitch or some betrayer, change that.

Nodding to the guard that stood beside the heavy metal door, he waited patiently for the man to open it. Usually, he didn’t bother with a guard here. After all, the basement rarely had visitors, but right at the moment, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Besides, the guard was as much for keeping the two prisoners inside from escaping as he was for keeping Tank from killing them.

Letting the door slam shut behind him, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Who is there?" demanded Brittney, her voice coming out strong—much stronger than her circumstances warranted. Maybe Tank wasn’t too far off when he said that there were more traitors working with the cunt.

Remaining silent, Dante picked up the same wooden chair from his dreams and brought it in front of the two chained prisoners.

"Dante," murmured Brittney. "Have you come to save me? You know that I would never go against you... that I would never do anything to harm you."

Dante chuckled at her words. Clearly, the room that meant so much to him wasn’t worthy of her remembering, or else she would have realized that he remembered his past life.

"Where is Hattie?" he asked, finally breaking his silence. He turned to Antoine to ask the question, knowing that snapping at Antoine would piss off the other man. The fact that it would also piss off Brittney because he was ignoring her was just an added bonus.

"I don’t know," smirked Antoine, his eyes shining in delight. "Did you lose the freak?"

"Hmmm," Dante hummed, crossing his legs in front of him as he stared at the man he had once considered to be the closest person in the world to him. He never understood when or why Antoine had turned his back on him, but it no longer mattered.

He was no longer haunted by that question, thanks to a particular blue-haired freak.

Once again, the heavy metal door squeaked open before slamming shut again.

"You’re late," chuckled Dante, looking over his shoulder as Tank walked toward the center of the room.

"Seeing I didn’t even know we were meeting here, I would think I was on time," replied Tank. Before Hattie, he would have had an amused look on his face as Dante teased him, but now, his face was as blank as a marble statue.

Dante chuckled again but dropped the subject. They both knew that Tank was going to sneak in to get some questions answered. It just so happened that Dante had beaten him there.

"I asked them where Hattie was," sighed Dante, waving his hands toward the two prisoners.

Unlike when he had been at their mercy, Antoine and Brittney were overly uncomfortable. Their hands were cuffed together, and then a chain was attached to the middle of the cuffs. The chain was then extended from the ceiling, causing their arms to be pulled above their heads.

They could still have their feet planted firmly on the ground, and there was enough slack in the chain that their shoulders weren’t under any stress.

See? Perfectly human treatment for people who deserved to be buried up to their necks in the bayou and left to feed whatever animals happened to come along. Then again, there was plenty of time left for that treat.

"Do they know?" asked Tank, putting on a pair of soft leather gloves.

Torture and information extraction weren’t normally part of his skill set, but since he killed Dante’s last interrogator, he was going to have to learn.

He remembered asking Hound why he wore gloves, and the man had answered that not only did it stop his DNA from being transferred to the victim, but it also helped his hands from splitting.

From then on, Tank had always gone off to war with a pair of gloves in his back pocket.

"They don’t," sighed Dante. "I guess we’ll just have to let them go."

Now it was Tank’s turn to hum. "That’s too bad. I was hoping to get more familiar with my second favorite knife."

"Second favorite? What happened to your favorite?" asked Dante, looking over at Tank. This was the first time he had ever heard of Tank not having his favorite knife. It was practically glued to his hand at all times.

"I traded it for electricity," shrugged Tank before his face lit up. "Right! We have electricity! This is great. I really wanted to see how many currents a human body could take before it lit up like a lightbulb."

Going behind where Brittney and Antoine were hanging around, Tank brought out an electrical cord with one end cut off, exposing the two wires. "You’ll have to forgive me," sighed Tank, a putout expression on his face for a moment. "This isn’t my usual job, so it might take me some tries to get this right. I hope you don’t mind."

Without further warning, he stuck the two wires into Antoine’s side, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for Antoine to start screaming.

Only nothing happened.

"Shoot," sighed Tank, lightly slapping his forehead in frustration. "I forgot to plug the other end in. Just give me a minute, won’t you?"

Disappearing into the shadows, Tank came out a minute later. "There, let’s try this again."

This time, when Tank lightly rested the two wires against Antoine’s side, the sound of the man screaming echoed through the room.

"Fuck!" grunted Antoine. "I really don’t know where that freak is!"

"Oh," nodded Tank. "I knew that already. This is all just for fun. Now, what hurts more... when I press the wires here or when I press them against your balls?"