Incinerate fluid is quite effective when I burn my clothes in the age-old fireplace. There's only one reason my feet aren't burnt to a crisp, my boots are made with P4. That shit ain't cheap. They don't burn in the fire but the blood evidence on them is erased. They aren't even warm to the touch. These are the only buildings I could find with petrified wood floors. Heat seeps through tiny cracks where I haven't put the very expensive fireproof sheet metal.

Bullet holes in the belt of my extra set of fatigues remind me I'm not invulnerable. Besides wrong sized pants, my arms feel bigger in the large black tank top. This is my last OO-RAH. Maybe I should burn the place but can't bring myself to do it, not yet.

AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" echoes through my brain. I pinch my right earlobe.

"Neural net on. It's Izzy, sir. Shall I tell her you're busy." She's got a beautiful accent. Since the wars, everything is British.

"Nah. Put her through. Hey, Iz."

"Why can't I see you. Either you're in the outskirts again or you turned off your video feed."

Izzy sounds pissed, almost disturbed.

"Yeah. Just finished up some business in the outskirts. I should be back in about an hour."

"Good, because we have to talk."

"Oh ... really." There's an empty table in the back of the room.

Her hide will look gorgeous there. I've been eager to try and skin someone alive.

"Chess? Chess?"

"Neural net closed."

Sweet dreams, British lady voice.

Ass roasting wasn't part of the itinerary. Flies cover the ceiling. They press down like a blanket of silt. The place would burn if I dowsed it but it's time to gather my next ex. Sounds like she's done. Maybe this will always happen? And maybe I'll have an abundance of anniversaries to come? I leave the place intact. It's in my pseudo name, untraceable.

A quiet thump occurs behind me. My first thought is more of Evelyn's entrails or other soft tissue organs have slid to the ground. The truth confuses me. One of Brelan's eyes wobbles on the floor.

Must've bumped the table on my way out.

Got the ball rolling. I chuckle.

Her retina lays still on the dust covered wood. I check the other.

Didn't I place it looking forward? Somehow, probably with the bump of the table, a swivel took place. Now, the lonesome oculi gazes at its sister's lifeless body.

Plans have changed. I'm excited for Izzy to meet the others.

When I go to pick up Brelan's right eye, the left one on the table in front of me moves. Centimeter by centimeter the eye turns. I stumble back. The horrific gaze falls on me. My ass hits the ground with legs splayed open. The eye on the ground rolls between my legs.

Jackhammers go off in my chest. I scramble to my feet.

"You're just an eye!"

My foot flies forward. "Fuck you, Brelan." Her eye explodes into a vitreous goo.

The other is frantic. It twitches from side-to-side. I grab a small shovel next to the brick fireplace. Why waste ammo? A shockwave shoots up my arms as I repeatedly smash the orb into nonexistence.

"Guess Izzy won't have the pleasure of making your acquaintance?" I spit on the mush.

Sweat pours from my brow and my breaths come in quick, deep, gulps.

I search the room. The rest of them aren't moving. When I turn to leave, something heavy hits me in the face. Blood gushes from my nose as I stumble back, slamming my back against the table full of minced Brelan eye. I'm dazed and on my ass again. A vague picture materializes in front of me. Eden's body sways forward and back. A terrible ripping sound sends shivers up my spine. Eden lands on her feet in front of me like a gymnast's dismount from the high bar. What's left of her breasts dangle from the hooks above.

Hunched over, head dangling, she whips back. Maggots pour from her empty eye sockets. Her head tilts as if she's sizing up the competition. Chunks of rotten flesh hang from her ribs. Crinkled black hair falls over her shoulders. I'm startled by a loud snap when she breaks free of the rope around her wrists. She lunges for me. I slide under the table before she can grab me. Instead, she picks the table up and heaves it across the room. It shatters against the brick fireplace.

A quick horrific realization seizes me.

Where's my goddam ...

Excalibur's on my tool table six rows away. Each table I scurry under she tosses across the room. I hear them crash into walls. I'm almost there and ready to properly defend myself when a hand grabs my ankle.

It's not Eden.

Chelsea's left hand crawls up the back of my leg. Decayed skin peels as I try to re-move it. Beatles dive in and out of the dead flesh on the stump of her wrist. An intense sharp pain races up my leg. My ankle snaps under the pressure. Eden lifts the table we're under. I scramble closer to my weapons. The hand scampers up my back, grips my shirt collar, and bears down. Oxygen disrupted, I gag and grip the hand with both of mine. I'm strong but this inanimate thing is fierce.

The handle of my knife against my palm gives me new courage though I still can't reach my gun. I whip around. Eden is standing in front of me. Chelsea's hand tightens but her small fingers can't reach around far enough to stop the flow of blood to my brain. I catch hold of the index and middle fingers and fling the appendage across the room.

Eden launches at me. Both arms are wide as if she wants a hug. I lunge forward. The knife catches her under the jaw and easily slides through the dead flesh. There isn't much blood and the dead skin gives way. Near decapitation, she stops for a moment and grabs my arm. Her grip is too strong and my arms seethe. They're burnt from my crawl. The hilt of my knife clinks against the floor as her sharp nails penetrate my wrist. With the other hand, I strain to pry her wretched digits from my arm and kick her square in the chest. She stumbles back. Blood soaked flesh and muscle hang from my left forearm. It's not arterial and it's not my shooting hand. I can survive this.

There's a moment of freedom as she stumbles back. Excalibur feels like heaven in my hand. Pain shoots up my left leg. Chelsea's biting my calf, gnawing and chewing through the skin. Her body wriggles as she tries to tear muscle from bone. Skin breaks and blood flows down my ankle, pooling on the floor. The instant I pull the trigger, her head and body explode.

"Fuck yeah. Stay dead this time." I love my gun.

As I scrape the remnants of Chelsea off my pants, a pressure shoots through my shoulder. At a glance, I see my knife is buried to the hilt. There's no pain but my left arm and hand go numb and flop against my body. Against medical advice of any kind, I pull the knife out and toss it across the room.

Eden seizes me around the throat and squeezes. She lifts me off the ground and walks toward the table where Evelyn lies nearly split in half. My peripheral vision darkens. I've lost too much blood and can't hold onto my weapon any longer.

The whine and grind of the jigsaw wakes me. My right hand is on fire, can't feel the other. Both are nailed to the table. Eden's holding Chelsea's hand which has hold of my saw. Cries of frustration and pain in mind are lost behind the rancid rubber ball stuffed in my mouth. The dull blade rips through the flesh on my left ankle. I'm barely able to keep from passing out again. Blood-tinged mucus shoots out of my nose and coats the part of the ball that's showing. It runs down my chin onto my bare chest.

Where are my clothes?

Brelan's eyeless body holds the pole mounted with Misty's head. Misty smiles and whoops. My left foot, severed above the boot line, drops to the floor with a thud. Funny, but I think my toes are wiggling.

Evelyn stalks forward. A macabre wedding train of innards trails behind. Her blood-soaked hand is firm around the bone handle of my knife. She'll be gutting me like a wild animal any second.

It's over. Dead man walking.

Chelsea and Eden turn the jigsaw back on and grind it against my right ankle. Not much muscle and tissue before the bone. I can barely lift my head. The doors burst into tiny shards of wood and glass.

An explosion. I'm not sure if I'm excited or relieved. Soldiers would have no idea what they're seeing. Zombie eradication happened two hundred years ago. A figure walks through the splinters. Maybe it's the entire squad I drove by. The light fades around the perimeter of my vision. Can't tell who's there. One eye takes the last of my energy to open.

Is that? Not a fuck way in hell's chance. But it is. Nope. I've lost it. My chest is blanched from the loss of blood. It's a horrific thought which eerily soothes me be-cause there's no way oxygen is getting to my brain. Hallucination. That's all. Though as the form gets closer, it takes shape.

Izzy. Thank God.

Once she gets me out of this mess I'll try and explain things to her. It's harder to breathe. I need to stay awake.

Grab the gun. Pick up the fucking gun. I'm waiting for her to kick ghoul girlfriend ass. She strolls past and doesn't even look that direction. She's wearing a forest green P4 jumpsuit lined with Nicron. The sleek design looks painted on, tank top style. She's petite. Strong. Her outfit is—Militant.

You've gotta be shitting me.

Evelyn picks up the blowtorch and cauterizes my ankles. Burnt flesh wafts from the wounds. It's my last sense before the one eye closes. The ball pops out of my mouth but that's not what wakes me, it's the water Izzy pours over my head. Cool fluid runs down my face.

"Wake up asshole."

My vision's blurry. A quick smack in the jaw and I can focus again.

"I ... Iz?"

Partial girls stop moving except for one. Evelyn goes to work on my mangled left arm. This time the torch hurts like a mother. I'd grit my teeth but my jaw's dislocated. With a quick snap of my head to the left, my jaw relocates.

"We've been onto you for a while." Izzy's gentle hand rests on Evelyn's shoulder.

"You've been what?" I'm still not getting it.

"I'm an officer."

"No shit. Couldn't tell by your neon green fucktard armor." Now I'm pissed but this isn't right. Militants would arrest me on sight. There may even be a kill order.

"What is all of this?" I've got an idea.

Her eyes roll to the top of her head. "You're asking me? You're the serial killer."

"It's obvious you've done your homework, well. But what about them?" My eyes pinpoint each of the dead exes in the room.

"Casualties of your failed love life. Pathetic. Weak."

"Why aren't you arresting me or shooting me?"

"Because, bastard. This is personal."

"Pick a better cliché bitch. You've had your fun. Tortured me. Get on with it."

"Oh ... no my pet. Not yet." Her fingers trail over my torture devices and land on the shears. She removes a pair of scan glasses from her invisible side pocket and scans the metal.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Fluid rushes up my throat and I vomit. Mostly blood.

Lucky woman fast steps to the side.

"See this?" She stuffs the shears in my face. "Do you remember who's blood this is?"

I'm dozing again, hoping to die before she uses those for whatever she's gonna use them for. There's no reason I should be alive. I've no explanation other than I'm one tough sonofabitch.

She rears back and punches me in the gut. Knocks the wind out of me. Not so tough now, I guess. My tiny girlfriend is kicking my ass.

"Y ... yeah. I know every drop in this room."

"Where then? Tell me!"

I nod toward the back where there's an open door.

"What's back there?"

"Afraid I've lined it with mines or other traps?"

The shears are cold. Shit. I do have nerve endings still alive down there.

"This is a cafeteria. It's a kitchen."

Her grip tightens and the blades begin to cut. It's like an Elecrohand zapping my balls.

"Check the icebox."

"The icebox?"

"Yeah, doll. The freezer."

"Asshole. If you call me doll again. I'll cut out your tongue."

I nod and spit a wad of blood at her feet. It's about all I can do.

Zombified Evelyn stays on guard duty. Izzy takes slow steps toward the kitchen. She's scanning for traps. There aren't any.

It's gonna be epic when she opens that fridge. Almost worth the torture. Unbeknownst to either of them, my right hand is almost free. Not that I'll be able to get very far. I might be able to crawl to my gun. I'm still not able to feel my left arm.

She's inside.

Wait for it ...

Anguish bursts from her like a wounded Eagle in its last bid for freedom. After the screams, she pukes a couple of times. Still on her knees, she takes a towel from the counter, wipes her face and yells into it, "You motherfucker!"

What's left of my legs aren't tied down. Four nails chisel through tendons, flesh, and bone as my right hand comes free. Before I can tear my left hand out, I drop to the ground. Both femurs snap under the pressure. Three of my fingers thump next to me.

Evelyn stands guard but doesn't attack. It takes more strength than I could possibly have left but I stretch out with my right arm and pull toward my target. The tips of my fingers find my weapon.

A boot crushes against the back of my neck.

"Aww. Are you trying to escape?" She kicks me in the gut several times.

My ribs shatter. I'm able to sneak hold of Excalibur's handle. If this works, I'll be able to trade assassinations for new legs and arms. One shot is all I need. An invisible force takes hold of my arm and smashes it against the ground. I can't pull the trigger.

Izzy straddles me. "You know what I am, right?" The shears poke the skin under my jaw.

"Yeah. You're an officer ... damn Militant."

"You can do better than that. Do you remember who's in the freezer?"

"Who?" I laugh. "You mean ... who's parts?"

The shears head for Junior.

She wouldn't. I can't give her the satisfaction. Don't scream.

Both blades tear into my scrotum. She digs in deep and isn't using the blades.

"I've been tortured before."

Evelyn lumbers over, reaches down and takes Excalibur from my hand. My arm has deteriorated, decayed to the bone.

Izzy notices my frightened face. "Say it! Who's in the freezer!" Spittle dabbles my face.

"Found his little buddy and two meatball friends, yeah?"

A tear slips down her cheek and sizzles on the floor.

Good.

My right arm crumbles like a wilted rose.

"You ... arrogant ass. He was my brother, my life, my best friend."

Cortney had a sister? No. His brother wasn't home when I took him. The picture on his bedside table was another drag queen.

"You're his brother. But you have ..."

"Girl stuff."

"Yuh, huh." Hate it when she steals my words.

"Caught on finally, have you?"

I'm not able to shrug.

"Israel died the day you took my brother. Hard ass Officer Izzy is all that's left of my entire family. Tell me where his body is!"

She presses Excalibur firm to my temple.

"Jack shit. That's what you're getting from me. Besides, I know what you are?" My arm stops decomposing, confirming my suspicion.

"Give me the location." Iz's smile beguiles me daily but this time the corner of her mouth curls. Pure evil exudes from deep within her.

Evelyn takes me by the throat and lifts me into the air.

Izzy stares at the flies above us. They swarm and head straight for me.

They're not flies.

Nanomites enter every orifice of my body. The pain is otherworldly. I grunt as they swarm through me and begin to repair my internal injuries. She laughs, looks at Evelyn, and back at me. "Now that you know who I am, do you know what I am?"

"I've lived through worse torture than this." I'm able to grit my teeth this time.

"What makes you think you're alive?"

It's hell trying to talk with my throat being crushed. I manage to growl out, "You're a fucking Mechromancer." They'd only existed for the past three decades.

"And?" she asks.

The 'and' hits hard.

"And ... you practice transmogrification of the dead using nanomites." Via telekinetic mind link but she already knows that.

"For what reason?" Iz snatches my nail gun.

Evelyn slams me on the blood-soaked table.

"To torture them ... for information."

"Repeatedly." Izzy lowers her head, her eyes burn a deep red. "Let's see what kind of fun we can have, Chester." She pounds my new left hand into the table with the nail gun.

The screaming starts and I can't stop it. I'll never be able to.