The double agent stirred, waking up from his involuntary nap. Numerous blurry figures plagued his returning vision. He blinked, trying to overcome his pounding headache, and a couple of seconds later, came to. He suddenly gasped in fear, seeing the hundreds of henchmen surrounding him, staring at him like hungry vultures. They all sat in seats, waiting for the show to commence. Artificis sat in a front row seat, Ellis by his side. It was then that the double agent noticed that he was strapped into a metal armchair. Dried bloodstains decorated the floor. The chair itself sat on a large, dark, dried puddle of blood. There was a long and dark streak of blood where the previous victim had been dragged away. Suddenly, there were some slow, echoing footsteps. The inquisitor came out from the shadows and looked at Artificis and then to the rest of the bloodthirsty henchmen.
“Welcome all!” He announced, his voice echoing clearly through the operating theatre. “My name is Earl Woodfield and I am so glad that you could all join our lecture. Today, I am going to show you what we do with double agents, and, as a special treat, we are going to learn some anatomy.” Earl walked over to a large briefcase that lay on a metal table and undid the clasps. He opened it, revealing an array of torturous devices. He took a long, thin metal spike and turned to the traitor. Using the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, he grabbed the eyelids and pulled them apart, revealing the hidden layer of the bloodshot eye. The double agent looked around frantically, panting, dreading what was in store for him. Earl took the needle and pierced it into his target’s eye. The double agent screamed as it slowly entered his cornea, filling his iris with blood. Earl released the needle, letting it dangle there. He turned to his audience. “Remember, if you do somehow unfortunately wound your iris, you should clean it immediately and seek a doctor, lest you go blind. Of course, having half of your vision would do you no good, would it? But, it’s not all bad, even if you did get an eye plucked out, you would still be able to aim a weapon, given the fact that it is your dominant eye that is.” He took the spike out and placed it back into the briefcase. Taking some metal pliers, he clamped the jaws down onto one of the traitor’s fingers and suddenly wrenched it. There was a terrible crack as the bone splintered, shattering. The double agent screamed in agony, tears streaming down his face. Earl turned back to his audience. “Splintered bones are a nasty business. A broken finger will heal in about six to eight weeks, but to get the full strength of the hand back, you would need another three to four months.” Turning back to his briefcase, he put the metal pliers down and instead grabbed a hammer and a single nail. He turned to his audience. “Tetanus. You know, you’ve been rummaging about in that shed that you haven’t opened in months and suddenly, you cut your finger open with a rusty nail. In most cases, death can occur within four days to three weeks. But of course, we do not live in the middle ages anymore, there is treatment available. After all, medicine has come a long way in the past millennia, has it not?” Taking his tools, he hammered the nail down into the traitor’s collarbone with a single swing. The double agent hollered in abject agony, but a couple of seconds later, he stopped and slumped his head down. “It seems that the poor fella isn’t cut out to be a masochist.”
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There was a light laughter from the audience.
“Pain stimulates the vagus nerves, our longest nerve that runs from our brain to our large intestine, both located on either side of our body. The stress from the pain stimulates a reflex called the vasovagal reaction. The heart slows down and pumps less blood, causing our blood pressure to drop. When the brain doesn’t get enough oxygen, we end up fainting. But this is only a temporary thing.”
A couple of seconds later, the double agent's eyes snapped open as he sucked in a breath of air lightly, getting his senses back. Earl replaced the hammer into the briefcase and drew out a gleaming straight razor, flipping it open.
“A gash to the neck can be fatal, but depending on how deep the cut is, it is not always so. That entirely depends on if one of the two jugular veins on either side of the neck are severed. If they are, then it is pretty much curtains for the unfortunate soul.” Earl took the straight razor and stood behind the traitor. Grabbing his head, he slowly pulled the blade across his throat. The double agent gasped for air repeatedly as the hot blood poured out of the gash, soaking his uniform. A couple of moments later, he slumped his head down, his heart beating no more. Earl turned back to his audience. “Thank you all for attending my lecture. Of course, we have no schedule, we just have to wait for some stupid person to attack us, or, somehow, simply stumble upon us. I shall see you soon.”
There was a light applause from the audience and a little moment later, they all stood up and departed. The Undertaker walked up to the corpse and undid the straps restraining it. The body collapsed to the floor and he grabbed it by its legs. The Undertaker then dragged it away, leaving a long streak of blood on the floor.
