Yesterday's Gone: Season One

Boricio. He wanted to see the fucker’s pupils dilate. So he kicked him in the ribs to roll him over. The guard tried to cover his face but Boricio kicked his hands away, then put every one of his 200 pounds behind the heel he smashed into the fucker’s face.
    Dead Guard Walking was still trying to catch his breath from the knee to the gut, so he couldn’t scream. It didn’t help that he was choking on three teeth, not including the one he spit. Boricio casually walked to the baseball bat, picked it up, then swung it in wide, playful arcs.
    “You all can take your blindfolds off now, and watch, as the game is about to begin. Hey batter, batter, swiiiing...Hey batter, batter, swiiiing...”   Boricio looked around the room to see just what his little army was made of. Manny, Moe and Jack all wore morbid curiosity. Charlie was smiling. Adam was covering his eyes.  
    “I do wish we had more time together,” Boricio cooed to the guard. “Unfortunately, we’re going to end our rendezvous early, because I’m about to fuck you like you was paying for it.”
    Boricio raised the bat high above his head.
    Dead Guard Walking cried out, “Wait!”
    “What’s that?” Boricio said, lowering the bat and leaning on it like he was the Monopoly Man slouching on his cane.
    “Please,” Dead Guard Walking said through tears, “Don’t kill me.”
    Boricio laughed. “Wow, what happened to the high-octane bad ass? Mr. ‘I am the motherfuckin’ law?’ Did he have to go potty?”
    The man whimpered something as Boricio picked up the bat and shoved the ball end into the back of the man’s neck, hard.
    “Just as I thought, all fuckin’ talk, you Try Hard wanna-be. I could smell your counterfeit cock in cunt’s clothing, fake ass macho shit the minute you walked in.”
    “Please, I’ll do anything,” the guy said. “I’ll help you escape.”
    “Anything?” Boricio asked, ignoring the offer of escape. “Hmmm, how about sucking my dick?”
    Boricio smiled at the defeat in the man’s eyes. It was like the opposite of a glimmer of hope in someone’s eyes. Boricio often thought of it as a glimmer of nope.
    “Open your mouth,” Boricio said.
    Dead Guard Walking stared.
    “You deaf and dumb? I said open your fucking mouth!” Boricio raised the bat.
    Dead Guard Walking opened his mouth.
    “Now close your eyes and don’t make me ask you twice.”
    Dead Guard Walking closed his eyes, bitch ass tears running down his face. Boricio took the narrow end of the bat and shoved it in the man’s mouth. Dead Guard Walking gagged, lurching back, trying not to vomit. He didn’t try hard enough.
    “What’s that?” Boricio said digging the the bat deeper, forcing Dead Guard Walking to gag and swallow his own vomit.
    Boricio laughed, squatting, pulling the bat just slightly out of the man’s mouth, chunks of vomit on the handle.
    “Say it,” Boricio whispered into the man’s ear.
    “What?”
    “Say you’ll be my bitch.”
    Dead Guard Walking squirmed, and for a moment, seemed like he might try to fight. Boricio shoved the bat in deeper, causing the man to gag again, dry heaves this time.
    “Say it, bitch,” Boricio said.
    “I’ll be your bitch!” he cried.
    Boricio smiled. This asshole had been too easy to break. He’d love to have an hour alone with him, to really show him what Boricio was capable of when properly motivated and inspired. So rare that his victims actually earned what was coming to them, so moments like these were special, and Boricio hated wasting them.
    He pulled the bat from Dead Guard Walking’s mouth. The man collapsed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, too ashamed to look up.  
    “Yoo hoo,” Boricio whispered to get the man’s attention as he raised the bat high above his head. The guard looked up as Boricio brought the bat down fast and hard. A dull thwap echoed through the tiny room. Not quite brain stew, but Dead Guard Walking had finally earned his name. Well, except for the walking part.
    Boricio dropped the bat and turned to take a bow. The room was still, except for the sound of the bat rolling across the floor, but the men were on their feet, ready.  
    “What’s next, boss?” Moe said.  
    No hesitation. Boricio walked up to Moe, threw a flat palm beneath his chin, then kicked his feet from under him. His arms were around Moe’s neck in a second. Boricio twisted his head and snapped his spinal cord. Moe’s body dropped to the floor like an empty sack.