Dynamics of a Human Heart Ch. 08

"I'm sure you were just begging for it," the older man sneered.

"The only begging to be done was by Jeff when Grey caned him in front of God and the world. He's mad as a hatter: he doesn't feel things like fear or pity or regret. You think prison is going to scare him, I've seen the man's lair, San Quentin would be an upgrade." She moved in for the kill, "Nothing in your experience has every prepared you for facing him and if you come after us, he will come after you and if that happens, all the money in the world won't keep his hands from you."

"Edward," the plain woman opened her mouth, speaking for the first time, "Please—"

"No one was talking to you, shut up!"

The woman simply hung her head and said nothing further.

"Mister Hillsgrove," Miranda began quietly, interposing herself between he and Sam, "What Grey did to your son was unlawful as was my attacking him in the cafeteria. I am prepared to pay whatever price the law dictates," Her voice was calm and conciliatory, "But I implore you, let this be settled in a court of law. Things have spun completely out of control and the only person who has the power to restore sanity to this matter is you. The power is yours, Mister Hillsgrove; use it and let us all find some measure of peace regarding all this madness."

There was a pregnant pause.

Edward leered at them, "Oh, don't worry, I fully intend to use each and every resource the American justice system has available to deep fuck you and your gimp girlfriend—"

"Edward!" Vega barked to no avail.

"—into career oblivion," the other man continued seamlessly. "By the time I'm through with you two, you won't be able to afford a pair of chopsticks." He moved in for the kill, "But before I do that, I'm going to do each of you, nice and slow. I'm going to destroy everything and everyone you care about and by the time I'm finished, you'll beg to settle. You think people like me worry about taking on a court of law? I have a stable of lawyers and jury consultants that say I am the law. So you have two choices, hand over your little friend and I'll just ruin your lives. Hold out, and I'll destroy them."

The girls looked at each other and conveyed a single shared thought.

"Edward...?" Sam started calmly.

"What?"

"Go fuck yourself," Miranda finished.

"Well said," Isabel said quietly from the back, smiling wolfishly.

"You just made the worst mistake of your miserable life!" Edward roared, "I'm going to—!"

That's when an explosion of rasping laughter erupted from somewhere outside the room; a high-pitched wheezing shriek that sounded like the death rattle of a hysterical lunatic.

Both girls whirled in shock as the sound of slow, methodical footsteps approached them.

"Oh crap, that's terrifying," Sam hissed.

"Deus ex machine," Miranda said quietly.

Edward suddenly looked very unsettled, "What does that mean?"

"It means," Sam stated," run for your life before he tears your legs out from under you."

Then the laughter became a shrill whistle, which became a jaunty tune that was wildly off-key.

Sam frowned in thought, and then her blue eyes went wide.

"'Singing in the rain'?" she looked up at Miranda in alarm, "Fuck me running, he's channeling Alex Delarge," she shuddered as she recalled the brutality in the film, "Oh this is going to suck."

The double doors exploded open, a lone figure rushed into the room like a dust devil, spinning about and slamming the doors shut with his back to the small crowd of disquieted individuals.

Miranda found her voice first, "Grey?" she whispered, seeking some reassurance about what was to come.. (

Slowly, his head rotated around cockeyed and twisted, only fully turning when his neck forced his torso to shift with the movement. It gave Miranda the impression of a broken puppet.

"Hiiiiii," (sounds better with Helloooo) he rasped. He was dressed all in black, in ragged clothing that may have once been elegant but were now shredded and torn. His eyes were sunken, surrounded by darkness so pronounced it looked like eye shadow. His normally pale skin was flushed, he looked feverish and his mismatched green eyes gleamed with madness from the recesses of his skull.

"Greetings and salutations ladies and gentlemen. Such a commotion for one teeny, tiny, act of emasculation," he grinned at them, baring his teeth, the scar at his mouth emphasized by the act, "Such a commotion."

Edward found his voice first as Grey approached him, "I will not be intimidated by a cheap thug!"

Edward's wife approached from the side as Grey closed the distance, her mouth open in warning, "Edw--!"

And then, Grey put a knife in her mouth.

"urk!"

Everyone gasped and back peddled away; one minute, the man's arm had been at his side, the next, his arm was extended, a shank having slid out, from up his sleeve.

"You were saying?" Grey asked in that same voice that sounded like it dwelt somewhere between the back of his throat and a complete psychotic break.

"Grey, please, whatever you're going to do, don't," Miranda pleaded.

Grey looked at her for a second and then calmly began to rotate the blade in the woman's mouth, causing it to scrape along her teeth and making her whimper.

"Daddy's very angry right now," he informed them, the knife was now straight up and down in the woman's face, the edges scratching against her soft palate and gums, "And if everyone doesn't play by Daddy's rules, I'm going to give Missus Doormat here a nice, pretty smile," he gestured to the scar at his mouth with his free hand,

"Just like mine!" he finished jovially and then he flew into another hysterical fit of wheezing laughter causing the blade to bounce up and down.

Miranda and Sam made eye contact with twin expressions of revelation and revulsion. Grey's scar, someone had...carved into him, just as he was threatening to do now. The idea of it made both women sick to their stomachs, envisioning the act of a knife slicing into his face and causing that horrible wound. Deliberately done to him by another human being.

Edward rediscovered his courage, "I will not tolerate this abuse!"

Grey leered at him with his crocodile grin, "What a truly excellent turn of phrase," turning his attention back to Edward's wife, he tapped her upper teeth.

"Open, please," he asked simply. The woman hesitated, "Open your mouth," he repeated, "or I will make you swallow this blade."

"For fuck's sake, do what he says!" Sam yelled at her, her eyes wide.

The woman nearly jumped out of her skin but she complied. Grey removed the knife from her mouth and peered inside.

"You've had four teeth replaced," he observed. He then brought the knife back up and tapped one, hard. The woman groaned in pain, "And one of them is still fresh," he removed the knife from her mouth again and tapped her chin with it "Button up there, princess, you'll swallow a fly." The woman obeyed.

"Now then," Grey refocused his attention, "We were on the subject of abuse, no?"

He turned around so abruptly it made everyone jump as he locked eyes with the trembling woman before him.

"Don't flinch," and then he lashed out with his knife: across her collar, down her side, up her sleeve in a single fluid motion, fast as a snake and as precise as a surgeon.

"Grey!" Miranda yelled.

"Be quiet and be still, Dr. Inoue," Grey instructed.

"You have no right—"

"I don't require the right, you stupid little girl!" he exploded forth, "I simply require the means, and make no mistake; I am a man of means!"

Miranda's heart stopped at his words and his tone. She fell silent and numb.

"You bastard," Sam snarled at him, "After all we were going to sacrifice to save your ass."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

Those words silenced Sam as surely as a slap to the face and she fell in with her lover in stunned silence.

"I...," Edward stammered, vainly attempting to regain control of the situation.

"You're frightened, Edward," Grey smirked, "Don't be, now is not the time to be afraid. Do not worry though, when it is time for you to beg, I will make certain you know."

"I'll have you arrested!" he yelled, "You'll go to jail for the rest of your life!"

"Really? That's so frightening," he shrugged casually, "Right now, my crimes are assault and...," he peered at the shredded clothes upon Edward's wife, "...butchery of knock-off Prada," he snorted in derision, "Now then, let's talk about your crimes."

"My crime—?"

Gently, Grey pushed aside the sliced fabric at the woman's throat: lining her skin where long, angry red welts and streaks combined with black, splotchy bruises.

"Such clumsy brutality," Grey admonished, gesturing, "Ligature marks, Mister Hillsgrove, likely done by a scarf or rope," his eyes flickered to Edward's shoes, "Your shoelaces do not match, Mr. Hillsgrove."

Edward blanched as Grey heedlessly continued, tracing his blade down the woman's neck lightly before parting the clothing at her breastbone.

There were several poorly healed wounds long and jagged, some fresh, others crusted with scabs.

"Lacerations," Grey stated simply. He peered at the wounds with a clinical detachment, "Done by something thin and blunt-tipped. A wire clothes-hanger, perhaps?"

Edward sputtered in indignation as Grey met his eyes, unfazed by the man's outrage, "Right in one, I see. Let's find out what else the story of her tortured flesh has to tell," he slowly traced the blade down to the woman side and parted the cloth there.

Deep bruises ranging in color from pale yellow to black and indigo.

"Sub dermal bruising," he gestured, "and," he lightly rapped his knuckles against the bruises causing the woman to cry out in pain and collapse, "cracked ribs," he gestured at the marks, "Doctor Adler, notice anything familiar about these wounds?"

Sam swallowed once and nodded, "They're consistent with the wounds you have, that Jeff and his friends gave you when they jumped you."

"What a happy coincidence," Grey crouched down next to the woman, "What was done to you by your man was done to me by your son. You are a terrible mother."

She began to cry then, but the Englishman was relentless.

"There's something wrong," Miranda spoke up.

"We're watching someone get tortured to death," Isabel spoke up for the first time, "Grey, stop this madness."

"Her bruises aren't just consistent with yours, they're identical," Miranda screwed up her courage and unleashed her intellectual arsenal, "Edward's feet are too small to have made those marks."

"True, but her son's about the right size, no?"

"My God," President Vega whispered.

"God? God isn't in California this time of year, didn't you know?" Grey reached down and grabbed the woman's wrist, yanking her hard to her feet. The woman cried out, even as Grey tore the clothing away at her wrists:

Large scars slashed across her skin.

"And now the ultimate punch line," Grey proclaimed. He placed the tip of the blade at her wrist and lightly scrapped down her skin, "It's 'down the street', not 'across the block'," he released her and the woman covered her face and wept. "You failed as a mother, you've failed as a wife, and you've failed as a human being, you might as well get something right before you check out."

Grey shifted his attention from the wife to the husband, "Now then, are you ready to confess your crimes?"

Edward's had gone a very unhealthy shade of gray as he continued to stare uncomprehendingly at the scene unfolding before him.

"I didn't think so."

Something caught Grey's eye suddenly, he reached over and yanked a cross from off Edward's wife's neck.

"Is this yours?" Grey demanded.

"Please..." the woman whimpered.

"Spare me," he spat as he studied the cross.

"Are you a 'God-fearing' man, Mr. Hillsgrove?" Grey addressed Edward while keeping his attention fixated on the trembling woman before him.

"You should be. Between the Jews and the Christians, God is not painted in a sympathetic light. It butchers entire generations and cities full of men, women, and children whose only crime was being born under the wrong king. Compare God's behavior to that of every demon or fallen angel, the Morningstar included, and you will find that the forces of Hell, for all their evil, cannot begin to compete when it comes to genocide." Grey closed his fist over the cross and began to squeeze, "No, God does not want faith, it wants what all merciless beings of power want: Fear." His knuckles went white and blood began to trickle from between his fingers, "So, are you a God-fearing man? Because that is the only prayer any of you have right now of leaving this room whole."

"Please...stop hurting me," the woman begged.

"And how many times did you ask your son or your husband to do so? They were supposed to be your doting husband and your loving son and you couldn't stop them, what hope do you think you have in swaying me?"

He finally turned to face Edward, "You may begin to beg now, if you'd like. To your God, or to me, it does not matter. The end result will be the same." Blood had begun to spatter upon the floor as Grey continued heedlessly, "Am I my brother's keeper? He left his only son nailed to writhe upon a thing of wood and iron, what chance do you believe you have with God's mercy?"

Grey opened his hand. His fingers were sticky with blood: the cross was now a crushed mass of gold and crimson. He dropped it at Mrs. Hillsgroves' feet.

"Here endeth the lesson."

The woman broke. She gave forth a tremendous sob and fell to her knees moaning incoherently.

"You sick bastard," Miranda choked out.

"I'm in good company," Grey replied gesturing at Edward and his wife. He peered down at his handiwork, "She has been broken." He stated simply, "One down," he turned to focus on Edward, "One to go."

He began to walk towards the man. To those assembled he looked lean, predatory.
Edward back-pedaled away from him, eyes wide, "Stay—stay away from me!" His voice going high and hysterical. He nearly collided into Isabel who simply stepped past him on an intercept course with the crazed Englishman, only to have him walk past her to the window facing east.

Grey stood there for a span of several heartbeats, his back to all assembled, silhouetted in the morning light.

Then, he shrugged off his coat and let it fall to a ruined heap at his feet. Underneath, he was dressed in a well-cut suit.

"Grey...?" Sam whispered. He did not reply, instead he brought his trembling hands to his chin and slowly slide his palms over his mouth and up his face and as he reached the top of his head, his hands stilled and he smoothed back his hair. He looked sleek now; composed and calm.

Finally, he turned to face those assembled, taking in the weeping form of the woman on the floor, the looks of horror on the faces of those before him before focusing on Edward.

"Good morning, Mister Hillsgrove," he smiled, "How's the family?"

It was in that one moment of terrible revelation, that all came to believe what Miranda so desperately dreaded.

Grey was completely insane.

"Oh, I'm not referring to your neutered son, or your..." he gestured to the woman on the floor, "...abused bride. No, I'm talking about your other children. Rebecca age 8 and Jenny—"

Miranda saw something then that filled her with hope.

Pain.

Like a crack running through a mirror, Grey's expression flinched and in that one, involuntary movement that she saw the man she'd grown to feel for. It was in his scarred eye that she saw pain and longing, like that last moment between them when she stood bare before him, shine in his eye like a broken jewel.

Help.

He blinked and it was gone.

"And Jennifer, age 6," he said more carefully.

"You twisted fuck," Edward hissed.

"I am, at that," Grey conceded. He reached within his jacket and produced a small cell phone, handing it over to the trembling man, "It's remarkable how much faith we put in strangers to care for those we value most."

Edward's entire body began to shake as he thumbed through the pictures: his daughters getting on the bus, playing outside, eating lunch, and walking home.

"The bus driver with the gambling problem, the alcoholic school nurse, the vice principal fucking one of the student body," Grey fixed him with a level look.

"Now is the time to be afraid, Mister Hillsgrove. Now is the time to beg."

"Who...who are you?" Edward choked out.

"Who I am is irrelevant, Mister Hillsgrove," he casually took the phone away from the quaking man, "I am what people like you think people like me are; I am a nobody, an anonymous drone, featureless and inconsequential. It is the design, my design, which matters."

In this moment in the design, Edward Hillsgrove came to know a fear more profound than any sensation that he had ever experienced.

"What are you?" he whispered.

"I am the bane of your existence, your very way of life and the enemy of all those who share in that lifestyle. I am a long-delayed reckoning; its simplicity is only matched by its brutality, without fear of consequence. I am the purifying fire. I am Hell, Edward Hillsgrove. And I have come for you."

"You're some kind of devil worshipping psycho?"

Grey laughed then, it sounded as hateful and bitter as the winter cold, "I count the master amongst my enemies; what makes you believe I would be capable of bending knee to the slave?

"You're...evil!"

"A necessary evil," Sam's voice called out. The others turned to look at her as she wheeled right up to Edward, "People like you created the system this world suffers under. People like you created ways to exploit it, because people like you believe this world and everyone in it is theirs to exploit and abuse. You and yours wrote the rules we're all supposed to live by. Therefore, you know how to twist them, pervert them and break them to suit your needs. Moreover, since good people go by the rules, your rules can't stop you. And since it's clear that good people can't do anything to stop you..." she looked Grey square in the eye, "...then consider me a villain from this fucking point forward."

"Well said," Isabel added quietly.

"You, you're all insane!" Edward yelled, "I'll sue all of you; I'm a very powerful man and I—"

And then, Grey took the other man's hand in his and began to squeeze.

"Educate me then, for I do not understand; exactly what manner of power do you command when I can do this to you?"

"Take your hands off me."

Grey sighed, "What we have here is failure to communicate. Permit me then to explain in a language that you will perhaps have a finer comprehension of."

He took Edward's thumb in his hand, "You believe that, because of your resources, I can be bribed," he took the man's finger, pulled and twisted.

Snap!

"I cannot."

Edward screamed like an animal, "You broke my finger!"

"No, I dislocated it. I can break it though. I can cripple you, if I like. I will cripple you unless you keep your mouth shut."

Edward abruptly stopped screaming and began instead to emit a low whining sound.

"You believe that, because of your social status, you can bully me, you cannot," Grey calmly informed the whimpering man as he gripped his index finger.

Snap! Another finger was twisted from its' socket.

Edward screamed again as Grey finished dislocating the joint.

"Grey, stop this!" Miranda cried out.

"The lesson has not yet been learned," he replied simply.

"No, no, I...get it!" the man's eyes bulged.

Snap! His middle finger now bent at an unnatural angle.

Edward shrieked in pain and began to look like he would be ill.

"No, no you don't get it, but you will," he gripped the man's ring finger, "You believe that because you possess wealth it can purchase my mercy, it cannot."