{TW: Graphic Violence --don’t read this if you’ve a delicate constitution.}
It was, perhaps, not the ideal location for what he was about to do, but Gregor Wachenfeld was not as dramatic as his brother. He did not have quite the same theatrical nature, and so the idea of an elaborate setup for the pain he was going to inflict was far from his mind.
Beneath him, Daley Salko was still wheezing, blood on his lips from the damage done when Gregor had broken his sternum with a single, well-placed blow. The man looked sickly grey and drawn; his struggles were weak. It was simple for Gregor to shift his knees to pin the man's arms down and he took a moment to consider.
Just how much could he do in the limited time he would have? Gagging Daley would need to be done. Although the broken sternum would keep him from getting much air, he could still make enough noise to bring the patrolling Vanguard coming. They were in a relatively isolated area, and it was unlikely that someone random would peek in through the ruins--still not rebuilt, considering the repeated bombings that had torn this section of Ebonhawke apart.
He was confident that he had the time he needed. And if he was interrupted, it would be a simple matter to get he and Daley away before someone tried to step in.
Handkerchief balled up, he whisked Daley's loosened cravat off of his throat, stuffing one into Daley's mouth and binding it in place with the other. There were large stones, jarred loose from the crumbling masonry, and Gregor was just able to reach them as he stretched forward. They even rolled with a little tugging, making it quite easy to bring them closer. Even with his position, Gregor couldn't lift either stone with one hand, and he nodded his satisfaction before rolling one onto Daley's prone hand.
Bone cracked and the man's bulging eyes widened further. The gag muffled his coughing screams well enough that Gregor wasn't particularly worried as he rolled the other stone into place on the man's other hand, neatly pinning his arms down. It freed Gregor to rock back and hold Daley's ankles down, halting the man in mid-kick. Multiple blades were always useful; he examined the ground beneath Daley and shifted the man's feet just a few inches.
Hard packed earth. Much better.
It took some effort to get the blade through Daley's first ankle and into the ground, but the thrashing was certainly worth it. Now he was getting some small taste of the pain he'd inflicted on his siblings over what Gregor understood had been years of torture. The second blade went through with a push, breaking through cartilage and skin with a spurt of blood and another writhing, muffled scream from Daley.
The acrid scent of urine made Gregor's nose wrinkle; he carefully moved himself away from the pinned man and shook his head once.
Daley Salko enjoyed causing pain, but he couldn't handle receiving it. Gregor wasn't surprised.
"I don't know everything you've done to your siblings," he said, crouching near Daley's head. "But I know enough to be certain you should have been handled years ago." The straight razor in hand, he tapped the flat of it against Daley's nose and observed the man's color. It wouldn't do for him to choke to death before Gregor had even begun.
"We were trained for efficiency, so I am not an expert at this." Gregor's smile was broad and didn't reach his eyes. "But I haven't practiced as you have."
It was a flick of his wrist to open the buttons of Daley's shirt, baring the man's chest where a black bruise was spreading from the broken sternum concealed beneath skin and muscle. Tapping the edge of the razor against Daley's skin, Gregor watched him flinch and felt only supreme satisfaction that he was going to be the one to take this repugnant deviant off of the face of the earth.
"I can practice on you, however. You've flayed someone before, haven't you? Of course you have, a man like you. How deep should I go to remove only the skin?" Gregor tilted his wrist, trailing the razor across Daley's ribs. When he was away from the spreading bruise, he angled his wrist and applied pressure, a line of crimson welling as he drew the razor downward. Daley's squeal was porcine and it made Gregor laugh.
"Over a little cut, you make such noise! And if I make another?" He was beginning to smile--a half-mad expression of righteous glee--as he drew the blade down again, curving it to connect the two shallow cuts. "Now, let's see..."
As Daley thrashed, Gregor tilted the blade and worked the edge beneath the top of the peak he'd created on the man's side. Muscle twitched and sweat was pouring off of the prone man. His shoulders rocked with every full-bodied thrash and more blood was pooling around his ankles as he yanked against the blades that held him down.
"There we are. Right beneath the skin." Gregor looked at the tiny flap of skin that was laying against the razor's metal. Such a small piece... "This won't do at all, will it? I wonder how resilient your skin is. Will it be hard to pull off of your body or will I be able to do so with only my hand?"
The razor edged down, blood beading around it, and the curl of skin flapped against the metal. Gregor watched the progress before he looked up at Daley, smiling with a sense of profound satisfaction at the strain written across the man's face. He looked to have aged a decade in only moments and his eyes were bloodshot now, minute capillaries having burst from the force of his gagged screaming.
"Collect yourself a moment," Gregor said calmly, his eyes gleaming, and he took the razor away, flicked it to clear some of the blood from the metal. As Daley gasped for air, still shuddering violently, Gregor grasped the loose flap of skin and waited again. It was beginning to smell rather like an abattoir and he ducked his head to snort out a breath before letting out a sigh.
Daley believed the ruse; he relaxed (somewhat) and began struggling to get a hand out from beneath the rock holding it down. Only then did Gregor begin pulling, watching the flap of skin grow larger by the moment, raw red flesh glistening beneath it.
Oh, the screaming... Oh, the screaming!
Even the handkerchief wasn't enough to wholly muffle it. Daley's screams were almost clearly audible through the fabric, they were let forth with such volume. He jerked wildly, causing the flap Gregor was pulling to dance about in the Wachenfeld's grasp, and his screaming only grew louder as Gregor angled the flap of skin to look beneath.
"Ah, I see. This is all the way through the skin and to the muscle beneath. I wonder if shaving the skin off, layer by layer, would be easier?"
As he spoke, he continued to pull the skin away until the strip was stretched between his hand and Daley's side, exposing the shuddering flesh beneath. Gregor regarded it, tapped it with the edge of the razor and listened to Daley's renewed squealing. "Ohohoho, the nerves are still alive and well, are they? Well..."
With a gleaming smile, Gregor straightened and held the flap of skin taut, watching as the flesh tore at the corners. He leaned over to meet Daley's bulging, glassy eyes and laughed.
"...let's see how much we can take off before you finally die."
His arm flexed and skin tore, leaving a ragged line and a gaping patch of exposed muscle tissue, and Daley's scream cut through the gag.