Having Fun

Nobody likes you.

He smiled, cruelly, a small chuckle ghosted past his lips. He sharpened the knife, a graceful ringing sound echoed through the kitchen, momentarily bringing an end to the cacophony that had previously filled the room. They would pay for this, they would pay dearly. In the most delicious way possible.

Everyone left you.

He was alone, always alone. Forgotten. Abandoned. Ignored. Used. Left behind. Naught but a tool, picked up and put down at its masters whim. Once too many times, they had overlooked him, and now they would suffer for it. He wouldn't kill them, not at first. First they had to suffer, like he did.


They're all out without you.

He could hear them, his 'Papa' was probably loudest of all, that was good, let the man despair, like how he had despaired when 'Papa' handed him to the enemy.
But it wasn't just 'Papa' down there. Oh no, the rest of them were suffering as well. He had seen the 'Hero' cry. He had made the 'Hero' cry. That had been entertaining.
The seven of them were down there, all the other seven members of the G8, the seven whose company he found himself in most often.
All seven of them were screaming, it was a most heavenly sound.


Having fun.

He dropped the whet stone, it hit the floor with a loud thunk, commanding silence.
"Now, who shall we serve first?"