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Summary
Vincent balled his hands into fists. “You son of a bitch, I’ll— I’ll scream!”
“Oh, I do hope so.” As Vincent opened his mouth to protest, a thick wad of cloth was stuffed inside. “But try not to be too loud, hmm? Wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors.”
Vincent choked as he heard the drop of a needle and the familiar opening static of one of his records. He screamed into the gag, but whatever it was made of, it muffled him quite a lot. A slender finger traced itself across his jaw. “You’ve been rather amusing, Mr. Whittman. I think I’ll take my time with you.”
———
Usually, Vincent’s targets don’t bite back quite as hard as this.