Deus Ex: Cosplay Revolution

There comes a point in life when you throw everything away and say "I've had it, do your worst!" The point where nothing will faze you, stop you, or even begin to turn you in a different direction. The point where morality and ethics cease to be, where following the rules is the exception, where nothing short of a bullet to the head would change your mind.

For most, it never comes. For others, it's moments before death. And for a select psychopathic few it was a part of their identity the day they were born.

Me? I might've been approaching that point. This might not have been it, but I could see it, closing in on me like a bullet caught on a high-speed camera. Some day, and some day soon, I'd scream to the heavens and lose my mind.

Today wasn't that day.

I breathed, feeling the adrenaline drain out.

"Get up." I growl, jerking the bug-thing to her feet. Soon as her weight lands on the leg I stabbed she lets out a broken sob, damn near collapsing on me.

In the darkness then? Might've looked stoic, but on the outside I was scowling.

"Fine." I say, taking a hand off her throat and picking her up by the waist. She's hissing in pain, probably from the scalds all over her, but I try to ignore it as I take her over to the living room couch. Soon as I get there, I throw her down, finally seeing the knife still embedded in her thigh.

Immediately, she tries to get it out. Before she can even get a hand on it, I've grabbed her by the wrist, making certain she knew I had a deathgrip.

"Don't. You take that out and you'll be in worse shape."

Slowly, she puts her arms to her side, eyes darting all over. In waiting for her to calm down, I dig out a cigarette and light it up. I take a drag, blowing the smoke up into the air for her to see.

Soon as she's still enough to be considered "calm", I take the cancer stick out of my mouth and give her a stink-eye. "Now, I might not have been in the greatest of moods when you broke in, and I most certainly ain't in a good one now, but I am not needlessly cruel."

She shifts in her seat. "Wha-what do you want? What do you want from me?"

I grinned as fakely as I could. "I want to lock you up in jail. But first, let me ask you a simple question; do you know who I am?"

Something dawns on her face, whether it be surprise or dread I can't tell. "You're-You're that-that-"

"I am. Darrell Mays, private investigator. You've read the newspapers, correct? How they say I stopped a rapist?" She nods. "Well then, I would also like to tell you something the papers didn't; the rapist was a whole lot stronger, badder, meaner, and tougher than you. Guess how many injuries she had when I was done with her?"

"H-How many?"

Time to bluff. "Broke both her arms and a leg, cracked her skull right open, made her bleed all over. Janitors must've had a conniption fit, 'cause I redid the tiles. At least the blood blended in with the red carpet." I took a drag on the cigarette. "And I didn't get out unscathed either. Bitch damn near put an entire flamin' sword through my chest and a cut on my arm nastier than the one on your thigh."

I rolled up the shirt, thankful for the lack of light. Looked like it had reopened at one end, blood dripping down my arm and making it look far larger than it did.

"Now, do you smoke?"

She shook her head. "N-No."

"Good. It's absolutely horrrific for your health, and I really don't like doing it myself, but do you want to know some fun facts? About smoking, if you want to."

She's still.

"There are over four-hundred chemicals in this cigarette. The majority of them are hilariously toxic, but not addictive. The thing that gets you hooked is nicotine," I state, showing her the half-burnt stick of paper and tobacco. "Tobacco is another big ingredient, considering its effects on the body. Also very addictive."

"W-why are you telling me this?"

"Ah, because I can. And you never said 'no', did you?" I take one last drag, blowing the smoke into the air before letting her see the still-orange tip. "Now, how hot do you think the end of this is? Hot, very hot, or fucking hot?"

"H-hot."

The fake grin is still on my face. "You are correct. The end of this can hit some real high temperatures. Five-hundred degrees Fahrenheit, I believe. This one is probably sitting around three-hundred. Still enough to give you a nasty burn."

It dawns on her then. I snuff the cigarette out, showing her the pack of I'd just dug into. "Y-you wouldn't!"

"No, no I wouldn't. But the mere idea of it got under your skin, didn't it? The fact that I could even come up with something like that should tell you all you need to know. I'm not needlessly cruel, nor unfeelingly cold, but I do see the advantages of a... rougher treatment."

The bug shrinks back. "D-don't hurt me! Please!"

The chuckle that comes out of my mouth must've sounded real villainous. "You would clam up if I did."

I take one last drag. "Now, you will tell me everything I want to know. As soon as I have exhausted every possible option, then we will talk of what happens to you. Can we agree on that?" I ask, extending my bloodied hand.

Her face screams that she doesn't want to do it, but the fact that she shook it anyway put a grin on my face. I'd rather not do anything other than talk, because... I had to face it, I wasn't an action hero. I couldn't bring myself to do... that.

"So, first things first, what's your name?"