Reborn to Devour: A Demonic LitRPG

“So this is where he is?” I asked.

We had taken our time to reach our destination and holed out in a motel until Charles’ contact gave us a call. It gave me the chance to scarf down a burger and get changed into my nondescript black hoodie and sweatpants while Terry snored loudly on the couch.

Now, we found ourselves slowly pulling into a parking lot of a dingy nightclub quarter after one in the morning. The lot was still slightly over half full and the reverberations from the partying could be heard outside. It was a party for old people as they blasted their late 90’s and early 00’s dance music.

“Yep,” Terry replied. “This one Jaime’s been dealing with. She’s waiting by that shitty little black Prius over there.”

We hopped out of the truck and made our way to the car. Looking our way was a blonde woman that leaned on its hood. She was in her late thirties or early forties. She wore a tight fitting canary yellow blouse that left little to the imagination with tighter blue jeans. I could see that her tools to entice clients were quite effective. She took long drags of her cigarette and appraised us with a raised eyebrow.

“If you’re looking to try to take me home, I’ll have to decline,” Jaime commented with a judgmental gaze at my greasy partner before sending a glance my way. “Well, I’m not too busy for you. I don’t mind putting this off for fifteen minutes if you’d like a tour of my backseat.”

“So, where is he?” Terry asked sharply, his stubborn pride somehow wounded by the truth. “Will he come quiet?”

Jaime flicked her burning cigarette onto the pavement and stomped it out with her knee-high leather boots. She flipped open a small mirror and reapplied a bit of red lipstick. She smacked her lips a few times and smiled a yellowed grin to herself.

“He expects me,” Jaime answered as she moved onto inspecting her hair. “I haven’t shown up with any backup. I’ll talk to him, walk him out, and the two of you snag him. Call Todd Peterson and head to his farm.”

“We know he has nothing?” Terry asked as he adjusted his waistband.

“All cleaned out,” Jaime replied. “My contacts in Jacksonville and my Seminole friend in Orlando both saw him trying to win it back in the casinos last weekend. Lost half of it there and spent the rest drinking himself stupid for the past week. He’s got no collateral or suitable contacts to squeeze from. Not to mention we can’t get any good organs out of an alcoholic that’s this out of shape. Charles says to make an example of him. Snap a few pics of the aftermath and send it my way. We’re going to use it to scare some other clients into overturning their couch cushions.”

“Alright,” Terry nodded in understanding of the role we were to play as Jaime made her way into the nightclub. He turned my way and motioned to the cars. “Get hidden. You’re the one that’s going to nab him and help Jaime if he gets aggressive. You know how drunks can get when they think they’re dealing with a lone woman.”

I moved to crouch behind the vehicles on the far side of the parking lot. Without the light from the streetlamps, I was fully hidden from anyone. As I waited, I wondered if this was how they waited for my own father. A web of underground scum-fucks that watched each and every braindead move that he made. I felt frustrated by the situation, at how boringly common situations like this actually were.

But, I was not left alone with my thoughts for long. I heard Jaime’s voice re-entering the parking lot. Her tone grew far more flirtatious and innocent than when she briefed us. She strutted confidently with a thin man with a beer belly in an oversized band t-shirt that could barely keep himself upright. He placed an unwashed hand on her bare shoulder for stability, much to her chagrin.

“Whoa, whoa. Wait for a second, Jaime,” the man said in slow, slurred speech and his hand gripped tightly on her shoulder. One of Jesus’ innumerable miracles must have been spent on how someone with a BAC of .2 could remain standing.

I began to move from my hiding spot. The man’s back was to me and he had the awareness of a blind-mute.

“What, Bill?” She asked. Her eyes looked directly at me for a brief moment. “I told you that we needed to talk. You knew that this was coming.”

“Yeah, but we just talk here,” Bill argued through nods of near unconsciousness. “Why are you acting weird? Just give me one more loan and I can fix all of this. You like me enough to do that for me, right Jamie?”

“Sorry, Bill,” Jaime said with puppy dog eyes. “This was the last money you’ll get from me.”

“What did you say?” Bill shouted in Jaime’s face.

I now loomed behind the man. With a strong hand, I spun him around to face me. I gripped his loose t-shirt in my right hand and began to drag him towards the truck. He limply flailed in my grip like a fish struck by a boat. But, instead of looking at me, he continued to stare at Jaime as though he were expecting her to save him.

“Huh, Jaime!” Bill called to his loan shark as Terry opened the doors to the truck. “What’s going on? What are you doing to me?”

“Bye, Bill,” Jaime waved with an exaggerated motion and a fake smile. “It was not a pleasure.”

I shoved him into the back seat of the truck and slammed the door on him. Jaime walked up to the truck as Terry and I climbed into the front seat. A disgusted look was plastered to her face as she massaged her shoulder.

“Have fun you three,” Jaime said to Terry and me. “And you, if you are around the border again, let me know and we can have a nice dinner.”

“Save your breath, Jaime,” Terry said in annoyance. He took it out on the ignition and jerked it sharply on. The truck sputtered to life and flooded the cabin with fumes. “The kid is already worshiping a younger version of you.”

“At least he has taste,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

With that, we pulled out of the parking lot and began to make our way out of the city. Outside of some night shift workers and drunk drivers, the roads were bare. Our headlights were the only ones that shone through the rural darkness.

Bill, after being dragged into an unfamiliar truck by unfamiliar men, began to sober up. I could hear him breathe slowly as he tried to suppress his anxiety.

“So, where are we going?” Bill asked. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“Less you ask, the better,” Terry answered and Bill obediently shut up like a dog that doesn’t know he’s on his final car ride to the vet. “Kid, reach in my glovebox and find the number for Todd. Let him know we’re going to use his property. Use my phone and keep calling the bastard until he picks up.”

I fumbled in the darkness to find the latch for the glove compartment until I found the metal handle. I popped it open for a small light to illuminate a black leather-bound book. I opened it up to find a series of contact names and phone numbers. I flipped through the pages until I found Todd Peterson. Entering the digits onto Terry’s crusty phone, I reluctantly held it up to my ear to listen to the ringing.

I received an automated message that voicemail was not enabled on this device. I hung up and redialed a second and third time before an irate voice came from the other side.

“Terry, I swear to Christ! Do you know that it’s after two?” Todd’s voice pierced through the receiver. “What the fuck do you want?”

“We’re using your property,” I responded and made sure to only use the words that Terry commanded.

“Who the hell are you?” Todd demanded. “Did Terry finally kick it?”

I looked towards Terry. “Unfortunately not,” I replied. “He’s in the seat next to me. Jaime told us to call you.”

“Oh, Jaime?” His voice immediately lightened up at the woman’s name. Suddenly, he became cordial. “Yeah, she said someone was going to get it. Thought she’d be the one to give me the heads up. Use the field on the north side of the property, nobody’s going to be out there for a while. Make sure you’re out of there by five. And tell Terry not to forget to use his silencer.”

“Alright,” I answered as the call ended. I looked back at Terry. “He said go to the north field and not to forget your-“

“I’m not going to forget!” Terry shouted angrily, telling me that there was a longer story attached.

We drove in silence for about twenty more minutes until Terry turned left on a dirt road. The truck bounced and rumbled over the bumpy road. The truck kicked up dust as it sped. Horses and cows looked up at the sudden light before passing out of view.

Terry turned the truck into one of the fields, going off-road entirely. He drove to the far end of the field and put the truck in park and mashing down the parking brake for good measure. His fingers spun the radio volume down and opened the door.

“Alright, get him out,” he ordered.

I obliged. My hands grabbed Bill by the back of his shirt and I wrenched him out of the back seat. He tried to fight back a little, but his slovenly physique never had hope of freeing itself. I walked him to the spot in the headlights that Terry stood in. I forced him to kneel on the ground. He put his hands in front of his face to keep the blinding light out of his eyes.

“You’re going to be the triggerman on this one,” Terry told me. He pulled his gun from his belt and held it out to me. “Finish it quick so we can get out of here.”

I looked at the handgun. ‘I was going to be the killer?’ A strange feeling came over me. It was not the nervousness or sickness that I was told before taking a life. Instead, a calm curiosity took over my mind. I always liked getting into fights or hitting people as hard as I could on the football field. What would the next stage feel like? Would it feel even better?

“Wait, wait, wait!” Bill pleaded from his kneeling position. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“Fuck, this guy is slow,” Terry said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You fucked around with our boss’s money too much. Jaime told you that last time was your last chance. Did you think she was fucking around when she told you that the consequences will be death?”

“Come on, I don’t deserve this,” Bill blathered. “You can still get your money back. I have a sister that I can cosign on a loan if I beg enough. She has cute kids.”

Bill’s words made something snap in my head. This man was my father. They might not have the same life or same reasons to be so indebted to Charles. But, their lack of accountability was the only thing that brought them this far. Instead of taking the punishment themselves, they’d rather pawn the consequences off to their loved ones.

I scorned Terry’s gun in favor of my own hands. My fists collided with Bill’s head with a wet, satisfying thunk. It was what I always wanted to do but held myself back from to avoid getting in trouble with the law. That didn’t matter today; it would all be covered up and I could do whatever I pleased to this piece of shit.

As he fell over, his hands splayed out to feebly defend himself, I swung again and again and again and again. I felt bones break and blood coat my hands.

Soon, his hands fell away and my hands were bludgeoning his head and chest without resistance. My brick-like hands dented and cracked and smashed as I reformed his body like it was made of clay. I knew that he was already dead; the smell of shit and piss flowed into my nose as one of his eyes was ejected from its socket. But, I wasn’t satisfied yet. So I kept going and going until, finally, the emotions that flooded my brain finally left.

I was left with a strange feeling of disappointment. I wished that he tried to fight back, that we had some sort of struggle to the death. But, I couldn’t complain too much. That feeling in my brain was near intoxicating.

Just as Miranda was receiving the drug that would ruin her life, I just found mine.

“Shit, kid,” Terry said with a tone that bordered between impressed and horrified. He motioned for me to move away from my handiwork as he pulled his phone out. “Well, Jaime and Charles are going to get a very persuasive picture. Get him in the back while I cover it up.”

“So, we’re going to Okefenokee?” I asked as I hefted Bill’s corpse over my shoulder.

“Yep,” Terry replied as he pulled a tarp from the back to obscure their work from the world. “We’re going to chuck him in the swamp so he turns to soup. You wouldn’t believe how many people are thrown back there and how quickly their flesh dissolves.”

“My cousin told me that swamp's preserve bodies like pickled meat,” I recalled some articles that Trevor sent me a while back. “But, who knows, since he says the world's getting hotter, maybe it’ll break it down even faster in the swamp.”

“Your cousin’s a liberal,” Terry spat onto the field. “And get yourself changed, you’re fucking coated in blood.”