Thump. Thump. Thump.
The rhythm of the galloping horse jolted Zareth's spine and forced him from the black depths of unconsciousness. He groaned because his head throbbed with the aftereffects of the toxin. His eyelids fluttered open to reveal a world of blurred shapes and motion.
Ahead, a massive iron gate dominated his vision. It was a maw of rusted metal that groaned as it began to open.
CREAAAK!
"Open the gates!" one of the riders shouted to the sentries on the wall. "We have a gift for the Boss!"
'A gift…'
Zareth wondered where they had taken him but the darkness returned to claim him before he could formulate an answer. His head lolled back and he knew no more.
…
High above the courtyard, inside the central spire of the Blackthorn Estate, the perspective shifted.
A tall man stood before an expansive floor-to-ceiling mirror. He looked past his own reflection to watch the main gates as they slammed shut with a finality that echoed through the glass. He wore a fine velvet coat over his leather armour, but his face remained a ruin of melted flesh. A braided leather whip was wrapped intricately around his forearm like a dormant snake.
"Beltrom returned early," He thought aloud. A smirk pulled at the scar tissue on his lip. "Did something happen with the gathering mission? No matter. I will find out later."
Whimper.
A low, pathetic sound came from behind him. Something wet and hairy brushed against his leg.
He looked down. He held a thick leather leash in his grip. At the other end was the Dog-Man, the beast that had mauled Elise in the forest. The creature whined and pressed its wet nose against the glass. It licked the pane with a long, slobbering tongue.
"Tsk."
The man yanked the leash back and stroked the creature's matted fur.
"Don't worry, my pet. There will be more to hunt soon."
"Hunter!"
A choked, wet voice called out from the centre of the room. "You've outdone yourself this time."
The disfigured man turned around. The room was opulent, filled with gold leaf and velvet, but it smelled of roasted meat and stale sweat.
A man sat upon a reinforced sofa that groaned under his immense weight. He was morbidly obese. His belly cascaded over his belt and reached his ankles like a landslide of pale dough. Grease poured from his pores and slicked his forehead. He wore a formal dark suit, but it was comically tight; the buttons strained and threatened to burst free with every breath he took. A gold monocle was pinched over his left eye.
But the true horror was what he held.
One of his massive, ham-like arms held a woman dangling in the air by her waist. It was Sarah. Her sister, Elise, was gripped tightly against his side by his other arm. Both women looked broken, their eyes vacant with terror.
"These beauties are delicious."
The fat man licked his lips with a tongue coated in oil.
Hunter bowed slightly but kept his eyes cold. "I told you, Lord Blackthorn. I only deliver the best of the best. Though these strays tried to flee, I've whipped them into shape for you."
Lord Blackthorn brought Sarah closer to his monocle. He inspected her like a butcher inspecting a cut of prime beef.
"Good. Good," he wheezed. "These girls will satisfy my afternoon appetite. This one…" He squeezed Elise, who let out a sharp gasp of pain. "She is spunky. She has curves on her."
Slurp.
He licked his lips again.
"Enjoy them, my Lord," Hunter said smoothly. "But remember not to break them when you are done. Lord Vanderznak won't be pleased if his test subjects are damaged beyond repair."
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.
"Vanderznak?"
Lord Blackthorn's face turned a shade of purple that clashed with his suit. He expressed his displeasure with a roar.
"Gah!"
He roughly dropped Sarah onto his jiggling belly.
Oof!
She bounced on the mass of flesh and scrambled to find purchase, but he pinned her down with a heavy hand.
"I am Carl Blackthorn!" he spat. Saliva and crumbs flew across the room. "I am the Supreme Lord of the Blackthorn Estate! Everything here belongs to me. All objects. All subjects."
He glared at Hunter with his good eye.
"That little punk Vanderznak is only a crazy scientist! I extended my generosity to him. I allowed him to carry out his experiments here. If not for my protection, the Convent would have had his head by now!"
Carl squeezed the women until they cried out in unison.
"If I want to break these toys to my liking, then I shall! All of you serve me! Don't get carried away! Do you hear me, you dogs?"
The Dog-Man whimpered and hid behind Hunter's legs.
Hunter lowered his head in a gesture of submission. "My deepest apologies, Lord Blackthorn. I spoke out of turn."
Internally, however, Hunter's thoughts were venomous.
'This fat kark… he doesn't even know who is really running the show. He thinks he is a king, but he is just a pig in a suit. For the time being, he is still useful as a front, so I will let this insult slide.'
Hunter stepped back toward the heavy oak doors. "I will leave you to your… meal. I have other matters to attend to."
"Wait!" Carl yelled just as Hunter reached the handle. "Relay a message to the chef! Tell him to bring more sauce! The barbeque sauce! And make it spicy!"
Hunter waved his hand nonchalantly without turning back. "As you wish."
Click.
The door closed, shutting out the sight of the gluttonous lord and his weeping captives.
Hunter walked down the silent corridor. His composure cracked. He gripped the right side of his disfigured face and clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.
'Just you wait. Your time is coming, pig.'
He marched toward the dungeons.