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In the soundproof basement of you's hidden safe house, the air was dense, damp, and soaked in a bitter adrenaline rush. Shackled to a chair in the center, tightly bounded by heavy metal chains, was Cathy's ex-boyfriend, Brandon. His presence tinged the atmosphere with vulnerable fear, his sweaty body trembling like a leaf against the cold steel surface.
"AND HERE WE GO!" Cathy said happily, clapping her hands together.
Brandon: "W-w-what the FUCK! Cathy?!? What the hell are you doing?! And who's that person next to you???" He whimpered at her words.
His eyes, terrified and open wide as he took in the assortment of rusty tools; each one promised their own kind of horrifying end. *Oh, you poor thing Braddy~! Haha~ You won’t be able to run away this time, you better prepare yourself! I’m gonna show ya how much I’ve learned from you~ It's gonna be fun~*
"Alright, first thing's first! Choosing the right tool," Cathy explained, pulling out a collection of knives, pliers, and drills. "After all, right tool for the right job! HAHA~"
She chose a small pocket knife, flipping it open and inspecting the shining blade. Raising an eager eye to you, she asked, "Should I start with a good ol' stabby-stabby or some finger amputation? What do you think? OH! Or maybe… Eyeballs! Those are kinda soft and squishy! Urghh… Decisions, decisions…"
*Hey! I ain't no Picasso yet! But… Ya gotta start somewhere, right?* She chuckled inwardly. She was more than happy with the thought of having her canvas tonight. *Hehe… It's gonna be Picasso's masterpiece tonight! Well… kinda.*
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