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La Gueule de Saturne stood in grim silence. The once-elegant restaurant now served as a stage for horror. Vincent Charbonneau was bound tightly to a long table, his white chef’s coat stained with blood and grime. His eyes, filled with a mixture of terror and sorrow, were locked on Rody Lamoree, who stood over him with a chilling, calculated intent.
Rody’s expression was devoid of empathy as he prepared his array of tools-pliers, knives, clamps, and heat sources. Each was chosen to inflict maximum pain and suffering. The gleam of the instruments was a stark contrast to Vincent’s pained and tear-filled eyes.
Rody removed Vincent’s gag with deliberate slowness, revealing Vincent’s trembling lips. His cries of agony were immediate, his voice hoarse as he pleaded. “Rody, please! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought-I thought it would show how much I care!”
Rody’s gaze was cold and unfeeling. “You think that serving me Manon’s remains was an act of love? You’ve twisted what it means to care for someone. Now, you’ll understand what real suffering feels like.”
Without hesitation, Rody picked up a pair of pliers. He gripped Vincent’s fingers, applying pressure just enough to cause excruciating pain. Vincent’s cries grew louder with each squeeze, his body writhing against the restraints. “Please, Rody!” Vincent’s voice was filled with desperation. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”
Rody’s expression remained impassive. “Love doesn’t erase what you’ve done. You think begging will change anything? This is about making you pay.”
Moving on, Rody took a sharp knife and began making shallow cuts along Vincent’s arms. Each incision was deliberate, designed to inflict pain without causing fatal injuries. Vincent’s screams filled the room, his body writhing with each cut, his blood mixing with the grime on the table.
Rody’s sadism intensified as he turned to a pair of clamps, which he attached to Vincent’s nipples. He twisted them tightly, causing Vincent’s screams to become more frantic. The clamps were a constant source of torment, and Vincent’s eyes were filled with a mix of agony and unwavering love for Rody.
Ignoring Vincent’s desperate pleas, Rody picked up a small torch. He applied the flame to Vincent’s skin, the heat causing Vincent to convulse with pain. The searing sensation was intense, but Rody’s gaze remained cold and detached as he watched Vincent suffer. “You wanted to show me your love? This is what you get for your twisted idea of affection.”
Vincent’s cries became hoarse as the torch burned his flesh. His face was a mask of agony and sorrow, tears mingling with blood and sweat. “Rody, please,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”
Rody then picked up a needle and thread, using them to stitch Vincent’s skin in painful, deliberate patterns. Each stitch drew fresh screams from Vincent’s lips, the constant pain overwhelming him. Despite his suffering, Vincent’s eyes never left Rody’s face, filled with both physical and emotional anguish.
Rody’s cruelty reached its peak when he took a heavy, blunt object and began to beat Vincent’s legs and arms. The blows were methodical, designed to bruise and batter without breaking bones. Vincent’s body shook with each impact, his screams echoing through the silent restaurant.
As Vincent’s suffering continued, his breaths became ragged and shallow. His eyes, once filled with love and regret, now reflected the horror and agony of his final moments. With a final, desperate gasp, Vincent’s breathing slowed, his body going limp on the table.
Rody watched with grim satisfaction as Vincent’s movements ceased. The satisfaction of having exacted his revenge was cold and complete. With Vincent dead, Rody’s cruel plans were far from over.
He moved swiftly to the back of the restaurant, where he gathered cans of gasoline and began dousing the elegant furnishings and décor. The flames would not just be a final act of revenge but a way to erase every trace of the nightmare that had unfolded within these walls.
Returning to the front, Rody struck a match and tossed it into the pool of gasoline. The fire ignited quickly, spreading with a fierce intensity. Flames licked at the opulent walls, consuming the restaurant in a fiery blaze. The once-celebrated establishment was now engulfed in flames, the fire roaring with a destructive force that matched the darkness of Rody’s vengeance.
As the fire roared and crackled, Rody stood amidst the inferno, watching as the restaurant burned. The flames reflected in his eyes, a final, bitter testament to the cruelty and suffering he had inflicted. The heat from the fire intensified, and the smoke began to billow out, filling the night with the scent of burning wood and destruction.
Rody took one last look at the scene of his cruel retribution, his face a mask of grim satisfaction. He had made Vincent suffer, ensured his final moments were filled with agony, and burned the restaurant to erase every trace of his revenge. With a final, contemptuous glance, Rody turned and walked away, leaving behind the smoldering ruins of La Gueule de Saturne.
The restaurant, now a charred husk, bore witness to the dark and tragic end of both Vincent and Rody’s twisted journey. The fire continued to burn, a stark reminder of the cruelty and vengeance that had consumed them both.
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