The Therteenth Child

Gwharr carefully put his hand on the man's shoulder and gave him what seemed to be a light slap over the head, but in actually was just about powerfull enough to knock him unconscious for a some time. He would wake up soon enough, be a bit groggy but no worse for wear, ready to run away and never come back. Unlike earlier, there was no malice or overtheatrical bestiality in his blow, just effectiveness. After all, the time of theatrics was past, and the hunt had once again resumed. the caveman smiled slightly mishceviously towards his grim, stoic partner. "To have fun. To like pretend-like to eat." He chuckled as he started to move forwards, carefully removing the table blocking the exit they where going through, rendering the door accessible, at wich point he felt the door, realized it was locked, and then carefully proceeded to punch it with enough force to split it down the middle. If someone was nearby they had probably heard the gunshots anyway.

"To remind I of time in forest. Much pretend-like stuff in forest. Fun!" he said, a rather warm smile appearing appearing on the cavemans smile as he remembering all the fun he had been having back in the redwoods, when the silly humans came around. He had enjoyed that portion of his stay on this continent immensly and had built up quite a reputation. At some point he might return there and keep pretending, just ot make sure they did not forget about him. a small chortle escaped from his lips as he contnued through the newly opened doorway

The corridor was dark, but Gwharrs eyes where just about sharp enough to see the outline of shapes in the corridors and to avoid walking into a wall or hitting his head on a pipe as he knuckled forwards through the corridors. He had been here before at some point, although it was long ago. He didn't quite like these parts of his little "kingdom" since they where too close to the sewers.

Red was impressed. Gwharr was strong enough to knock out a man with a single slap of his hand. He listened to the large caveman as he described his enjoyment of this little theatrics. To say that Red didn't enjoy it as well would be a big lie. He looked over at the passage way that lead into the dark tunnels. The smell of sewage was present, something he failed to notice before. He walked after Gwharr toward the door. The smell was strongere there.

"Alright listen. This whole case seems to be a bit more complicated then I originally thought. It's obvious that we aren't dealing with an everyday pedophile" Red spat the word like it was poison "In my experience, clues like this always lead to people in high places. People who appear innocent in the public's eye".

Red didn't care if what he said was a bit too complected for the caveman. Gwharr had shown great understanding so far. Red had to see how far can said understanding go. It was, after all, one of his more stranger habits. Psychoanalyzing every one who gets close to him then he normal lets them.

The pair ventured deeper into the tunnels and it did not take long for Gwharrs rather keen sense of smell to realize they had once again ventured into the caverns of filth. Apparantly the world-of-lights up above transported their filt into these tunnels somehow, in a manner that Gwharr did not quite understand, but nevertheless could utilize when up on the surface. He actually thought it was a rather nifty way to keep the filth out of ones dwelling, but he did not quite approve of the fact that someone had decided that all the filth should end up down here "Filth-caves. Stench of topside." Gwharr muttered, more to himself than to the Red Hunter, following the short statement with a derisive snort to show that he was displeased with the whole arrangement, especially since he litterally had gotten the crappy end of the bargain.

He looked at red, raising one of his eyebrows as he started speaking about the man being a some sort of file and whatnot. He assumed that they had hit some sort of snag, and was rather unsure about what it meant. And the words that followed did not make more sense. People in high places? Did he mean people living their lives up in the big man-made mountains that stretched up even above the clouds? No, height was not a problem for the Red Hunter. He would scale the man-made mountains to get his quarry. No, this was obviously one of those world-of-light things. One of these unpleasant new things that had cropped up when he was buried beneath the molten rock on that island apparantly named "island"

He snorted derisively once again, his fist hitting the wall, seemingly in an agressive gesture brought on by the words of red hunter. His good mood had almost dissapeared completely when the mention of what he called 'The world of lights' and how things where working up there

"To not understand. Red come from different world than Gwharr, a world I do not wish to know. To not like world of Red. To think World of all new man-things wrong.!" The primitive man spoke, shaking his head decisively. He believed he had made his point.

Gwharrs frown turned into a grin. "To hunt high-place man is to hunt bird. Use rock to bring down, then eat!" he said, giving his temporary ally an affectionate pat on the shoulder, mostly to show that he was not the type that got nervous when it came to scaling "high places"

Red couldn't help but admire the enthusiasm of his savage companion. He might have not fully understood what Red was talking about but that didn't seem to dampen his will to fight. And that is what Red liked in him. Gwharr was solid and uncompromising. He wasn't going to sacrifice his methods under any circumstances. Just like Red wouldn't.

"What I meant by 'high places' was people that are very high on the food chain of society. The ether own a lot of land or even people or have a lot of trading material. You know about trade don't you?" said Red, trying his best to keep his point simple for the caveman.

Gwharr listened to what the Red Hunter said, nodding to show that he had listened. Yes he knew trade, and he understood it in small scale. You give someone something he wants and he gives you something you want. very easy, very correct. It was when they started involving more people in the equation it got difficult. He could understand the concept of a supermarket, but when people started talking about buisness-"chains" our cave dwelling hero was lost. He had figured it was not an actual, physical chain, but some sort of metaphor. He didn't like the kind of metaphors that was hard to understand. Buisness-chains were yet another thing he had classified as evil since they belonged to the modern world. A world he hoped would collapse soon enough. Maybe then things would return to how they where, how the SHOULD be!

Gwharr nodded. He understood. Their quarry seemed to be a chief, or whatever these light-worlders would call an important man. But that was not all, he was both very dangerous and presumably very important. He had understood that much from the hesitance of the minion to reveal his name, despite the threats of death and cannibalization that had been brought forward. His answer was still the same. He would not allow someone that hurt children to continue doing so without interference, and he had no fear of the high people in the "World of Lights" up above. They should be fearing him! Gwharr once again grinned and shrugged,

"Evil man is Chief?" Gwharr asked, seemingly indifferent to the increase in difficulty this could give their mission. The caveman once again patted the Red hunter's shoulder affectionately, using the same method as before to show he was still on board, despite these troubling news "To kill chief is like killing tortoise. smash through hard shield, then feast on soft flesh!" he said, the grin never leaving his ugly, broad mouth. In fact, he was rather looking forward to bringing down this topside chief.

"That's right"

Red wasn't all to happy about the situation. The last time he went up against an important person with great influence was hard and exhausting. He had to go through levels upon levels of criminals, big and small time; corrupt city officials and policemen. In the end, Red emerged victorious but the strain was almost to great. He barely got out of it alive and his resources were almost depleted. He would have given up on ever putting on his hunting gear again if it wasn't for an event that took place just a few days before he went in for the kill. An event that broadened his mind and pulled him away from selfish vengeance and gave him hope for justice. That's why he didn't kill the 'man on top', as he called him. Instead Red exposed him for the cropped and wicked man he really was and humiliated him.

Red snapped himself back to here and now. Every time he would think about something in a calm situation like this, his mind would wonder of to that man. The man who ruined his life. Even now Red questioned his own actions and decisions.

Red looked up at his ancient comrade and gestured toward the dark passageway "Let's go" he said. From a pouch on his belt, Red pulled out a flash light and turned it on. He wanted to use night-vision. After all, both of his hands would be free then. But he had company and judging from the darkness in front of them Gwharr would have difficulty to see. Red stepped into the tunnel and immediately the raw stench of sewage struck his nostrils. He flicked the switch on his mouth piece and the respiration function was turned on. Red's breath was now a bit more heavy.

Gwharr grinned even wider as The Red Hunter quickly indicated that he had been correct in his assumption that hunting important people was like killing tortoises, except that the important people had several lines of defense, aka Several shells, and the shells also seemed to consiste mostly out of minions, rather than the bone that proper tortoises and also, they fought back, once again very different from the shell of an ordinary tortoise who was pretty more akin to a wall rather than a line of murderous morons armed with deathsticks and whatnot. In truth, the similiarity about hunting members pearched on a highly placed peak in the society of the accursed "World of lights" and Killing sweet, innocent (But tasty) Tortoises seemed to get thinner and thinner by the second, although Gwharr was certainly not going to enlighten the Red Hunter of this by telling him of his realization.

These days it was very rare for people to think of him as being intelligent or clever, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to ruin his little similie by blurting out that he was wrong. Although, luckily for him, the man seemed to dwell on other things, rather than his failure of a metaphor. Apparantly he had alot on his mind at the moment, wich wasn't all that strange considering that he was the brains of their little outfit and thus the one that had to figure out how to find the evil guy they where looking for. Gwharr couldn't help him there, since his knowledge of the "World of Lights" was basically just loose fragments and a swirling chaos of strangeness. Heck, he had learned to do his best to avoid learning about it, since he didn't like it, and he figured it'd end eventually anyways, returning things to an existance more similar to that he had enjoyed earlier.

Gwharr grunted as the smell grew stronger. He didn't like these parts of his kingdom, and rarely ventured here, except when it was nessecary for some reason, or he had gotten really, REALLY bored. He quickly leapt up into the roof, climbing along the pipes, just as fast as he had been walking, presumably to avoid stepping in something unpleasant. He figured there where lots of unpleasantness i the floor of this particurlar tunnel due to the rather strong, horrible odor of fecal-matter and decay.

Red lead Gwharr down the almost pitch black tunnel. There was a sharp turn at the end and Red knew that the little light they had from the chamber they came through would be entirely gone. As he approached the corner of the tunnel Red could swear that the sound of running water could be heard faintly. The sewers, of course. There must be a man hole or a shattered wall around here some where. Red shone the flashlight around the corner and saw a dead end. Several abandoned rusty, demolished lockers leaned against the left wall, their paint long dried off and gone. There was a small cracked light bulb on the sealing as well. This small pl;ace might have bin used by subway workers before it was abandoned. The walls were old to say the least. The cement layer was cracked and scattered in pieces on the floor to revile brownish-red bricks beneath. This whole part of the tunnel seemed more dank then the rest of the tunnels Red had passed this day.

Red approached the wall that blocked there path. He ran a hand over it's rough, decaying surface and leaned the side of his head against it. He was correct. The sound of water was much stronger on the other side of the wall. There must have bin some secret passage or a hidden leaver, but Red didn't have time or patients to find either. Enough time has bin lost in the meth lab. But there was another way. He tapped the wall a bit with his knuckle. The wall was very old it was like tapping a watermelon. Gwharr's great strength would have no problem making a passage of there own.He stepped aside, away from the wall and leaned against one of the old lockers. He turned to Gwharr and gestured theatrically toward the wall.

"Gwharr, my friend. Would you do the honors?"

Gwharr quizzically raised one of his massive eyebrows when His current companion the red hunter surprisingly started to muck about in the tunnel, apparantly looking for something. He didn't say anything though, since he assumed that the hunter knew what he was doing. After all, he seemed like the type that liked to think about things before attempting to acomplish them. Gwharr could see the advantage in thinking at things, but that sort of life did not appeal to him. He was far too restless to sit still and think for long, and preffered to launch himself at a problem with reckless abandon, and more often than not clenched fists and a rather open mind when it came to inflicting damage upon someone elses property as well as a rather lenient attitude towards the eventual physical injuries that might accidentally be inflicted upon his fellow man.

However, if The Hunter preffered to take the boring route, he wouldn't stop him. After all, he grudgingly had to admit that although his methods where usually far more entertaining, Red Hunters method usually brought better results when used. And right now it seemed like Ol' Red had taken commando. Or rather, he had been allowed to do so with kind permission of Gwharr, the King of the caves below the "World of Lights", since Gwharr was (in his own mind at least) amongst the most alpha of all alpha males of the world in general and his own little self-styled kingdom in particurlar.

Good old red seemed to have finished strutting about, using his brain to solve the problem in quite an ( in Gwharrs mind at least) unmanly fashion, rather than using Gwharrs favourable method of 'shouting loudly whilst hitting things untill everything turned out the way he liked' and was now beckoning for him to come help him with some little problem or other. Our caveman gracefully dropped from his rather comfortable position, where he had been hanging on to a particuralrly warm and cozy pipe, landing on the floor with a heavy thud, and started to slovenly knucklewalking over to where Red was indicating.

When Red explained to him what he wanted done Gwharrs rather bored facial expression lightened up and once again turned into a happy, somewhat childish grin of mischief that was particurlarly unsuitable to a creature over twenty millenia old. Gwharr experimentally gave the wall a slight tap with his knuckle, causing a few chunks of deteriorated plaster to fall out of it and hit the floor, and then proceeded to simply leap through the ball, utilizing a move that could best be described combining the movement of a shoulder-tackle to the effect of a wrecking-ball, causing a rather massive hole to be opened up into the sewer-pipe. On the other side, Gwharr once again leapt up into the roof to avoid the filthy sewer-floor, grabbed a hold of a pipe and waited for his companion to lead the way. It was apparant that Red Hunter knew more about where this foe of theirs was hidden than Gwharr himself did.

"Thank you very much"

Red walked into the sewer, still sporting the flashlight. He reached into a hidden pocket on his back and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and shewn the flashlight onto it.

"If these old blueprints are accurate, left is a long, rather straight way that leads to the end of the sewer and the Hudson river, while right leads to a series of old catacombs aka "The tombs of New York City". The tombs must be the place where that sick freak took those children. Right it is then" while thinking Red looked around the sewer the came into.

Not only was no one there but it seemed like the place hadn't seen soul and very long time. He cycled through his vision modes just to be sure. No trace of human life. Just a stray rat here and there and a large number of cockroaches that scattered into the darkness whenever Red pointed the light at them. That was both good and bad. Good because he wouldn't have to waist energy in more pointless fighting. Bad because it might mean that the place truly was abandoned, that man he was hunting had already left and the cold and moistness of the sewer took care of any tracks. He'll soon enough when they reach the tombs.

Red looked up "You can come down. There's no one here" he said to Gwharr.

The rather sorry excuse for a wall collapsed in a stupid pile of ground-up concrete and plaster, just like Gwharr had predicted. However, he used almost a little to much force, and had to do his best to prevent himself from setting foot in the "Mud" that covered the floor of the next room. However, Gwharr soon realized that this was not any old mud. These parts of the sewers seemed to be pretty much all but out of use, since there was barely a trickle of spillwater in here, even though the rain was literally pouring down outside. Not to mention the general disrepair of the tunnels themselves. the walls where cracked and overgrown with molds and at particurlarly gross places the occasional tiny mushroom could be seen sprouting out o the filth-encrusted grounds fertile "soil" Apparantly there was something clogging this tunnel down the way somewhere, since the little water that found its way here seemed to stagnate, rather than flow on, contributing additionally to the perviously mentioned stench.

The horrible, fecal stench that Gwharr had picked up on earlier definately had their origin in these rather moist, cold, deceptively labyrinth-like tunnels. Thanks to the light beaming out of the the strange contraption that red had thoughfully brought with him, he could actually see how horribly filthy the floor and lower portions of of this tunnel was. Our beloved caveman was no prude, no sir. He was the sort of man's man that considered showers to be something that happened to other people, prefferably far, far away so that Gwharr did not catch whatever it was that had infected their brains and made them think that pouring water on oneself was a good idea in the first place. However, literally wandering through a horrid sludge consisting of decades worth of shit and piss was pretty disgusting even by his cave-man standards. He effortlessly leapt up on the roof, grabbing ahold of the pipes running along the roof and walls, so that he may utilize them for movement. he could probably climb just as fast as he could run, maybe even slightly faster, so when Red Hunter suggested he come down to join him on the stink, stinky floor of disgust, Gwharr shook his head vigorously. After all, he was currently at the most advantagous position in the entire tunnel.

To no have footwear. Filthy-filthy Gwharr explained, adding the extra filthy for emphaphis, trying to make the bold hero understand how icky he thought it was. Besides, red had that fancy suit of his, whilst poor old Gwharr was barefoot. Something that usually did not bother him, since his feet where pretty much bullet-proof and so tough that he could even walk over red hot coals and broken glass and not even notice it. Besides, he actually preffered to be barefoot, as he found shoes confining. He liked to be able to wriggle his toes about when he wanted too. He also had retained a bit of that neat manual dexterity in his feet that most hominids had lost when they went from ape to man, and so he could utilize his feet to carry things whilst using his arms for transportation.

He followed the Hunter into the labyrinth, ready to face off against any and all monstrosities that may appear. He may be a caveman painfully unschooled in the ways of the modern world, but he had spent enough time down here in the "caves" below the city to learn that the "urban legend" about the sewer-dwelling crocodiles where not an urban legend. They were quite real, and they were quite dangerous. Fortunately, they were quite rare as well, so they probably did not have too much to worry about, but it didn't hurt to keep your eyes peeled.

If Red was correct, the catacombs linked all of the city's churches, used to bury or sometimes transport the dead. After being put out of commission, the old tunnels fell into disrepair and decay. But that didn't stop people from using the vast tunnels and chambers the catacombs offered. Only this time, they were used for other things and not for burring the dead.Judging that they were close to the Hudson river, Red was fairly certain that the tombs there were heading to would be right beneath the Church of St. Luke in the Fields, in the very heart of New York City.

Red walked down the concrete walkway that was built on both sides of the filth-covered canal in the center of the sewer. There were a few dead rats on it sure, but nothing like the gathered refuse of the city in the canal. Even though the tunnel was evidently abandoned, there were signs that indicated that there was activity in that dark dank place. Red scanned the path he walked upon with the flashlight and saw something. Something that reflected the his light. Red quickened his pace toward the object. He reached down with his gloved hand and picked up the object. It was a rusty, cobwebby, dusty bullet shell. Judging by it's overall look, the shot was fired at least three to four weeks ago. This only confirmed Red's thoughts on the tunnels. They had a very colorfully history.

Red looked up to see if his companion was keeping up.

Gwharr had no trouble whatsoever keeping up with his companion as he wentured forth in the tunnel. After all, thanks to his long arms, superhuman strength as well as the fact that his manual dexterity and motor-skills where greater than most modern humans climbing was a s easy as walking was for regular people. A rather grand advantage when you wanted to traverse the topside or "City of Lights" as he called it and wanted to avoid bumping into everyone and their grandmother whilst you are on your merry way to eat an innocent dog or three. For some reason people tended to be upset if they bumped into a seven foot five, half-a-ton heavy caveman in the middle of the street, regardless of wether they had a dog he had just eaten or not. No, Gwharr definately prepared to leap from roof to roof whenever he had to be topside for long. That way he could enjoy the sun, and get a birds-eye vbiew of the entire city, seeing what was going on. Plus the wee people down there usually ahd no idea what was happening above their heads. They just kept their head down and did whatever it was that people who lived in that accursed city liked doing.

He noticed that red checked that he was able to keep up occasionally, and even though it was a little insulting that he thought that Gwharr could not keep up with his rather slow ambulation on the walkway, it was also rather decent of him to make sure that he managed to keep up. It was the proper way to act when you ran in a pack together, hunting for prey. All must do their part, and nobody was to be left behind if it could be avoided. If you ran in a pack with someone, you had to trust them, and they had to trust you, otherwise you could not aid eachother in the hunt as a pack is supposed to do, but rather you would only increase the risk of failure. Wether that sabotage was intentional or not was not important.

As they trudged on, The Red Hunter suddenly stopped, kneeling down and picking up a small metal casing from the ground. Gwharr had also noticed it, and considered it to be somewhat out of place down in these tunnels of filth and sewage. He recognized it as the sort of thing left behind when someone fired one of the death-sticks. He had no idea how or why it worked, but he knew what it meant. It meant that someone had shot one of the death-sticks down here, presumably because there was something that needed to be shot for some reason or other. Probably a clue, Indicating. . . something. whimpred in frustration. This sort of thing got on his nerves, so he might as well leave it to his companion.

He grabbed the pipe with his feet rather than with his hands and hung upside down, mostly to get a better look at the shell, in case there was something interesting he had missed, and partly because he did not want Red to think he was slacking off. Even if he didn't like the whole clues and things, he could at least pretend to pay an interest. Besides, There was something else there. . . something he did not see untill he got closer to the ground. . .

He grunted loudly to catch Reds attention, pointing down to the walkway where the bullet had been lying. There was some sewage that had splashed up on the walkway, and it was dried out, so it meant it was rather old, but it also indicated that someone had fallen or been pushed off the walkway, presumably somehow in conjunction with the bullet-casing.

"To see splash. Water still, but dried sludge on walkway. Means someone fell in. That clue?" Gwharr said, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words. The language of the thinlings was difficult, and the more exciting things where the more difficult it became to properly translate your thoughts into their language in a way that could be understood.

Red looked in the direction Gwharr was pointing. Indeed there was splattered sludge on the walkway. It reminded Red of the low concrete docks that were covered in a lot of mud and sand brought upon by the waves of the sea. Red approached the spot and peered down into the canal.

"Humh!" Red shewn the light into the canal. His brow creased. A rotting, excrement-covered, skeletal remains, still clutching a rusty old Uzi in it's bony hand, stared up back at him. There was gaping hole in the middle of it's forehead.

Red looked at the shell still in his hand. No, the whole was to big. It was probably caused by a rifle, while the shell seemed to belong to 9mm handgun. It didn't matter though. All this just proved that there were, or still are, people here who don't want to be discovered.

Red turned to Gwharr "You've got a good eye. Thanks" then he turned toward the darkness that was the sewer tunnel "let's keep moving".

Red didn't want to dillydally. After all the thirteenth child wasn't going to wait.

He walked with a quickened pace down the walk way and as he went deeper into the sewer the more bodies he saw. Some were so old that all the flesh and skin had decomposed, leaving only dried up bone behind. Others were relatively fresh with flies still circling them. Some had firearms, other had steel pipes and similar blunt weapons. The people Red and Gwharr were looking for really wanted to cover there tracks.

Gwharr noticed that the hunter saw looked at something in the water, and when the flashlight hit the sad pile of rotted, filth-encrusted bones Gwhar's blue orbs managed to locate them too. He let out a soft, nigh unhearable whimper, but soon he realized it was not what he thought it had been. Gwharr had immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was the fabled "thirteenth child" that had been kidnapped earlier. The very child they where her to save and/or avenge depending on wether the pair where too late or not. However, he now realized that the skeleton was too large to be that of a child. It was not as large as a full-sized human, so it might even be a smallish man, but more likely was that it had been someone in their late teens. Presumable a gang-member or something. Also, the oddly shaped bangstick that the sorry pile of forgotten bones was clutching also didn't fit the profile. Why would a child that had just been kidnapped wield an oddly shaped bangstick? It did not make sense.

"To think it was child, but to see one was mistaken." Gwharr said, his inhumanly deep, booming voice sounding somewhat relieved, as his eyes finally left the bony remains of some unknown, but unimportant individual that had seemingly lost his life down in these tunnels of shit, beneath the bright, shiny almost magical "utopia" with its rules that the topsiders clung to with all of their strength. Their rules and the fact that only ones lower in the hiearchy followed them rigorously was what allowed people like their quarry to survive in thrive in such an enviroment. In the olden days, when he had been born, they would have gotten rid of a tyrannical, evil leader like that by expelling him from the tribe, but here you could not do that, because nobody knew what anyone else truly did.

Red did not dwell on the corpse for very long, and halready started to move on. Gwharr arched his back upwards, grabbing ahold of the pipes with his long arms, letting go of the grip of his feet, and followed slightly behind his companion as they kept moving forwards through the tunnels, climbing and walking respectively Gwharr snorted when he noticed more of the floating corpses when they ambled on. Apprantly something had happened here. Something nasty, but at least they indicated that the pair was heading in the right direction. "More dead men in the water." Gwharr said, motioning out towards the water with a massive, trashcansized and fur-covered hand. "Dumping grounds?" He asked as they moved on, his voice a low, hoarse whisper to prevent the tunnels to carry its echo too far.

"Maybe" said Red as he looked closely at the bodies lying in the canal or even on the walk way.

He grinned. Back when they spotted the first corpse, Gwhar had expressed genuine concern for child number thirteen. That clearly meant that, in the end, he and Red were after the same thing. The rescue of the thirteenth child.

Then Red noticed something as he paid attention to every detail of the corpses now. The only body that had a distinguishable bullet wound was the remains of the Uzi caring gang member. All those other bodies showed signs of torture. There were strangle neck marks, knife and/or hatchet wounds, limbs cleanly cut off, ribs torn... There were even clear signs of rape and other forms of sexual abuse.

"Yeah... Maybe".

The first thought that came to mind was "The city's underworld's dumping ground". That looked like the solution but Red knew better. Why would a dumping ground like that be so close to an active meth-lab. Also, if this was the dumping ground used by the city's criminals then there would a lot more bodies here. Plus, there wasn't a lot of water here so a number of remains being washed away couldn't have bin the case. Suddenly realization dawned. Most of the bodies had one thing in common. Every man, woman and child that lay dead in this forgotten place had distinct marks of sexual abuse on them. Combined with the surprisingly precise laceration and dismemberment of the carcases and almost similar neck marks on all the bodies with the abuse marks....

"Dear lord!"

Red wasn't a very religious man. In fact he lost his faith quite a long time ago. But the realization that struck him was so disturbing and shocking that the phrase slipped out. Snuff films! There was no doubt about it. This was the dumping ground of a snuff film ring.For a moment Red nearly staggered as he walked.