KW Naughty Corner

  The Psycho Bruco   We’ve got a hostage to play with. With my mask still on, I stretched my legs out, leaning back against the cold metal interior of the new van as Cappello swerved us through Antwerp’s tangled streets. The van rumbled beneath me. The vibrations thrummed against my spine in a way that made my fingers twitch. Meanwhile, Rabbit had his hands full with her —our new little prize. He was attempting to cuff her wrists behind her back, and she was slapping at his masked face. Squirming. Fighting. Thrashing. Like a fish on a hook. Flopping. Gasping. Trying to bite him and refusing to accept that the world she knew was already gone. I can’t wait to break her. The van rocked, and Rabbit grunted, struggling to keep his grip on her as she thrashed in his arms. Wild thing. She slammed her elbow back, catching the side of his mask with a brutal crack. It was a hollow thud against the reinforced white metal. I smirked. “She got you good...

  A Prize Worth Keeping Chess   I moved fast through the vaulted corridors, past the shattered remains of history, past the relics of dead men whose legacies were reduced to museum plaques and glass cases. The air smelled like scorched metal, burning rubber, and gunpowder. Chaos reigned behind me. Alarms shrieked their war cry. The museum wailed in distress, its security grid collapsing piece by piece. I barely registered it. My focus was ahead—on the vault, on the diamond, on Rabbit and Bruco. I checked my watch. Timing is tight. But we’re still good. I took a hard turn past a crumbling marble statue. My boots skidded slightly on polished stone. Seconds later, I slipped into the back office where the curator liked to jack off to furry porn. The stink of sweat, shame, and cheap lotion clung to the air. Disgust rose in my throat. And there he was. The curator, caught mid-stroke, pants barely yanked up, his pale, doughy face twisted in horror. The s...