"That sick bastard," Gary breathed.
The voice continued to narrate..."This little bitch was one of your spies," the young man said, "I just wanted you to get a good look at what we do with spies... Ron?"
The camera swung back to the right, and dropped lower to where the young dark haired man was now seated in front of a dual screened computer. One screen was blank, and the other was flashing on and off, but Frank could not make out what the words on the screen said. "Can any of you read that?" Frank asked, his voice tinged with panic. He had a pretty good idea what the screen said, but wanted to hear it from someone else.
"Can't make it out," Gary said.
"It'll be clear in a second," Ira responded, turning his attention back to the monitor. Frank noticed there was a rock hard set to Ira's jaw. He looks angry, Frank realized. Frank turned back to the small television set.
"Now," the young man continued, "let’s get a couple of things straight, shall we?" his face took on a grim look as he spoke, but the smile seemed to still be twitching at the corners of his mouth. "First thing is this, by my order you are to turn over the following individuals to my people on the north side of Rochester." He paused, and then began to read from a list.
"Ira Pratt, wanted for being a no good bastard, who has been spreading lies about me," the young mans’ face became serious as he spoke, and he looked up at the camera. "He is wanted dead or alive, and of course we will offer a reward. Next, Franklin Wilton Morgan, oh this guy is a real snake, a real low life," he stared into the camera, "a real chicken-shit bastard too, no balls at all, just turn him over to me folks, and of course there will be a reward."
Franks face was going pale as he watched.
"Next," the dark haired young man said, "is a real crafty old fuck. Gary Jones. Jones?" he said, raising his eyebrows, "sounds like an alias to me. This old bastard thinks he can figure all of this out," the young man grinned into the camera, "I want this one alive," he said, as he licked his lips. "Next, James Johnson. A cop friends and neighbors, a fucking cop! And he's been lying to you. No reward, dead or alive I don't care. Now lastly," he pretended to squint as he read from the paper. "Oh yes, Annie Davidson, now this little bitch, I want her bad. I intend to hang her right up on the wall next to that other little bitch."
Franks face flushed red. "That son-of-a-bitch," he said through clenched teeth.
The young man smiled from the television. "That piss you off, Frank?" he asked.
Frank drew in a quick breath. "How the hell..."
"Oh yes, I know about you two," the young man said, as if he could hear Frank, and even read his mind. "You think you had her first, Frank? You, my friend, are sadly mistaken," the camera swung down as the young man grabbed his crotch, "she munched this a few times, let me tell you."
Frank let out a wordless roar and lunged for the television.
"Frank, it ain't real!" Ira yelled, as he restrained him, "it's what he wants you to do."
"I'll show that bastard what I want to do," Frank said, as he struggled in Ira's grip. Ira held him fast, as Jimmy reached over and paused the recording.
"It don't matter, Frank," Ira continued. "Frank, look at me," he waited until Frank looked into his eyes. He could see the anger, and he understood it. "Frank, it's what he wants, he can't touch her, he can't touch any of us, believe me, Frank, I ain't lying to you."
Frank calmed down, but the anger stayed in his eyes. "I swear Ira, if I get my hands on him..."
"Watch the rest of the recording, Frank, we got other considerations, it gets worse." Frank nodded his head curtly, and turned his attention back to the television, as Jimmy punched the play button.
"...right on the wall," the young man was saying. The camera swung back to the wall, once again showing the young girl.
She can't be more than eighteen, Gary thought.
The camera moved back to the young man.
"Now, new business. I think it only reasonable that since I know your names, you should know mine. My name is Luther, only Luther. No middle initial, no last name, and that is what you'll call me when you bow down and worship me... You see, I am your God now. Me, I am that I am," his grin became horrific as he spoke revealing sharp rows of yellowed teeth.
"Bastard believes it too," Jimmy said, staring at the television screen.
"We do have some other problems to resolve," Luther continued. "I don't mind if you insist on praying to that other God, at least for now, but once I kill that other God, and I will, you can bet your ass I will, I will be your only God. No others before me at all... I will not allow it," his grin disappeared and a grim mask of determination now rode his face. "Which brings me to the end of this little pep talk, Ron?" the camera zoomed in on the flashing letters on the screen.
ARMED!...ARMED!...ARMED!...
"Shit," Frank muttered, "the bastard's gonna do it." Jimmy looked at him sharply, as did Ira, but neither man spoke.
"Yes, it is what it appears to be folks," Luther assured them, "and, sad to say, one of your own has known all along, yet didn't
