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May 16, 2005

The Eschatologist: Losing Track

"Christ, man, you can let go now," pleaded Oscar.

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not done yet. If this is going to be done, I'm going to do it, and I'm goddamn well going to do it right, now let me finish." Dizzy heard the cord snap and tendons give way under the garrote as cleanly as anytime he'd performed the final excruciation. One final jerk of the polymer cable, and he let the body slip to the floor, still twitching reflexively.

"You can tell them it's done." Dizzy knelt down and closed his brothers eyes and kissed his forehead.

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