Free Music City Macabre: The Low Lying Lands Saga: Vol. 1 by Bob Williams Page B

This is important, you jackals. The 88 Demons of Hell are a cabal of badass demons that desired more than anything to bring about the destruction of mankind. Our god, Chaos, pulled it off! And you helped! Give yourselves a hand! You should be proud.
    So, don’t EVER forget. I’m not fucking kidding around here. You ungrateful bastards. I should cut every one of your worthless heads off and start over. You ungrateful turds. You think all of this is free? You think you can just come in here and do whatever the hell you want without consequence? There are rules. They are followed. If you don’t follow my rules, the rules set forth by Chaos, our Master, whom we ALL serve without question, you will be punished. Severely. Do you understand?”
    The crowd roared, “YES, KADE!”
    “Yes. You are Freaks. I don’t give a flying fuck if you like that name or not. I don’t. I don’t give a shit. But you. You were made this way because Chaos has willed you to serve him through me. So y’all should care! You should be proud. You should own it. YES! You should! When you feed, own it! When you kill, own it! When you rape, own it! When you break, own it! When you do everything within your grasp to bring misery, death, destruction, violence, and darkness to this cesspit of a world...You. Fucking. OWN IT!”
    Kade would never admit it, of course—if he did, he’d kill the person he told—but he had just made that shit up right there on the spot. That’s just how totally amazing he was. The Freaks were losing their minds out there. He could see the look of mild concern on Ortiz’s face. There were times, on occasion, when Ortiz was a pussy and would advise Kade to not get them so riled up. He worried there would come a day when they couldn’t control them. It wasn’t about control. It was about the collective mentality. As long as he was around he would never lose control. Anyway, it was time for the evening’s entertainment.
    Kade gestured, his thumb crossing his throat, to tell the Freaks that it was time for all of them to shut up. “Ortiz, good man, is the table ready?” Kade turned and saw the table waiting in its normal place, a black velvet sheet covering up the contents beneath.
    “Yes Kade! All of your favorites are there and awaiting your selection,” said Ortiz joyfully.
    “Well then. Let’s get this party started! Queue the music!” Social Distortion blared to life over the speakers singing the Johnny Cash classic, “Ring of Fire”, as three Regulars were led onto the stage. Each prisoner had a burlap sack over their head, and their hands tied tight with rope. They all appeared disheveled, and their body language showed fear. Most definitely fear.
    “Ok, ok… I said shut the fuck up! Trying to talk here, you crazy buttholes. Listen up. This could happen to you.” Kade turned to the prisoner closest to him, grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the front of the stage. The Freaks chanted, “WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD!” Kade threw a vicious head butt, dropping the man instantly to the ground. “Get up,” said Kade. Get…up!” The man was on his knees with his face planted firmly on the ground. Kade grabbed his arm and jerked him violently to his feet.
    “What’s your name, Regular? Wait, hold on.” Kade yanked him to his feet and removed the burlap sack, which had a rather comical-looking blood stain soaking through. The man had an open cut that was bleeding heavily down his face.
    “Uh...David. David Thompson.” The man was twenty something and dirty. He might have shit his pants when Kade rocked him a few minutes before.
    “David. Can I call you Dave? Great. We have a problem here, Dave. Do you know what it is?”
    “Listen, we’re just out here like you, trying to survive,” David pleaded. The severity of the situation had snapped him back from the head shot and he was in full-on survival mode.
    “Dave, we are not out here surviving. We live here, and we are quite happy, to be