part 3
Fang had to let the overall shock to his body pass before he could maintain a steady consciousness. His breathing had returned to almost steady, and the four saw he was fit enough.
“Get up, you filthy animal,” Jason ordered.
“Take your time,” Mary cooed mockingly, getting up. Fang wiped the blood from his left eye, the only one that he could see out of since he was blind in the right eye. He had gotten used to it, but still hated the neighbors because they were the reason for it. Damn house fire. After wiping the blood off to clear his vision, he got himself to his hands and knees to try and stand up. He felt someone grab him roughly around the waist and straddling his legs. Desperate, he tried to buck the person off, but he had no strength too and the person had a strong grasp.
“He’s still got some fight in him!” Jason exclaimed. He then forced his hardened penis into Fang and began thrusting, casually at first to make sure it was in. With one arm around the slave’s waist, he grabbed the braided strip of hair and yanked Fang’s head back. He began rapidly thrusting, penetrating the poor victim deeply and roughly. Fang grimaced at each thrust, his body still stinging and dripping blood from the flogging. Pain shot throughout his body as his clawed the ground desperately with his left hand. Jason pulled out right before he started to ejaculate. Still holding Fang by the hair, he walked in front of him and white fluid leapt from his penis onto Fang’s face. The semen stung as it got into Fang’s eyes. “Here’s your war paint, Indian. Now show us the great warrior you claim to be!” He let go of Fang’s hair who tried to hide his face in complete shame, desperate to wipe off the cum, like a dog trying to scratch its face. Never before had he felt so humiliated and dehumanized. Mary whistled and motioned to some Silencers to bring something. Two guards grabbed Fang and brought him up to his knees and held his arms as the two silencers set a heavy beam on his shoulders. The rough hewn wood splintered on his shoulders causing him to cry out in pain.
“Your crossbar, my chief,” a Silencer mocked. They tied his arms securely, despite the sweat and blood making it slippery, wrapping his forearms around the back of the beam for as must stabilization and balancing as possible. The forced him to his feet, and he staggered under its weight. He knew this was the end, his nervous anxiety wanting to get the worst part over. Standing naked and bleeding, brutally raped in front of everyone who could see and watched the spectacle. He hung his head in shame, the proud warrior was gone and in their place stood a frightened boy. Mary walked up to him and fastened his blood soaked loincloth back on.
“You’re so beautiful like this. Your copper skin bleeding red,” she mused. “Mmm…too bad it ended like this. Unfortunately, crimes can’t go unpunished.”
“Finish it already,” Fang stated. Jason had a wooden board with string around it, the same ones used for the slave auction with type word “Treason” written on it.
“Here ya go, one last gift before ya die,” Jason said putting the sign around his neck.
Olivia stood in horror, watching what was happening to her brother. The other officers laughed and began placing bets.
“He won’t last a night!” An officer exclaimed. “I’ll bet you fifty dollars!”
“Nah, he’ll last three days at least,” another stated. “Wanna bet a hundred?”
“Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m going to go down and watch them nail that son of a bitch to the wood. Something about seeing the enemy leader screaming when the nails pierce his skin seems…erotic,” a different one stated. A few others joined him and went down. Olivia wanted to spare herself the trauma of having to watch the whole crucifixion process so she decided to try and clear her thoughts in the garden.
The heavy patibulum dug into the back of his neck and shoulders. In order to try his best and counteract the weight, he had to lean forward slightly. He knew where there crucified the slaves, he was even forced to assist in a crucifixion. Knowing where he was going did not make the walk to his death any easier. He had trouble walking on the muddy gravel path, already slipping several times and falling twice.
“Move faster!” Jason screamed laying a blow to Fang’s torn back. The weight of the patibulum overtook him and he fell again. “Get up, motherfucker! On your goddamned feet!” The beam was weighing him down and pinned him. He wondered if there was a way he could possible break his neck to spare him from the further humiliation that is to come.
“Get him on his feet,” Mary ordered. Two Silencers took forced him to his feet while trying not to sleep in the mud themselves. The weight of the beam was too much for him, but he was still forced to carry it unassisted. When they finally made it to the center of the camp, he saw a group of guards, a few he recognized. It was the execution team. All the slaves were gathered and forced to watch the execution. The prisoners of the camp had grown accustomed to continuous executions and ignored what was going on, but still casting glances. Some of them decided to watch. The main group observing were the guards and Silencers, mocking Fang and placing bets on how long he would last. He realized he was not only being executed, but also used as an example, increasing his humiliation. The slaves were up front while the guards and Silencers were grouped together. He was already exhausted and his execution had not even started yet. The long death march was drawing near the end as he passed by several other tau style crosses. One still held a skeleton of an executed slave and the other three had bodies in various stages of decomposition, the most recent one, nearly three weeks dead. Then at the end, there was the stipe of the one he would be nailed too. Out of either fear or exhaustion at seeing the instrument of his death, possibly both, his legs gave out.
“Not again,” Jason muttered and landed a few blows.
“You’re embarrassing me!” Mary yelled. “Ugh, take it off.” The guards undid the ropes and Fang collapsed to the ground.
“On your feet!” Jason ordered. Fang made no move to get up and two Silencers had to force him up and after walking him in front of the stipe, held him up. The Black Queen stepped up and as loud as she could and yet still be understood, read the death sentence:
“Fang Aaron Okwaho, Chief General of the United States Mohawk Army, you are found guilty on the charges of Treason, Sedition, and many war crimes against OWL and her partners. Such charges warrant the penalty of death. Do you understand the sentence I have just read?” The Black Queen asked. For a moment, Fang started getting angry. Annoyed that he let this happen to himself.
“Yes,” he replied angrily. What war crimes were they talking about? He sure as hell knew that they did not give him a trial or anything close to that. He stomped his foot in the mud showing his anger.
“Easy,” a Silencer warned. “You better watch it.”
“The man before you, the great military general and Chief of the Mohawk Indians, after a fair trial, stands convicted of treason, sedition, and numerous unspeakable war crimes against OWL and her partners. He offers no remorse for his actions. We have no choice but to condemn this man to death using a method appropriate for said and unsaid offenses. A method reserved for the worst of the worst, like him. May this man’s execution be an example to you all not to dare challenge OWL’s sovereign authority. I’m sorry, it grieves me to say this, but you are hereby sentenced to death by crucifixion. To be nailed and hang on the wood until death. May God choose to have mercy on your soul,” the Black Queen exclaimed. Silencers and guards yelled and shouted, some spat at him. They wanted him dead. Fang was now furious, refusing to go down without a fight. He would go kicking and screaming if he had to. “Guards, crucify the prisoner.”
“You’ll pay for this!” Fang shouted resisting the guards. “You can kill me but my brothers will keep fighting you!”
“Shut up!” A guard ordered.
“My people will fight without me!” He yelled.
“Crucify the fucking animal already!” Mary screamed. One of the guards had the brilliant idea of tripping him and dragged him on his shredded back to the patibulum. The whole execution squad had to pin him down while two of them secured his forearms to the beam with rope intertwined with barbed and razor wire. They snuggly wrapped it around his arm, causing the barbs and razors to dig in then finished by wrapping the rest around the arm and beam. Two soldiers were still needed to hold his arms down while one sat on his legs and another straddling his chest to prevent him from bucking.
“You’ll regret this,” Fang seethed. He no longer cared about the the people watching his crucifixion, he wanted to give the enemy one last fight. Mary picked up the box containing the spikes and started going through them, dropping the ones she liked on the ground easily within Fang’s view. When he saw the six inch long nail spike, which was approximately three-quarters of an inch in the thickest diameter, fear crept in again. He would be secured to the crossbeam by spikes through the wrist and feet. His fit of anger turned to desperation, the situation now sinking in. The nails clattered slowly to the ground, one by one as Mary muttered things while going through the box.
“That’s bent at the tip, this looks dull…well, this one’s been used but still looks decent. Huh, still has blood on it too,” she muttered. Simultaneously, she was letting Fang wear himself out. Once she grabbed the four nails to her liking, she tossed four small wooden squares next to them. Fang was panting, trying to gather his strength. “Oh, Fang, you’ve been an intriguing one.” She knelt down next to his left arm with a nail and wooden board in one hand and the other, a mallet. He turned his head and looked up at her.
“Just get it over with, woman,” he snarled. Mary looked down at him with displeasure.
“I’ll make sure your death is as slow and agonizing as possible, you piece of shit!” She exclaimed. She checked the security of his arm, stretched just under full extension at about a thirty degree angle. He tried to wiggle free, but with his head being just under the crossbar, he had no leverage or advantage. Mary looked down at him and smiled. “Yes, your body is still fit and muscular. Such a rare opportunity that we get to put up someone like you, and a Jew no less. Mmm…you’ll do nicely on the cross.” She traced what remnants there were of the Star of David that was branded on his shredded skin. Fang desperately tried to free himself, knowing there was nothing he could do.
“Settle down, slave, you might as well accept your fate,” the Silencer sitting on Fang chest growled. He reached behind him and grasped Fang’s genitalia through his loincloth, ready to crush them with his grasp if Fang begins resisting again.
“Easy, don’t damage the goods just yet,” Mary said.
“Fine,” the Silencer huffed loosening his grip.
“I hope you enjoy pain,” Mary stated with a smile. She began prodding different areas on Fang’s wrist, looking for the optimal spot to place the nail. She put the wooden plank on the chosen area and started tapping the nail in. Fang felt the sharp tip starting to pierce his flesh. Seeing that the nail was in a desirable place, a Silencer held down Fang’s palm and upper forearm. Nothing could prepare him for the he was about to endure. He was trying to steady his breathing and brace himself. The mallet slammed down on the head of the nail driving it partially into his wrist. He let out a gut wrenching yell and squirmed. Mary waited a short moment before landing another blow which drove the spike through his wrist. The two Silencers used all their weight to keep him pinned to the ground. She continued pounding the nail three additional times ensuing it went completely through his wrist and the patibulum. Fang tried to pull his wrist off, but the wood plank acted as a washer. He screamed with the slightest movement of his wrist and Mary walked over to his right wrist and looked at him. His chest was heaving. She waited, giving him a moment to feel the full extent of the pain.
