#moneymakers

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This series is based on the Moneymakers series by @coldresolve. Part 1 can be found here.

~~

When the car finally lurched to a halt for the last time, Renee felt like he was going to be sick. Not because of the steep mountain driving, hell, not even because he was being kidnapped and dragged off to the middle of nowhere. 

Without the means of his various substances to keep him awake, he’d lulled off into an exhausted trance— and now that the sudden screech of the brakes had drawn him out of his stupor, he’d been thrust back into his broken body and forced to acknowledge all that came with it.

And the first thing his dreaded mortal form gave him was a sharp, frantic clawing in his stomach. Which, when he stopped to think for half a second, was likely attributable to the fact that he hadn’t eaten in… two days? Three? He just hadn’t had the energy to do anything, really, after his supply ran out. Couldn’t even be bothered to keep himself up and running. Hell, maybe it was good that he’d been snatched up by some creep. If anything could bring back his will to survive, it would be spite. 

Now he had someone he could be determined to outlive. 

And speak of the devil. Corbin flashed a sarcastic, annoyingly perfect smile at him as he opened the car door, as if the two were lovers rather than newfound enemies. 

But before Renee could drag himself out of the car and push past his captor, Corbin held out a hand to stop him.

“Now Renee, I hope you understand, trust has to be earned.” 

The house he’d pulled in front of probably wasn’t even his. And if it was, Corbin wasn’t from New York, Renee knew that much. Wasn’t from anywhere in the north, not with that southern charm that seeped from his words now that he was back on his home turf. Even without the accent, it was unmistakable. 

Corbin chuckled at the withering glare he was given and pulled a thick pair of handcuffs from his leather satchel. 

“Well, right now, you’re in the red. Not my fault. And maybe there’ll become a time we don’t need these, but for now, I’d rather not give you the option to get yourself in any more trouble.” 

Renee’s hands clenched into fists on instinct. 

He shouldn’t go down without a fight. Not again. 

Yet there was nothing keeping Corbin from shooting him on the spot if he proved himself to be too much trouble to keep around. And he couldn’t take revenge on anyone if he was dead. Couldn’t leave a bullet in Davin’s head and take Conrad back for his own, couldn’t slash Corbin into pieces while he turned a mirror towards him, made him watch. 

He scoffed, set his jaw, and held his wrists out begrudgingly. 

Corbin tightened the cuffs in mere seconds. 

“Good boy,” he snorted. “Wonder what’d happen if I told you to roll over.” 

“I’d tell you to fuck off,” Renee muttered. 

Corbin laughed. 

“Maybe right now you would. But we’ll work on it. Soon enoguh, I’ll have you begging for orders.” 

The words chilled Renee even more than being stripped of his knives, even more than the demeaning remark about his piercing. And from the way Corbin leaned over to wrap an arm around his waist, he’d failed to make his fear undetectable. 

 “Come on, you’ll look cuter covered in some blood,” he said with a grin, dismissive of Renee’s evident panic. “What’re you waiting for?” 

He kept one hand on Renee’s waist the whole time they walked up to the house, the other firmly gripping between his handcuffs. 

It was all Renee could do not to squirm at the touch— he only managed to force himself still because he refused to give Corbin the satisfaction of a reaction. 

The mansion’s ornate French doors had five bolts on the outside, and he was thankfully released so Corbin could rummage for his keys. When the final lock had been turned, he swung the doors open, light filtering from the house into the morning’s darkness. 

“After you.” 

Renee wanted to strangle him. 

Instead, he trudged throguh the doorway, trying not to stare at the luxury of the entryway. Corbin was richer than his parents, it seemed, by far. And that was no small feat.

Five different bolts were locked from the inside, with a near-identical set of keys, and then Corbin put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t get to stay upstairs, not until you’ve shown you can behave,” he said condescendingly.  

“We’re going to the basement.”

He was dragged towards a narrow door and shoved down a dingy cement staircase. And his exhausted legs just couldn’t keep up— he tumbled down the stairs, facefirst, battered and bruised by the time he hit the floor. As he clambered to his feet, Corbin strode down the steps, an amused grin on his face. 

God. What Renee would give to not have to deal with this all while sober. He hauled himself to his feet, eyes widening as he took in the room for the first time. It was similar to the attic setup— tripod, camera, laptop, restraints dangling from the ceiling, various torture implements hanging on a rack in the corner. That wasn’t what scared him. 

The walls of the basement were lined with narrow, barred cell doors. And behind each door was a glimpse into Renee’s future. 

One captive was covered in massive burn marks charred black around the edges, their face not even spared from the damage. Another’s hands were sickeningly warped and twisted, a mess of broken bones all held at unnatural angles by vice-tight bandages. The one closest to Renee was so emanciated that he could barely tell if they were alive, if not for the silent tears running down their cheeks— and maybe they wouldn’t be, if not for the tangled mass of tubes and needles protruding from their veins. 

“Oh, that’s how I test everything I make in the lab,” Corbin said casually with a jerk towards the near cell, noticing how Renee stared. His grip stayed secure on his gun, even with his relaxed, friendly tone. 

“Most of my customers want a bit of my methods to take with them, and I make them all myself. Paralytics, sensation amplifiers, the standard. But I also like to test the limits of the body.  Jesse here has gone without sleep, food, movement, all that for… I think it’s been 8 weeks, by now. I’m trying to get them to 24.” 

It had never dawned on Renee before that maybe he’d been taking it easy on Conrad. That there were creeps out there who were ten times sicker than him. He knew he couldn’t let Corbin see his fear, not if he wanted to avoid that fate, but his face still froze into a mask of terror. 

He needed a line. 

Corbin continued his spiel just as enthusiastically, even more so now that Renee’s apprehension was evident. 

“But as you can tell, my audience has preferences. Different people for different things, for the most part. You know how it goes.”

He shoved his gun into Renee’s shoulder, forcing him towards the camera— and closer to the thick manacles dangling from above.  

first mockup is done!! some things i want to change are the color of the spine linen (it’s way too different from the cover red ^^”) i want to remake the cutouts for the cover text (i grossly overestimated my sizes on the cricut), and to buy a lint roller because my cat is obsessed with rubbing her *white furs* all over my black linen... apologies for the gif quality, tumblr really hates gifs it seems. also, it’s not shown in any shots, but i did add those red endpapers! i’ll try to get a pic later. thank you for your support! @coldresolve​

Two, who fool others to obtain Money for the sake of their Families, genuinely hate each other with every bit of their greedy souls

Dante Strawberry and FvsV project belong::