The Duke’s Festoon

There are 2 small cylinders attached to your back. A transparent tube circles around, feeding into the top of one cylinder and into the bottom of the other. A slightly blood-red fluid flows through the tube. Stenciled sideways, one of the cylinders has plain yellow text: FOOD.

A wooden chair is underneath you. I stand up on it, so that I can reach your hanging torso. I push against your ribs and cause your limp body to gently sway. A few semi-congealed blobs of blood fall from where your left arm used to protrude from your shoulder. Satisfied that you are still alive and breathing, I step down from the chair.

I reach into my left jacket pocket and palm the small glass bottle. I bring it out, hold it up to the light and stare at the black liquid in it. I carefully take the syringe from my other pocket, and push the needle into the top of the bottle. The black liquid fills the syringe. Satisfied with the quantity, I withdraw the needle from the bottle. I pause for a moment, and then press the needle into your swinging body. The plunger gives little resistance as the black liquid shoots into you, and the fluid is slightly visible under the skin. I have pulled the needle from your flesh. Barely 5 seconds go by, and then I see: you become invisible.