Eighth Circle

'Now. What do you think of us?'

A death troll appeared, as if from nowhere, and balanced on the edge of the shattered walkway. Its face distorted into a malicious grin.

'As I told you ... I have many bodies.'

The hideous creature produced a jagged knife.

'You have only one life and I shall take it from you, Professor. Prepare for the agony of being cut apart by one who has over three-hundred years' experience in the noble art of vivisection.'

The blade glinted in the early morning sun. Tom prepared himself for one of his martial arts kicks. His mind went through the lightning-fast movements needed to deliver a killing blow ... but his limbs failed to respond.

A three-hundred-year-old brain had rooted him to the spot.

'We shall start with the outer extremities.'

The refined voice mocked him.

'An ear ... a nose ... then a finger or two. After that we shall proceed to more intimate parts. I am informed that you see yourself as a ladies' man and prize that singular part of the male person that men hold so dear. It is strange that nature endowed us with only one. Most other parts come in twos ...'

Tom wasn't impressed by the outpouring. The surgeon was clearly obsessed with his penis ... or lack of one. Under normal circumstances he would have used that to his advantage. But it wasn't an option. He had to face up to the immediate reality of a towering brute with a vicious knife.

He made a desperate attempt to strike out. Nothing happened. He'd had similar experiences in dreams. This wasn't a dream. You could wake from a dream and find yourself alive and well.

'Too scared to defend yourself, Professor?'

The knife moved towards his nose. Tom's mind raced. There had to be a way out. This couldn't be the end. Fate had always been kind to him. He surely had more adventures before him... more realms to visit.

The razor-sharp blade began to undress him. He'd had similar experiences with likeminded persons of the opposite gender. But with scissors and for mutual satisfaction. He thought of the sirens and how he had planned to rescue them and return them to their families.

That couldn't happen if he was sliced up. There was so much to do and rescuing maidens in distress was only part of it. He was still young. He couldn't die now. Fate must have more in store for him than an inglorious death at the hands of an ugly brute controlled by a brain in a jar.

'Urrrh!'

The brute burped.