Your murderous F/O calls you into the dingy basement room with a short bark of your name. They’ve been down their for hours with a…guest.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you enter, but you’re not surprised either. They’re standing behind the metal chair where they have the person tied up. The figure is bloody, and doesn’t appear to be lucid any more.

Your f/o smirks when they see you. They have a knife in their hand, and they press the handle of it into yours, curling your fingers around it with their own.

They nod toward the figure in the chair. You know what they want you to do.

You can feel your fingers trembling as you hold the knife. It’s the first time they’ve given you this duty. This… Honor?

You take a deep breath, and hesitantly step up to the chair, desperate not to let your nervousness show. Not to disappoint them.

You draw the blade across the victim’s throat. Whether you’re disgusted or eager doesn’t matter in the end, the result is the same.

Your f/o smirks and places a hand fondly on top of your head.

“Good boy.”/“Good girl.”