On the Other End

Johnathan Mitchell was a simple man of simple means. He took a telemarketing job one summer to pay bills and well, just to live. Not many places were hiring, that and the pay seemed promising for what it was.
Honestly, a human's emotions can only take so much before all of the verbal abuse turns into scars. He was only doing his job, calling people to ask them about the latest products out on the market, calling to sell them something. So many potential customers and just dicks. But this one is the straw that broke the camel's back.
"Hello, sir." Johnathan spoke into the phone, "I'm calling to ask you abo-"
No time to get it out before this douchebag cut in, "You know, I don't want any!" He went on, but it didn't end there. Most people would just hang up, not this asshole. He started to breathe deeply into phone, degrade John like he was some kind of prostitute by calling him names like "Sweet cheeks" telling him he had a nice ass.
Even so, Johnathan persevered. "Sir, honestly. You are being rude and -"
Hold that thought, son." He groaned, "I need to rub one out to your voice." It went on like this for a long time, causing John to feel uncomfortable, even dirty. He wasn't all right in the head anyhow, not from all the years of emotional and mental abuse. It didn't help that he heard a child in the background, no, this brought about far too many painful memories for Johnathan. The man may not have even been doing what he said he was doing, but even so.
After the phone call was through, Johnathan devised his plan. He had this man's number, he could easily find his address and everything would be in place. Killing him was too cliche, the fucker got off to easy that way. No, he had to be tortured in such a way that he would never again mistreat someone.
He got in his car, supplies in hand. He drove to this man's house, waited outside, watched him for days in order to get his routine down. Oh yes, this would be perfect. Wife at work, kid at school, man at home on his day off just watching the game. Johnathan got out of the car dressed in a suit and tie, briefcase in hand. Door to door salesman, who would suspect? Knock, knock.
The man came to the door, scratching his scalp with a lazy look. "Look, I don't want any." Johnathan merely smiled at this response, tired of hearing this reply. "Oh, sir. I think you do want what I am selling. It concerns you very much." Around that time, he pulled from behind the briefcase a tranquilizer dart hand gun, point blank range into the victim's shoulder.
"What the fuck!" He yelled, staggering around before hitting the floor, much to John's delight. Why, a smile even curled at his lips.


Mark woke up in a dark room, wrists and ankles in shackles, he could hardly move. Oh gods, the first thought that came to mind was being raped because he felt no a stitch of clothing on and was rather cool.
"Good evening, Mark." Came Johnathan's cool voice, sounding groggy and clouded in the man's mind. "Do you know why you're here?" Snap. It sounded like a latex glove in a doctor's office. "Uh...wha?" Mark asked, peering into the darkness to make out a slight silhouette of a figure...the voice sounded male, he had deduced that much.
"You've made me very angry, Mark." John spoke gently, "I've taken enough of your shit and you need to learn that you can't treat people like the shit on your shoe. Think of me as..." Silence, "Well, a hero of sorts. A hero to telemarketers everywhere."
Mark blinked into the darkness, "Pardon?"
"You'll see." John went on, affixing his mask before turning on the light. Before he and Mark sat something that looked like a stool with a pointed seat, along with chains affixed to the walls.
"What the fuck is this!?" Mark demanded in a groggy voice, causing Johnathan to grin beneath his mask. "It's a torture device. Honestly, Mark. Don't you read or watch the history channels?" A laugh sounded, John beginning to turn a crank that tightened the chains, eventually causing the shackles to pull at his victims wrists and ankles until the beautiful sounds of screams were heard. With one foot, he kicked the chair beneath Mark and lowered him onto it, slowly, painstakingly slow so that the man would have to watch it happen. He struggled, rattled at his chains and was eventually sitting on the point with chilling screams.
"Now." Johnathan smiled, "I have a present for you." Yelling over the screams, he clicked a button to a recorder, so many different calls to different customers over the years - Mark could hear what he had been through. "Please. Enjoy your stay." That said, the door closed behind him.

Johnathan sat at his desk, lifting the head set and placing it over his ears, the microphone set into place while dialing the next number for his next potential customer. Mark's screams were resonating from the other room, honestly it gave Johnathan a tingle of joy.
"Hello, my name is Johnathan." He began, "I want to talk to you today about a product I'm selling called..."

He released Mark a few days later, tranqued him and dumped him in a field close to the man's home. His family or a neighbor would find him, but it wasn't possible that Mark would be walking right for some time.

John picked up the phone again, dialing the next number on his list which just so happened to be Mark's number. "Hello."
"Hello, I would like to talk to you about a product that I'm selling." He paused, no interruption from Mark, which made him grin. "Oh and Mark."
"Yes?"
"How's your ass?" Click.