Time Machine Prologue: Lawwell

Razors pulled slowly over taught skin, peeling, slicing, eating...  Who is Peter Lawwell?  Who am I?  Razors.  I look at the enemy and I see razors slicing and I know what I must do.  Never feel pity, never hesitate, always attack.  Sometimes I see clearly and know what must be done but...  Boiling.  Boiling the back off a man while he hangs in chains.  Sorry.  I know that Rangers must be punished.  Punishment!  Razors and boiling, the rack!  Cage them and flay them, bind them in wire and brush a sword down the dimpled flesh.  Punished for what?  No pity, no questions.  You are Lawwell, I am Lawwell, you know what must be done.  Death from a thousand cuts: too fast.  Spiers - integral cog in the machine, laid low by Tax Case win, must reinvigorate for the coming storm.  Storm and blood, blood and skin, razors and boiling and a thousand cuts.  I am Lawwell, I have a plan.  He is Lawwell, he has a plan.  He's mad.  He shows no pity.  What goes on in the mind of Lawwell?  This.

 

The lawyer.  I smile at the thought but need him whole.  The progrom against Rangers must continue.  The death by a thousand cuts must maintain its course.  Cuts, razors.  He shows no pity, I show no pity.  I am Lawwell.  Orders barked down a phone at Regan and Doncaster.  Two bags of gore, useless waste of skin holding it all in.  Should take a razor to them but wait.  Need them.  Lawwell needs them, I need them.  I am Lawwell.  He's mad.  What goes on in his mind?  I am his mind, I am Lawwell.

 

I take Spiers to the time machine.  It's taken a fortune to build.  Luckily we had a fortune.  Stolen from Rangers.  Rangers.  Hate them.  Hate them more than I love my own team.  Mission to destroy taking too long.  Must take drastic action.  Must flay, must boil, must razor.  Who says I'm mad?  These eyes hide genius, half closed to stop my soul escaping.  Have no soul, just Lawwell.  I am Lawwell.  What goes on in my head?  Rangers.