A session of criminal torture

A session of criminal torture is about to begin; the guys are in a bloodthirsty frenzy. Some feel the adrenaline of a demonic high—aggressive demons clamoring for blood. They are like violent street gangs, but with a difference: in the astral realm, they are invisible, powerful, and hidden. They pry open a dark rift in your mind, slipping in with stealthy, intrusive thoughts to guide you. Drug and alcohol use act as a powerful, evil portal for them to enter. I won't describe the acts they whisper for you to carry out—you already know, by instinct, every detail of such a cowardly deed. It would be better to simply shoot someone in the head than to do what’s playing out in your mind. Deranged and sick, they slit the throats of rivals and humiliate them while they’re still alive, inflicting the cruelest, most agonizing pain one human can inflict upon another—the absolute worst of the worst. Beyond just dying, the victim is humiliated and violated—cursed and degraded to shame their family. That’s what they think is cool about the criminal life—but you know what? Fuck it.