I guarantee he won't want to listen to me. That's why I thought... I don't know, I thought you could talk to him for me. You two need to talk.. anyway. Just... there's a lot of shit he told me that really wasn't my business, and- yeah.
[He moves toward Ragnar, and his phone buzzes with a text. Brink's been kind enough to raise a red flag without alerting Ragnar - "I smell Ivar." Dodger glances at Brink, and takes a deep breath before standing beside Ragnar, choosing not to let his guard down this time as Brink paces between them and the shore.]
I'm- really, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to get caught up in all my- stupid bullshit. I just wasn't expecting- ... [He grimaces.] I've slept with Athelstan before, there weren't any problems. I didn't think everything would end up this fucked up. And I'm not- good at... fixing things, when they get like this.
[He hesitates.]
I know it's not your style, but I want you to punish me. It's not for my sake, trust me, I just.. I just want you to take things out on me. It'd make you feel better.
[Ragnar's eyes remain on the river as Dodger speaks. When he still hasn't taken a seat by the time he's done, Ragnar slowly pushes himself up onto his feet. He took a moment to shrug the blanket into a better position around his shoulders unhurriedly and gave Dodger a bittersweet smile that didn't come close to reaching his eyes. He was done with the act, done with pretending this was about wanting an apology.]
You are right. He probably would not listen to you... [Ragnar shrugged a little.] Why should he? [The muscle in his jaw strained as he grit his teeth together.] Actually, we did speak, he and I. I cannot say for sure, but I would guess that the reason there was no problem the first time was because you drugged him.
You know, Dodger. [Biting his lip, he leaned in closer, close enough to practically whisper the words in his ear, lightly trailing his thumb along Dodger's hip.] That is also rape.
[He tilted his head to lock eyes with Dodger, his gaze cold, calculating, predatory.] You want me to punish you? [The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk, one that completely lacked his usual warmth and playfulness. Once again grazing his thumb over Dodger's hip, he leaned in a little closer, almost like he was going to kiss Dodger, but instead snapped the power dampening collar on him, leaned back and headbutted him as hard as he could in the face with a snarl.
He shrugged off the blanket, throwing it in Brink's direction as he reached for the axe at his side.]
[Ivar had been there for quite some time in the form of a black squirrel. No one really noticed rodents hanging around the Quarantine. He'd climbed up a nearby lamppost, ignoring the squirrel's instincts that wanted to run and find a less exposed spot. It was a good creature to pick, for the squirrel had good eyesight as well as a sensitive sense of smell and hearing.
He listened to Ragnar and Dodger talking, the fluffy tail curling over his back bristling with fury. When it appears that his father is almost ready to spring the trap, he scampers back down the post, and over to where he'd left his wheelchair. He morphs back to human, picking up his weapons. He's already got some lovely ideas on what to do to Dodger.
He arrives just as Ragnar snaps the power dampening collar around Dodger's neck. He comes up, casually smacking Brink back down with the handle of his knife as the dog tries to disentangle himself from the blanket. He's smiling, just a little, that psychotic one that Dodger knows quite well by now. He's looking like he's picking out just what spot he's going to stick a knife into Dodger first.]
You really didn't think we were going to allow you to get away with this, did you?
[Dodger freezes when Ragnar gets up, instinctively aware that something is up as Brink bristles beside him. He opens his mouth to explain no, wait, the drug was barely more than alcohol, just an inhibition inhibitor...
...But the words don't come out by the time he hears the familiar click of the collar, and bites his tongue hard as Ragnar headbutts him, stumbling backward with a yelp as he tries to keep his balance.
Brink, meanwhile, had started up a stream of warning barks the moment the blanket had fallen over him, and only falls silent for a moment when Ivar hits him. The blanket is large enough to weigh itself off of him if he struggles enough, but that will still leaves him unavailable for a good minute or to.
And the moment that Dodger hears Ivar's voice, catches sight of the ax at Ragnar's side as he hears the jeer in the teen Viking's tone... His eyes sharpen with a panic he has yet to properly feel before since coming here.]
Wh- y-
[He glances back at Ivar, but a moment later his mind simply rejects the concept of looking at him. He can't stomach what could possibly be about to happen to him, because the evidence is all there for Ragnar letting Ivar do what he pleases with him and he knows what Ivar pleases.]
No, hold on, you have no idea what the fuck you're doing.
[The fear is already clear in his voice, and the collar's light turns red as he tries his hardest to teleport away and it administers a hard shock. Fuck... Ivar, the loss of his powers, the electricity... He's already on the verge of tears, except he knows that will do fuck all if Ragnar's already decided this is how things will go.]
You are wrong. [Ragnar looks over at Ivar and then back at Dodger, grabbing the back of his neck. He gives him a hard shove, moving him off the little old dock and onto the grassy embankment.] I would say we have a very good idea what we are doing.
[He forced Dodger down onto the grass, prodding the back of his knees with a foot to make them buckle if he doesn't go down willingly. Kneeling, he pulled his axe out, the blade in Dodger's face to drive his warning home.] Do you want to call your dog off, or would you prefer we take care of him for you?
We have a lot to do. We would not want him getting in the way.
[And then he's cut off as Brink, finally free from the blanket, attacks him, desperate to save his master from the grisly fate that awaits him. Ivar's knocked out of his wheelchair. He feels a sharp jolt go through his legs as the dog begins to attack him.
He grabs his axe and slams the blade down into Brink's head as hard as he can. Normally, he'd feel bad about dong this to a dog, but Brink's not an actual animal in the strictest sense of the word. He slams it down again one more time for good measure before pushing the now-limp form of the AllMate off of him.]
Ow.
[He looks down at his legs and he can already tell one of them just broke. Really? He just healed up from the last break a month ago! At least now he has the morphing ability, which should take care of this pretty soon. He crawls back over to his wheelchair and gets in, hiding any signs of the throbbing pain moving through his left knee and shinbone.]
I'll be right back.
[He doesn't want to let Dodger know he has morphing abilities just yet. As soon as he's out of sight, off go the shoes and his outer layers. He morphs the first creature that comes to mind, the habbit. Morphing into the little winged beast and back again takes about five minutes total. Then he's heading back, eager to get started on tormenting Dodger.]
[Dodger feels the world go numb and mute, as for the second time he watches his AllMate struggling on the ground, letting out sparks and gurgled whirring noises. If it was just a machine, it wouldn't be as gruesome, but AllMates are built to be as realistic as possible... along with exposed wires pulled up by Ivar's blade, thick black blood is weeping from the wound and Brink's eyes are wide, his face contorted in the same desperate confusion a normal dog would have.
He can't carry Brink without his powers. He knows that much. The dog weighs as much as a full dresser, disregarding the awkwardness of his limbs on the best of days. But Ivar is wheeling himself away, and surely he's just doing some hackjob first aid on that wound, so he won't be chasing after him...
There's another shock as Dodger's instincts tell him to go invisible, go invisible now, but he fights back the urge just to keep himself sane enough for an escape plan. His arm shoots up, trapping Ragnar's ax arm between his shoulder and jaw, and he does his best to slip and scramble out of his grasp - he may be noticeably weaker with the collar on, but he's still a force to be reckoned with when he's panicked.]
[Brink, as expected, was immediately an issue. Before Dodger even got the chance to answer or call off the dog, it was attacking Ivar, which didn't make a lot of sense to Ragnar, but maybe their long-standing feud made him the primary target. Regardless, Ivar did what Ragnar was threatening and prepared to do, which was cave the thing's head in.
He sighed in annoyance and Dodger's desperate and ultimately ineffective attempt to scramble away. Ragnar simply sunk down onto his knees, one knee firmly on Dodger's back with all his weight behind it, to pin Dodger down. Grabbing him by the back of the neck, he forced his head down as well and moved his axe free with an annoyed sigh.]
Stop. [He finally snarled, putting more force into keeping him pinned down.] Did you not just say you wanted punishment? You have forced my hand. Do you understand? I cannot do nothing after what you did. It would be best if you stopped struggling and accepted it.
[Ivar looks calm enough on the outside, but one look in his eyes, and both the men before him will be able to see the insanity rising up inside. He pulls out one of his knives and runs it lightly over Dodger's hand, savoring the moment.]
I'm going to have lots of fun with you. Yes, I am.
[He sounds positively gleeful, like a child with a new toy. He likes seeing the fear in Dodger's eyes.]
You can start screaming now.
[Then he digs the blade into Dodger's thumb and begins the process of separating the skin from the muscle beneath. He's going to take his time nice and slow as he works his way around the mutant's hand.]
[It's a little funny... if he were removed from the situation, he got laugh about it - he'd tried so hard to warn Ragnar about the monster of a son he had, but apparently the man already knew, accepted and celebrated it. Why else give Ivar the reigns?
He grits his teeth as the knife splits his skin, somehow that much sharper between the loss of his powers and the raw betrayal from Ragnar. His eyes screw shut, and by the time Ivar's peeled the skin back to his palm he's shaking as his limbs sort of struggle with no mental capacity to accomplish anything.
Ivar moves on to his index finger and then his middle, and he can only tell because the pain keeps rising and spreading, even as it's drowned by the numbness of shock. He still doesn't scream, though - Augustine had taught him well with that, no one will help him if he screams. It will only make him more inconvenient. So instead, he collapses into desperate whimpers, tears streaming down his face as the blade slides through the back of his hand and peels away the eye tattoo.]
[Ragnar kept him pinned down, a knee on his back and a hand on his elbow to keep him from jerking away as Ivar meticulously moved over each finger and then peels away a tattoo. He says nothing, expression neutral, almost watchful as his eyes follow Ivar's blade. The last thing they want is to hit a vein too early, this was a punishment, not a swift and merciful death. Unlike Ivar, Ragnar didn't seem to be enjoying this. It was a necessary evil and, if Ivar found some pleasure in it then all the more power to him.
Shifting his weight slightly, he helped turn Dodger's arm to make Ivar's cut easier, switching to Norse as he quietly pointed out which ways they could cut and then told Ivar he was going to start the other hand.
Keeping his knee pressed hard against Dodger's back to keep him from moving, he reached for his axe. After testing the distance, acting like he was possibly planning on straight up cutting off the fingers of his other hand, he twirled the axe in his hand and brought down the thick blunt edge hard on his pointer finger, feeling the bone give away under the blow.]
[At least someone is having fun here and it's currently the teenage psychopath gleefully skinning his enemy alive. This is great fun for Ivar, one of the best experiences he's had in a while. Even without Dodger screaming, he can see the fear in the man's eyes, and that's almost just as good.
Then Dodger's arm jerks, whether by design or accident, and Ivar cuts in a little deeper than he was expecting. He lets out a huffy noise like a child who is having his drawing ruined by accidentally coloring outside the lines. He holds the knife up to Dodger's face, right by his eye, the same one he's taken out before.]
Hold still, you fuck.
[Ivar doesn't like his work being spoiled like that. So he traces the knife around Dodger's face, deciding what he's going to do to punish him further. Then he grabs a hold of Dodger's ear, taking his knife to it. The good news? It's a very sharp blade, so it only takes a few strokes to saw through the cartilage. The bad news? It's still going to hurt like hell. After he's got the ear off, Ivar stares at it for a moment, deciding what he should do with it. Eventually, he sticks it in his pocket, as if saving it for later.]
[Losing his ear does make him cry out, a stifled noise of pain not unlike a dog's shriek. There are tears streaming down his face, and his breath is ragged and pained as he still struggles weakly. Every so often, a half-hearted attempt to burn them will administer a hard shock to him, some of which may transfer to the Vikings. Those shocks are becoming more frequent, though, as the pain rises... perhaps something should be done about it.]
[It takes until the third or fourth shock for Ragnar to finally piece together that it's the collar doing it, which means Dodger is trying to use his powers. As he brings the head of the axe down on his next knuckle, he idly wonders if it's Dodger trying to retaliate or if he's trying to get away.
Ragnar gets sprayed with blood from the initial cut by Dodger's ear, so he pauses to get ahold of his hair to keep his head still as Ivar continues to work away at it.
He waited until Dodger was quiet again, just soft pained noises before speaking to Ivar, still in Norse.] His tongue? [It's a suggestion, a stray thought before he breaks the last two fingers on his hand.]
[Ivar hisses as a small jolt of electricity hits his hands again. Dodger must really be in a pain-fueled panic if he keeps trying to use his powers. He wipes some of the blood now soaking his hands off, so that he can keep a grip on his knife.
He looks over appreciatively at Ragnar at the suggestion.]
Now there's an idea.
[He leaves off skinning him, now to the upper part of his arm, and traces the knife along Dodger's jawline, coming to rest right by his lips. He'd better remain very still if he doesn't want to be further maimed. It's very clear what they're discussing even if Dodger can't understand the language. Eventually, Ivar comes to a decision.]
No, let him keep it. That way he can scream longer.
[Somewhere in his head, a dull thought is rattling around his head, upset that Ivar has had to rip open the sleeve of his favorite hoodie to gain access to his skin. It barely matters, all things considered, but he still manages to get just as upset about it as he is about everything else.
Dodger is shaking enough that he splits his bottom lip against the knife, and he lets out a pitiful little noise of pain with it. Their voices are muffled by the blood in his ear, but it doesn't matter what they're saying - it's the casual tone that makes him afraid more than anything.]
Mercy... Mercy, mercy...
[He's just started mumbling it without any hope that he'll be listened to, begging for Ragnar to have pity on him.]
[The begging immediately enraged Ragnar. As soon as Ivar's knife was away from his mouth, Ragnar grabbed the back of Dodger's head and shoved it forward, one hard push to send his forehead and face colliding into the dirt before tugging again. He leaned down to speak into Dodger's remaining ear in a low, calm growl.]
Athelstan asked you to stop as well, did he not? I see no reason why we should grant you the mercy that you refused to grant him.
[Moving on, he took one of Ivar's knives and sliced down the back of Dodger's shirt, cutting it open to expose his back. Like Ivar had done with his hand, Ragnar began a shallow incision down Dodger's back. He worked methodically, unhurriedly starting to skin his back.]
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[He moves toward Ragnar, and his phone buzzes with a text. Brink's been kind enough to raise a red flag without alerting Ragnar - "I smell Ivar." Dodger glances at Brink, and takes a deep breath before standing beside Ragnar, choosing not to let his guard down this time as Brink paces between them and the shore.]
I'm- really, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to get caught up in all my- stupid bullshit. I just wasn't expecting- ... [He grimaces.] I've slept with Athelstan before, there weren't any problems. I didn't think everything would end up this fucked up. And I'm not- good at... fixing things, when they get like this.
[He hesitates.]
I know it's not your style, but I want you to punish me. It's not for my sake, trust me, I just.. I just want you to take things out on me. It'd make you feel better.
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You are right. He probably would not listen to you... [Ragnar shrugged a little.] Why should he? [The muscle in his jaw strained as he grit his teeth together.] Actually, we did speak, he and I. I cannot say for sure, but I would guess that the reason there was no problem the first time was because you drugged him.
You know, Dodger. [Biting his lip, he leaned in closer, close enough to practically whisper the words in his ear, lightly trailing his thumb along Dodger's hip.] That is also rape.
[He tilted his head to lock eyes with Dodger, his gaze cold, calculating, predatory.] You want me to punish you? [The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk, one that completely lacked his usual warmth and playfulness. Once again grazing his thumb over Dodger's hip, he leaned in a little closer, almost like he was going to kiss Dodger, but instead snapped the power dampening collar on him, leaned back and headbutted him as hard as he could in the face with a snarl.
He shrugged off the blanket, throwing it in Brink's direction as he reached for the axe at his side.]
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He listened to Ragnar and Dodger talking, the fluffy tail curling over his back bristling with fury. When it appears that his father is almost ready to spring the trap, he scampers back down the post, and over to where he'd left his wheelchair. He morphs back to human, picking up his weapons. He's already got some lovely ideas on what to do to Dodger.
He arrives just as Ragnar snaps the power dampening collar around Dodger's neck. He comes up, casually smacking Brink back down with the handle of his knife as the dog tries to disentangle himself from the blanket. He's smiling, just a little, that psychotic one that Dodger knows quite well by now. He's looking like he's picking out just what spot he's going to stick a knife into Dodger first.]
You really didn't think we were going to allow you to get away with this, did you?
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...But the words don't come out by the time he hears the familiar click of the collar, and bites his tongue hard as Ragnar headbutts him, stumbling backward with a yelp as he tries to keep his balance.
Brink, meanwhile, had started up a stream of warning barks the moment the blanket had fallen over him, and only falls silent for a moment when Ivar hits him. The blanket is large enough to weigh itself off of him if he struggles enough, but that will still leaves him unavailable for a good minute or to.
And the moment that Dodger hears Ivar's voice, catches sight of the ax at Ragnar's side as he hears the jeer in the teen Viking's tone... His eyes sharpen with a panic he has yet to properly feel before since coming here.]
Wh- y-
[He glances back at Ivar, but a moment later his mind simply rejects the concept of looking at him. He can't stomach what could possibly be about to happen to him, because the evidence is all there for Ragnar letting Ivar do what he pleases with him and he knows what Ivar pleases.]
No, hold on, you have no idea what the fuck you're doing.
[The fear is already clear in his voice, and the collar's light turns red as he tries his hardest to teleport away and it administers a hard shock. Fuck... Ivar, the loss of his powers, the electricity... He's already on the verge of tears, except he knows that will do fuck all if Ragnar's already decided this is how things will go.]
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[He forced Dodger down onto the grass, prodding the back of his knees with a foot to make them buckle if he doesn't go down willingly. Kneeling, he pulled his axe out, the blade in Dodger's face to drive his warning home.] Do you want to call your dog off, or would you prefer we take care of him for you?
We have a lot to do. We would not want him getting in the way.
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[And then he's cut off as Brink, finally free from the blanket, attacks him, desperate to save his master from the grisly fate that awaits him. Ivar's knocked out of his wheelchair. He feels a sharp jolt go through his legs as the dog begins to attack him.
He grabs his axe and slams the blade down into Brink's head as hard as he can. Normally, he'd feel bad about dong this to a dog, but Brink's not an actual animal in the strictest sense of the word. He slams it down again one more time for good measure before pushing the now-limp form of the AllMate off of him.]
Ow.
[He looks down at his legs and he can already tell one of them just broke. Really? He just healed up from the last break a month ago! At least now he has the morphing ability, which should take care of this pretty soon. He crawls back over to his wheelchair and gets in, hiding any signs of the throbbing pain moving through his left knee and shinbone.]
I'll be right back.
[He doesn't want to let Dodger know he has morphing abilities just yet. As soon as he's out of sight, off go the shoes and his outer layers. He morphs the first creature that comes to mind, the habbit. Morphing into the little winged beast and back again takes about five minutes total. Then he's heading back, eager to get started on tormenting Dodger.]
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He can't carry Brink without his powers. He knows that much. The dog weighs as much as a full dresser, disregarding the awkwardness of his limbs on the best of days. But Ivar is wheeling himself away, and surely he's just doing some hackjob first aid on that wound, so he won't be chasing after him...
There's another shock as Dodger's instincts tell him to go invisible, go invisible now, but he fights back the urge just to keep himself sane enough for an escape plan. His arm shoots up, trapping Ragnar's ax arm between his shoulder and jaw, and he does his best to slip and scramble out of his grasp - he may be noticeably weaker with the collar on, but he's still a force to be reckoned with when he's panicked.]
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He sighed in annoyance and Dodger's desperate and ultimately ineffective attempt to scramble away. Ragnar simply sunk down onto his knees, one knee firmly on Dodger's back with all his weight behind it, to pin Dodger down. Grabbing him by the back of the neck, he forced his head down as well and moved his axe free with an annoyed sigh.]
Stop. [He finally snarled, putting more force into keeping him pinned down.] Did you not just say you wanted punishment? You have forced my hand. Do you understand? I cannot do nothing after what you did. It would be best if you stopped struggling and accepted it.
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I'm going to have lots of fun with you. Yes, I am.
[He sounds positively gleeful, like a child with a new toy. He likes seeing the fear in Dodger's eyes.]
You can start screaming now.
[Then he digs the blade into Dodger's thumb and begins the process of separating the skin from the muscle beneath. He's going to take his time nice and slow as he works his way around the mutant's hand.]
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He grits his teeth as the knife splits his skin, somehow that much sharper between the loss of his powers and the raw betrayal from Ragnar. His eyes screw shut, and by the time Ivar's peeled the skin back to his palm he's shaking as his limbs sort of struggle with no mental capacity to accomplish anything.
Ivar moves on to his index finger and then his middle, and he can only tell because the pain keeps rising and spreading, even as it's drowned by the numbness of shock. He still doesn't scream, though - Augustine had taught him well with that, no one will help him if he screams. It will only make him more inconvenient. So instead, he collapses into desperate whimpers, tears streaming down his face as the blade slides through the back of his hand and peels away the eye tattoo.]
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Shifting his weight slightly, he helped turn Dodger's arm to make Ivar's cut easier, switching to Norse as he quietly pointed out which ways they could cut and then told Ivar he was going to start the other hand.
Keeping his knee pressed hard against Dodger's back to keep him from moving, he reached for his axe. After testing the distance, acting like he was possibly planning on straight up cutting off the fingers of his other hand, he twirled the axe in his hand and brought down the thick blunt edge hard on his pointer finger, feeling the bone give away under the blow.]
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Then Dodger's arm jerks, whether by design or accident, and Ivar cuts in a little deeper than he was expecting. He lets out a huffy noise like a child who is having his drawing ruined by accidentally coloring outside the lines. He holds the knife up to Dodger's face, right by his eye, the same one he's taken out before.]
Hold still, you fuck.
[Ivar doesn't like his work being spoiled like that. So he traces the knife around Dodger's face, deciding what he's going to do to punish him further. Then he grabs a hold of Dodger's ear, taking his knife to it. The good news? It's a very sharp blade, so it only takes a few strokes to saw through the cartilage. The bad news? It's still going to hurt like hell. After he's got the ear off, Ivar stares at it for a moment, deciding what he should do with it. Eventually, he sticks it in his pocket, as if saving it for later.]
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Ragnar gets sprayed with blood from the initial cut by Dodger's ear, so he pauses to get ahold of his hair to keep his head still as Ivar continues to work away at it.
He waited until Dodger was quiet again, just soft pained noises before speaking to Ivar, still in Norse.] His tongue? [It's a suggestion, a stray thought before he breaks the last two fingers on his hand.]
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He looks over appreciatively at Ragnar at the suggestion.]
Now there's an idea.
[He leaves off skinning him, now to the upper part of his arm, and traces the knife along Dodger's jawline, coming to rest right by his lips. He'd better remain very still if he doesn't want to be further maimed. It's very clear what they're discussing even if Dodger can't understand the language. Eventually, Ivar comes to a decision.]
No, let him keep it. That way he can scream longer.
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Dodger is shaking enough that he splits his bottom lip against the knife, and he lets out a pitiful little noise of pain with it. Their voices are muffled by the blood in his ear, but it doesn't matter what they're saying - it's the casual tone that makes him afraid more than anything.]
Mercy... Mercy, mercy...
[He's just started mumbling it without any hope that he'll be listened to, begging for Ragnar to have pity on him.]
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Athelstan asked you to stop as well, did he not? I see no reason why we should grant you the mercy that you refused to grant him.
[Moving on, he took one of Ivar's knives and sliced down the back of Dodger's shirt, cutting it open to expose his back. Like Ivar had done with his hand, Ragnar began a shallow incision down Dodger's back. He worked methodically, unhurriedly starting to skin his back.]