The blade sliced deeply and cleanly through the pilot’s neck, severing his internal, anterior, and external jugular veins, exposing the muscles of his throat straight down to his spinal cord in the process.
Caesar laughed in glee at the spectacular arc of blood that sprayed across the instrument panel, dripping down the windshield and rounded walls of the cockpit. The pilot, choking on his own blood, coughed—a strangled, animal sound—and thrashed in his seat. Still strapped in, he struggled but it didn’t yield much result.
“Shh,” Caesar whispered into his ear, holding tight to the man’s head as his struggles grew weaker, the blood arcing lower and lower with each pulse of his heart. In mere moments it was over. The pilot slumped to one side, dead, and Caesar was left with nothing but a
