Dealing in Action

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/ We are powerful as animals but weak and unintelligent as humans. That's the truth. We need a far stronger being from within our own kind because we don't believe we can handle what that being could manage. We dream of this creature constantly, craving its presence. We long to pour out all our troubles to it, hoping it will rescue us. Doesn't that reveal how powerless we truly are? /

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Knock Knock.

Someone raps on the door. But no one answers.

Knock knock.

This time, however, a man around fifty, vest on, reaches the door, yawning. 'Who's here at this time?' He mutters, taking his spectacles out of the box. He places them before his eyes. Initially he peers out through the lens of the door but finds no one. Now, he opens the door. Again, there's no one outside . His sleep breaks. He steps out. Suddenly something falls over his face. He is locked in darkness. His specs fall and crack.

After sometime he finds himself in a grand room. Five persons were kneeling in front of him. Two women and three men of about the same age. In their thirties. Their heads were covered with black cloth. He couldn't see any other person before his eyes. So, he turns his gaze over his shoulders to look behind. He sees a boy about twenty-five years old. "Who are you? What is going on here, who has brought me here?" He feels he has seen him somewhere, but he doesn't remember. "Wait, have I seen you before?" he asks.

The person did not say anything.

"And who are these people kneeling in front of me? Will someone speak? What's going on here? Why am I here?" He tries to stand, but his hands are tied to the chair with ropes. He sighs.

"What a chatterbox!" a deep voice rumbles from behind him. He turns, craning his neck to see who's speaking.

A tall man, about twenty-eight, steps forward slowly. He has a bold mustache curled at the corners, a clean-shaven face, and large, dark sunglasses. He's wearing a striped brown shirt, unbuttoned over a white t-shirt, with jeans and pale brown cowboy boots. He stands on his right side.

Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, the tall man leaned in and said, "You forget people so easily. Don't you recognize your companions kneeling before you?"

He motioned to the young man nearby. "Uncover their faces."

The young man stepped forward and removed the coverings from each of the captives' faces. Black tape sealed their mouths, their eyes were swollen and red, and their hair was tangled in disarray. Their throats were parched; desperation filled their expressions. But the man in the sunglasses had other plans.

The fifty-year-old man recognized each of them immediately. They had all worked with him once.

"Do you remember them?" the tall man asked.

"Yes, I do," he replied. "But why have you kidnapped them? And why me? Did we harm you in some way?"

The tall man removed his sunglasses and approached the young man. "Where's the list?" he demanded.

The young man pulled a folded sheet of paper from the left pocket of his jeans. He handed it over, and the tall man unfolded it and stepped closer to the fifty-year-old.

"Did you just ask if you harmed me?" he said, placing his right foot on the chair between the man's thighs. Leaning in close, he struck him hard under the ear. The man's cheeks flushed red, and his fingers trembled.

"Twenty-four rapes, ten poor men murdered, a scam worth crores under a fake insurance policy, and so on," the tall man continued. "And you ask what harm you've done to me?"

"Where did you get all this from? It's all lies. We've never harmed anyone," the fifty-year-old snarled, his voice tight with defiance.

The tall man smirked. "They all say that," he replied, voice low and cold. "But I know exactly how to deal with men like you."

The older man's eyes narrowed. "What are you going to do? Enough with this show. Let us go, or you have no idea what will happen to you."

The tall man's smile widened into a grin, a flash of something dark in his eyes. He stepped forward, so close their noses almost touched. "Happen to me?" he whispered, his tone dripping with menace. "You seem to forget who's the boss here."

"Think again," the fifty-year-old sneered, his smile twisted with malice.

The tall man's face remained stone cold. "I've heard enough," he said quietly. "Take it up in hell." He stepped back and With a sudden, brutal kick to the chest, he sent the older man flying backward. The man crashed hard, skidding across the ground, gasping for air as he came to a stop. The tall man stood still, unwaverred.

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