Torture

The aftermath of the fight was evident. The room, which once exuded an air of cold dominance, was now a chaotic mess. Splintered wood from the destroyed furniture lay scattered around, juxtaposed with glints of metal from the many blades that had been thrown around. The plush carpet was now stained with patches of blood and shards of glass sparkled eerily in the moonlight.

From amidst the chaos, a figure slowly began to unmask himself. The black mask, once concealing his identity, was pulled away, revealing the young, yet striking face of Zero. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark circles under his eyes, which radiated a cold, calculated determination. Sweaty strands of hair clung to his forehead, and his usually calm demeanor was replaced with an exhaustion stemming from the night's events.

He let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing on him. Swiftly, he moved to secure Blade, using a strong rope to bind the man's hands and feet, ensuring he couldn't escape. As he hoisted Blade's unconscious form, Zero accessed the man's personal data.

With a concentrated gaze, Zero invoked his 'Focused Insight' ability.

===========================

Name: Martin Blake

Age: 36 years

Power: 29

Intelligence: 29

Stamina: 33

Unique Talent: Blade Talent, Killing, manipulation

===========================

Dumping the incapacitated Blade into the trunk, he turned to Tom, "Find a secluded warehouse, at least 30 minutes away," Zero ordered, his voice hoarse. "And get me gallons of gasoline. Use street kids to get it, remain anonymous, and ensure they pay in cash."

As Tom nodded in understanding, Zero added, "I need to recuperate." The strength and stamina potions he had ingested were wreaking havoc on his young body. The overpowering effects were becoming evident as he leaned against the car, trying to muster the strength for what lay ahead.

Tom's immediate priority was the warehouse. Driving through the quieter streets of the city, he accessed his laptop, connecting with his own private network, Tom begins to find an abandoned warehouse. After a brief search, he got an address: an old, abandoned warehouse in the industrial district. With its previous owners declared bankrupt, it had remained vacant and off the records for years, making it a perfect spot for their clandestine operations.

With the location secured, Tom shifted focus to the gasoline. Aware of Zero's insistence on anonymity, he headed to the more impoverished parts of the city, where street kids usually congregated. After a few minutes, he spotted a trio, their dirty clothes, and empty eyes speaking of countless days and nights on the streets. Rolling down his window, he beckoned them over.

"Want to earn some quick cash?" Tom asked, flashing a wad of bills.

The oldest of the kids, a boy with a scar running across his cheek, eyed Tom suspiciously but nodded. "What's the job?"

"Get me gallons of gasoline. As much as you can carry. Use this money," Tom said, handing over the cash, "And bring the change. You'll get a bonus if you're quick."

The kids glanced at each other, recognizing the potential for a hefty payday. They quickly scattered in different directions, likely to hit up multiple gas stations.

While waiting, Tom retreated to a nearby coffee shop, opting to remain in the shadows, ensuring he wasn't drawing attention. He intermittently glanced at the car, ensuring Blade was still unconscious and undetected.

Within half an hour, the kids returned, their hands full with containers of gasoline. The smell of the fuel was strong, but Tom only cared about the weight and quantity. Satisfied, he handed the scarred boy an extra wad of cash as promised.

"All right, now get lost," Tom said, dismissing them. The kids, grinning ear to ear at their unexpected windfall, scampered away, disappearing into the maze of streets.

Tom loaded the gasoline into the car, placing them securely to avoid any accidental spills. Once done, he woke zero up.

"All set, boss," Tom reported. "Moving to the warehouse now."

Starting the car, Tom headed towards the industrial district.

***

In the dimly lit corridors of the KnifePoint building, an anxious hush had descended. The muted buzz of conversations could be heard, but the general undertone was one of confusion.

A burly lackey, known amongst the ranks as Big Ron, approached Blade's office door. His fingers rapped against the sturdy wood in a familiar rhythm. "Knock knock Boss, are you there?" he called out, his voice a gravelly whisper.

Getting no response, he turned to a fellow gang member, a wiry young man with a scar running down his jawline, who was known simply as Lackey B. "Did you see the boss go anywhere?" Big Ron inquired, the weight of impatience evident in his gaze.

Lackey B shrugged, his face marked with confusion. "No, but earlier, I saw him carrying a bottle of whiskey to his room. Maybe he's passed out or something."

Big Ron let out a heavy sigh, the weight of responsibility evident on his broad shoulders. His hand fumbled to retrieve his phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up to reveal a message from Blade himself, instructing him to return to the base immediately.

He muttered to himself, a mix of annoyance and concern, "You told me to come back fast, boss. Where the hell are you now?"

***

Upon reaching the dilapidated warehouse, the eerie echo of its emptiness consumed them. The high ceilinged structure, with its rotting wood and rusty metal beams, bore the marks of time and neglect. Broken windows allowed the moonlight to filter in, casting a dim illumination across the vast space.

Zero addressed Tom sharply, "Keep an eye on Blade. If he so much as stirs, knock him out or call me." Tom simply nodded in acknowledgment, his face a mask of tension. Zero could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on them both.

With methodical precision, Zero began working on the roof. The twelve 1-liter gasoline cans were strategically placed in a domino formation. Each time Zero uncapped a canister, the sharp, pungent scent of gasoline wafted down, stinging the nostrils. The fumes seemed to rise, filling the air with an impending sense of doom.

Having set up his ominous trail, Zero was returning to the car when he heard it: a muffled, desperate scream emanating from the trunk. Blade was awake. The sound of his struggles was frantic, his voice strained from the gag that bound his mouth.

"You bastards! Release me this instant! You have no idea who you're dealing with!" Blade's voice, despite being distorted by the gag, carried the unmistakable tone of fury and panic.

Zero paused, his face impassive, considering his next move as he watched the car shudder from Blade's desperate attempts to break free.

zero then ripped his shirt, gagging Blade in his mouth using his own shirt, forcing him into it.

'Who are they, and why is this guy so strong,' Trying to remove the gagged using his mouth Blade wondered.

Under the dim light of the moon, Zero tightened his grip on Blade, ensuring the gag was secured. Only faint muffled noises were audible, reminiscent of a wounded animal, each gasp and moan a testament to Blade's fear and desperation. Zero, with a steely resolve, pulled him out of the car with an unexpected strength. With little effort, he tossed Blade near a tree, like a discarded ragdoll, and Blade's disoriented form crumpled against the trunk.

The cold wind whistled through the trees, carrying the scent of gasoline and damp earth. As the rustling leaves played a haunting lullaby, Zero's rage became palpable, filling the space between them. It was a rage born of past wrongs and injustices, one that had been festering, waiting for this very moment.

Zero's shadow loomed large over Blade as he knelt, methodically unfastening each of Blade's shoes, revealing his vulnerable feet. Every calculated movement of Zero's fingers seemed to prolong the inevitable, building the tension and terror to almost unbearable levels. It was the deliberate, cold pace of someone who had been wronged and had waited long for vengeance.

Blade's eyes widened in horror as Zero pulled out a knife, a particularly sharp one from Blade's own collection. A macabre irony that wasn't lost on either of them. The moonlight caught the blade's edge, reflecting a chilling glint. Without a second's hesitation, Zero drove the knife under Blade's toenail, slicing it away with one slow movement, making sure it was as painful as possible. The muffled screams grew more frantic with each toe, the sheer brutality painting a vivid tableau of revenge.

When Zero was done, Blade's once defiant eyes were filled with tears, his face contorted in agony. Gently, Zero removed the gag, revealing a face wet with tears and spit.

"Why?!" Blade managed to croak out between sobs. "What did I ever do to you?"

Zero's face was inches from Blade's, his cold eyes staring deep into Blade's soul. "You know exactly why," he hissed.

Pulling out Blade's phone, Zero's voice was eerily calm, yet dripping with threat, "Password."

At that moment, with the mix of gasoline in the air, the moonlight, and the chilling calm of Zero, the whole setting felt like a scene straight out of a horror film, making Blade realize the true depth of the terror he was in.