Blood Evolution

The night was settling in. The moon comfortably watching us from above. Workers were heading home to their families. Street lamps lazily flickered on and off. The usual routine. But here I was, running. Running for my life. Running through the blistering cold streets. The northern air cutting into the slashes on my face and the deafening howls of the wind screamed in my ear. I could feel every fibre of the rough leather suitcase in my left hand. The cause of this agonising event. How I wish I could just throw this damn thing off a bridge.

I quickly look over my shoulder to estimate the distance between me and my pursuers. 50 metres.

I can see them shouting at me. What they're saying? No idea. All I hear is the wind and my own heartbeat thumping ever so loudly.

The road splits into two a few meters in front of me. Gripping the case tighter, I make a sharp turn to the left, heading straight into the dense trees ahead.

The illuminations of the city lights slowly dimmed the further I went. Finally, as the last speck of light could no longer be seen, I leaned on the trunk of a thick oak tree, catching my breath. The suitcase thumped down onto the ground beside me, the sound muffled by the cluster of leaves below.

Estimating using the location of the moon above me, I could tell it was already approximately 10 pm. 3 days since this chase began. 3 days since I was entrusted the mysterious suitcase by the only person I called friend. 3 days since I had the time to fucking sleep.

I could feel the fatigue catching up to me as I yawned and stretched my arms, my eyelids becoming heavy, every muscle in my body telling me to sleep.

---

The glimpse of the morning sun rose as I suddenly felt a bucket of freezing cold water being dumped on my face.

The welcoming sight of 10 intimidating men stood around me as I attempted to move my arms only to find it tightly bound behind me.

"Where is it?" The man holding the now-empty bucket broke the silence, throwing the bucket behind him.

"Where's what?" I feigned my innocence as I scanned the abandoned warehouse for an escape route.

"There's no way out. So tell us where you put the suitcase." He walked up to me with his arms crossed.

With a sudden realisation, I quickly looked around in confusion. The suitcase was gone. I didn't have it.

I looked back at the guy.

"I don't know," I replied in all honesty.

The man looked back at the other nine people and nodded his head, "A-5, bring it in."

One of them grinning as he headed out the door and quickly came back with a moderate-sized metal cart filled with clamps and dangerous-looking devices.

"Well, you see," He slowly walked over to the cart and pondered for a second before taking a small hefty-looking tool in his hand. "We don't quite believe you."

A cold sweat ran down my neck as I realised what they were planning.

"So either make it easy for the both of us and tell us now," He looked down at the plier looking tool, opening and closing the prongs a few times and looked back up. "Or let us have some fun and tell us later," He revealed a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I really don't know," I muttered, tugging my arm cautiously at the rope.

"Guess we're doing it the hard way," He walked up behind me and grabbed one of my hands tightly.

"Left or right?" He asked, "Guess it doesn't really matter,"

He gripped my right hand and I felt something gripping tightly onto my index finger.

"One more chance," I heard him say, but the beating of my terrified heart overshadowed his words.

CRACK

The instant unforgettable pain pierced through my body as I felt my eyes widening and an uncontrollable scream escaped from my mouth.

"There's still 9 more," I heard the man say emotionlessly as he let go of the finger and moved on to the next one.

"I said I don't know!" I gasped out between breaths, staring daggers into the 9 men watching carelessly.

CRACK

Another bout of screams echoed out and the sensation of another finger faded.

"Speak."

The unbearable cycle continued till the sun set below the horizon as my 10 torn fingers and toes littered the ground below.

My consciousness was kept awake by the occasional bucket of water. With all my fingers and toes cut off, the men had changed their approach. Creating freshly made wounds with a knife everywhere on my body and either throwing salt at me or when they were bored, tasering it continuously. With endless streams of blood pouring out of the thousands of holes in my body, I could hear the constant high pitch ringing in my ear as I felt my end is near.

"A-1, He's in Code Black." One of the men suddenly called out to the torturer, patting him on the back.

"Discard of the body," The man sighed as he stopped making this salt painting on my raw back, wiping his sweat with his arm, his clothes splattered with blood.

"Understood," I heard one of the men reply as I took my last breath, my heart slowing to a stop.

—————

The feeling of pain had disappeared. The feeling of anything had disappeared.

I slowly opened my eyes as I looked around. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Is this the afterlife?" I muttered, looking down to see that I couldn't see my hands nor the rest of my body.

"Sen Lirench. Died at the young age of 19. Do you have any regrets?" A deep rusty voice suddenly echoed out in all directions.

"Who?" I spun around in surprise, trying to locate the voice..

"Son of Arin Lirench and Rondal Lirench. Do you have any regrets?" The voice called out again.

A small frown slowly arched on my forehead as I heard the names of my parents. My abusive alcoholic drunkard bastards of a parent. The names of the parents I've thrown away the moment I ran from home 5 years ago.

"Who are you?" I shouted in weary.

"Traitor of the Grim Huntsman Group. Do you have any regrets?"

My frown deepened as I shouted back, "I'm not a traitor! I was simply returning a favour!"

However, the voice did not reply and simply continued.

"Reaper of 32 lives. Do you have any regrets?"

Becoming frustrated at the questions and the stupid titles given to me, I took a deep breath and replied, "Yes I do."

The question came to a halt before a different question was asked.

"What do you regret?"

I slowly pondered the question before looking up with determination. "Being weak. Being cowardly."

"If you were given a second chance at life. Do you wish to be strong?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"At any cost?"

"Yes!" I confirmed.

"Very good." I heard a small chuckle break from the emotionless voice.

"Can I ask a question?" I spoke out, "Are you God?"

A loud bout of laughter echoed through the void as the voice quickly gathered its composure.

"I assure you I am not the one you call God."

"Then who are you?" I asked again.

"If fate allows it, you will learn in time," The voice smiled as it slowly faded and I suddenly felt a pull gripping me from below.

"I wish you luck, young warrior."