Chapter35-No one is born evil

Scar's torture continued relentlessly, each act more brutal than the last. 

He ripped out my fingernails one by one, cut deep into my skin, and dislocated my joints with cruel precision. 

The pain surpassed anything I had ever felt before, each moment stretching into an endless ordeal.

Yet, amid the agony, I held onto a glimmer of hope.

I thought of her, the one to whom I vowed never to surrender, but did so too easily in the past. 

This time, no matter what happens, even if it costs me my life, I will keep that promise.

I will let not let him break him...

I had to endure it all, no matter how much pain it caused me.

"Do you sense it, Michael?" Scar whispered ominously in the dark. "Do you feel the hopelessness setting in? The understanding that no matter how much you struggle, you're entirely in my control? No matter how strong willed you are, your resistance will soon falter."

My eyes blurred with tears, and my body shook with pain and exhaustion. 

I couldn't muster the strength to reply; my mind was a jumble of agony and resolve. 

Yet, even at my lowest, I was determined not to show Scar that he was breaking me.

"You're stubborn, I will give you that," Scar said, his voice tinged with a strange kind of respect. "But everyone has a limit, Michael. Everyone."

Scar stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he considered his next move. 

He picked up a syringe, the needle glinting wickedly in the dim light. 

My heart raced with a new wave of fear as Scar approached, the syringe poised to deliver another dose of torment.

"This is a special blend," Scar said, his voice dripping with malice. "It will amplify your senses, make every bit of pain that much more unbearable. Let's see how long you can last, shall we?"

My body jerked uncontrollably as the drug kicked in, sending waves of intense pain through every part of me. The agony was unbearable, a relentless and overwhelming sensation that felt like it could engulf me completely. I bit my lip hard, tasting blood, struggling desperately to keep my mind intact.

Despite the overwhelming pain coursing through my body, a tiny, determined part of me refused to surrender. 

I remembered my mother and father and the values they instilled in me—kindness and strength.

I didn't value kindness because if you can't even take care of yourself, how can you help others?

I lacked strength because I was particularly lazy, even during school P.E. classes.

I thought of my lover, who always believed in me. 

But, still, I couldn't disappoint them. 

I couldn't allow Scar to prevail.

"You're... a monster," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "But I won't... br... brea-."

Scar's eyes sparked with anger, his cruel enjoyment briefly giving way to rage. "No, you must be broken to truly understand the pain of a poor guy like me, who struggled every day on the city streets just to get a scrap of bread..."

The torture dragged on, each second stretching into an eternity of agony. 

But through every moment, I clung to my humanity, refusing to let the pain overpower me. 

I knew that as long as I held onto hope, as long as I remembered why I was fighting, I could withstand anything.

Even in the worst of Scar's torture, I discovered a faint ray of hope. 

A small, stubborn belief that refused to fade away. 

It was this hope, this steadfast resolve, that kept me going. 

And it would be this hope that would eventually guide me out of the darkness.

"Michael, do you want to hear my story? How I went from being a beggar to becoming a rebel?"

When Scar mentioned "rebel," a realization hit me, momentarily distracting me from the pain. Then the agony returned, flooding my senses once more.

'No, no, no, Michael! Why did you ever cross paths with rebels?' 

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't muster the strength.

If I could find this bod's previous owner, I'd definitely kill him again. 

Who in their right mind messes with rebels?

But I couldn't entirely blame him. When Michael humiliated Scar, they were just teenagers. The real culprit was his luck.

I sighed.

Rebels...

There are two rebel organizations within the Human Domain: TERROR and ECLIPSE.

Both groups have different objectives.

Based on the situation and Scar's behavior, I concluded Scar belonged to the first group.

TERROR is an organization largely made up of criminals. 

Their main goal is to overthrow the current government and its laws. 

Their leader aims to rule the Human Domain with criminals in top positions, causing chaos across the realm.

Scar leaned in close, his eyes locked onto mine with a chilling intensity. "Michael, I want you to understand my story fully before I shatter your mind... But I'm unsure where to begin."

Despite the unbearable pain, I fought to maintain my composure. Every part of me begged for relief, yet I stayed silent.

Steve, one of Scar's friend nearby, chimed in. "Start from the beginning, Scar. Tell him everything."

Scar nodded thoughtfully at Steve's suggestion. "That's a good idea, Steve. Alright then, let's begin..."

As Scar settled into recounting his story, his gaze softened briefly before resuming its intense focus on me. 

His voice took on a measured tone, each word carrying the weight of years of struggle and survival.

"I was born in the heart of the Human Domain, in a district where poverty was a norm rather than an exception. My parents, Mary kapadia and John kapadia, were simple folk who eked out a living through hard work and perseverance. Despite our circumstances, they always found a way to make me smile, to shield me from the harsh realities outside our doorstep."

His eyes clouded with a mixture of fondness and sorrow as he continued, "They were happy, Michael, happier than they had any right to be. Even in our small, cramped home, laughter echoed more often than tears."

Scar paused, collecting himself before continuing with a tremor in his voice, "But...

"Everything changed one fateful night. A criminal, notorious for his cruelty and thirst for power, targeted our neighborhood. Motives were never clear, perhaps just a random act of violence amidst the chaos of the city."

I saw something unbelievable: Scar had tears in his eyes. 

He was crying. 

The monster who tortured me, the monster who tried to break me, was crying.

But even knowing his story, my hatred for him remained and always would.

Tears welled in Scar's eyes as he recounted the horror, "I was just a boy, hidden in a corner, unable to move as I watched him... I watched him take away everything. The sound of their screams haunted me for years."

"After that night, I survived by scavenging whatever I could find on the streets. I reported the murder to a branch of HIST, but they never actually investigated or tried to find the criminal. With no money left because the criminal had looted everything, I became a beggar, spending my days begging for food. It was there that I met Steve, another beggar like me struggling to survive. We banded together out of necessity, forging a bond through our shared hardship."

HIST, huh?

The association controls two agencies: HIST (Hunter's Intelligence and Security Taskforce) and HUNTER (Homeland Unit for National Threat Evaluation and Response).

I always suspected them of corruption. HIST is run by the Federal Association and monitors the state and its cities. 

It's responsible for investigating and enforcing laws, covering a wide range of criminal activities including rebellion, cyber-crime, organized crime, public corruption, rule violations, and violent crime.

But the new leader, appointed by the Federal Association twenty years ago, is corrupt and lazy. 

He's the main reason HIST, which used to be superior to HUNTER, is now inferior. 

He replaced many honest and brilliant officials with his puppets, also known as his bootlickers.

And the result is right in front of us...

With Scar's half-story, I now fully understand why movie villains often say, "No one is born evil; it's just the world that corrupts them."

Scar's expression hardened as he explained, "We became beggars, ignored and scorned by those who passed us by. But Steve, he had a fire in him, a determination to defy the fate that others had set for us."

"One day, we encountered members of TERROR. They saw potential in us, in our desperation and anger. They offered us a chance to fight back, to not just survive but to take control of our destinies."

Scar's eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and bitterness, "We joined TERROR because they promised us power. Power to make a difference, to ensure that no one else suffered like we did. It wasn't just about revenge; it was about justice, about tearing down a system that had failed us."

He paused, the room filled with the weight of his words, "Through TERROR, I clawed my way up. I proved myself, earning respect and authority within the organization. They gave me the means to strike back at those who had wronged us, to reshape the world in our image."

As Scar finished his story, there was a moment of silence...

Scar wiped his tears slowly with his hands and looked at me, his expression hardening once more. "Sorry, Michael, I just got too emotional..."

Steve, who had been standing nearby, chimed in. "Scar, finish up here within 30 minutes. Sunrise is coming, and we have more important things to do today."

Scar's face twisted with irritation. "That soon? I've just started."

Steve shook his head, his tone insistent. "Sorry, Scar, but those are the boss's official orders."

Scar's face changed, a flicker of confusion and concern crossing his features. "Official? What do you mean? How does he know what we're doing?"

Steve sighed. "Sorry again, Scar, but the boss called me five hours ago. I told him what you were doing, and he said he wanted to watch it online. So, I video-called him, and he watched the whole torture."

Steve pointed to his wrist, showing a smartwatch that looked more advanced and it's colour to design, everything was different than mines.

Scar's face paled slightly, and he asked nervously, "Steve, is he still watching?"

Steve shook his head. "No, he hung up a few minutes ago."

Scar's eyes lit up with twisted excitement. "What did he say about the torture? Did I do a good job? Did he enjoy it?"

Steve's lips curled into a devilish smile. "Yeah, he liked it. No need to worry."

Scar turned his gaze back to me, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "Sorry, Michael, we have to finish our play here." He then looked at Steve. "Give me that sword."

Steve drew a sword from a hilt placed on a nearby boulder and handed it to Scar. Scar positioned himself, raising the sword high above his head, its blade glinting menacingly in the dim light.

"Michael," Scar asked, his voice dripping with malice, "any last wishes?"