Leads From A Captive

There was tension all around as Turai made his way through the bright streets of the town. His destination was clear in his mind - the hideout of the second group that had attacked the orphanage on that fateful day when Mrs. Benson was knocked unconscious. He had extracted their location from one of their members during their last encounter, a piece of information he had held onto for just such an occasion.

As Turai approached the dilapidated building that served as their base, an eerie silence fell over the area. The few men standing guard outside felt a chill run down their spines as they caught sight of the blood-soaked figure emerging from the horizon. They didn't need to be told who it was - Turai's reputation preceded him.

Inside, word spread quickly of the boy's arrival. This group had suffered fewer casualties in their last encounter with Turai, but they had heard whispers of what had happened to their counterparts. Their former leader's dying words echoed in their minds: "Don't cross paths with that boy again." It was advice they had fully intended to heed.

As Turai stepped into the dim light of their hideout, the assembled thugs instinctively took a step back. His eyes, cold and unyielding, swept across the room before he spoke.

"Where is the hideout of those bastards who had the guts to launch that attack on the orphanage?" Turai's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of barely contained fury that made even the hardened criminals flinch.

For a moment, no one dared to speak. Then, perhaps driven by self-preservation, one of the men stepped forward. "We... we don't know exactly," he stammered, "but we have someone who might."

At a nod from their current leader, two men disappeared into a back room. They returned moments later, dragging a bound and gagged figure between them. As they threw the man to the floor at Turai's feet, a flicker of recognition passed across the boy's face.

Turai's expression, already grim, turned absolutely glacial. He knew this man - one of the individuals who had first come to purchase the orphanage, one of those he had warned never to return or make any moves against his home.

The captive's eyes widened in terror as he recognized Turai.

"Hmm! Hmmm!!" He began to struggle against his bonds, muffled sounds of panic escaping through his gag. He knew, with sickening certainty, that they had crossed a line from which there was no return.

Turai approached the man slowly, his movements deliberate and predatory. With a quick motion, he removed the gag. "Where is your hideout?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

The man hesitated, fear warring with loyalty to his organization. It was a hesitation he would quickly come to regret.

"Let's make this fun, shall we?" Turai asked but didn't wait for a response.

In a move so swift it was almost imperceptible, Turai grasped the man's left arm. There was a sickening pop, followed by a wet tearing sound as Turai yanked the limb clean out of its socket.

"Ahhh! My arm! My fucking arm!!" The man's scream of agony echoed through the room, causing even the hardened thugs to wince.

Without missing a beat, Turai conjured a ball of flame in his hand. The captive's eyes widened in horror as Turai calmly pressed the fire against the bleeding wound, cauterizing it. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, accompanied by renewed screams of pain.

"Stop! Just stop! Please, I'll talk! I'll do anything you say. Just stop it! Ahhh!" The man pleaded, his voice filling the silence in the room.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity to the tortured man, Turai released his grip. "I'll ask once more," he said, his hand moving to grasp the man's remaining arm. "Where is your hideout?"

This time, there was no hesitation. The words tumbled out of the man's mouth in a rush, driven by pain and fear. "The heart of town," he gasped, "under the grand motel. But be careful - our boss, he's a magic user. Powerful. Dangerous."

Turai's grip tightened slightly, prompting the man to continue. "We... We don't know where the kids are. But I know who does. We contracted two other groups for the kidnapping. I can tell you where to find them."

"One of the group is located just a few blocks away from our base and the other one is just around the town's entrance. If the kids are anywhere, they should be there." As the man spilled the locations of the other thug groups, Turai's expression remained unchanged.

When the captive finally fell silent, having divulged every piece of information he possessed, Turai released his arm and stood.

Without a word, he turned and walked towards the exit. The assembled criminals parted before him, none daring to meet his eye. As he reached the door, Turai paused for a moment. He didn't turn around, but his words carried clearly to every ear in the room.

"If I find out any of you have lied to me or withheld information," he said, his voice as cold as a midwinter night, "I will be back. And what happened here tonight will seem like a mercy compared to what I'll do then."

With that, he was gone, leaving behind a room full of shaken men and one broken, whimpering captive. As if planned, they all sighed in unison. Turai's departure made it easier for them to breath afterall.

As Turai stepped out into the streets again, his mind was already racing, processing the information he had gathered. The grand motel at the heart of town - he knew it well. It was a place of luxury, frequented by the few wealthy and powerful individuals that occasionallydecide to visit their town. The idea that it could be concealing a criminal hideout was shocking, but not entirely surprising. Corruption, he had learned, often wore a gilded mask.

The warning about the boss being a magic user gave him pause. Turai was confident in his own abilities, but he knew better than to underestimate an opponent, especially one with unknown magical capabilities. He would need to approach this confrontation with caution and strategy. Or not. He was no ordinary magic user after all. At times like this, absolute power was all that mattered and he had that.

And then there were the other two groups involved in the kidnapping. More leads to follow, more potential sources of information about the missing children. Turai felt a mixture of hope and frustration. He was getting closer to his goal, but time was of the essence. Every moment that passed was another moment the children were in danger.

As he made his way through the streets, Turai allowed himself a moment of introspection. The ease with which he had resorted to torture troubled him. It was effective, yes, but at what cost to his own humanity? Deep within, there was a part of him that felt genuine pleasure each time he did such. Why?

However, he pushed the thought aside. There would be time for moral quandaries later. Right now, the children needed him.

Unknown to Turai, help was closer than he realized. Hubert and Marin had just arrived in town, racing as fast as they could toward the branch of the Wanderers Order.