The Man Called Void

        VOID  

I hardly paid any attention to his face as I picked another needle. "Two weeks ago, when I tried listening to it for the first time, I almost dozed off. I can never understand what people see in music. She really doesn't make it easy for me."

I inserted the needle into his middle finger, earning another cry from him. Now, this was good music. The only one I loved. Oh—as well as my sister's cry. I've been anticipating it, and soon, I'll have her singing it to me, endlessly.

"Do you understand the damage going on right now?" I zeroed my eyes on the needle, finding delight from how it pierced into the broken skin of his fourth finger, drawing blood. "I'm hurting your tendons and ligaments. Soon, you'll experience swelling and won't be able to move your fingers. Know what tendons and ligaments are?" I tilted my head to the side, staring into his face, but the fucker was too busy whimpering to pay any attention to my words.

I slid the final needle into his thumb. All done.

Blood pooled at the base of his fingers, staining his skin in vivid crimson streaks.

"Where is Yuri?" I asked with a clinical detachment.

"Please...! Please, I don't know—"

I sighed, bored of his pathetic attempts. When will they understand that the word 'please' meant absolutely nothing to me? Nada. Zilch. Why else do they call me Void?

I straightened up, dashing to the table to grab my scalpel which gleamed under the sputtering light.

"Please! Why are you doing this? The team is already broken. Yuri's family doesn't exist anymore. Myself, I was on my way out of the country when your men caught me. What more do you want?" Spittle escaped his mouth as he yelled, his panic making his words uneven.

"Yuri," I said calmly, not looking at his face as I tore the remnant of his shirt off his trembling body.

Yes, Yuri's group was shattered and crumbled into ash just like I wanted, but in the process, I'd lost four of my people. Now, that wasn't a loss I could forgive. I needed Yuri to pay in pieces, slowly, exquisitely.

"He should've left when I warned him to four weeks ago," I said, the scalpel in my hand drawing an invisible line across his chest, outlining a path I would carve.

"Why? You really think you can successfully eliminate every member of the Underworld?"

"Yes." My eyes never left the surface of his chest. "You want to know why? Because you and your kind aren't allowed here. I thought I must've been clear enough over the years."

He closed his eyes, clearly feeling pain from the needles still stuck in his fingers.

"Please! I—I tried to convince Yuri to leave, but he wouldn't listen."

I shrugged. "Too bad."

The scalpel pressed into his chest, slicing between the ribs, deep enough to puncture the membranes surrounding his lungs.

Dubrov's breath hitched, his scream catching in his throat. His body spasmed against the restraints, but they held firm.

"Damn it, please!" He choked out.

"Void and your fellow maggots can never coexist," I continued. "When will you get that?"

Pulling out my knife, I returned to the table to select a small glass bottle from my collection.

My torture collections were my favorite accessories. Sometimes, I pity people who fawn over jewelry and the rest. Why couldn't they see the beauty in these weapons?

"Capsaicin," I said, reading out the label on the bottle as I stood before Dubrov. "Know what it'll do to you? To the wound on your chest?"

I opened the bottle. "It'll sting and activate your pain receptors." Tilting the bottle over the incision, I let the liquid drip slowly, agonizingly, onto the raw flesh.

Dubrov's scream tore through the air like a siren. His body convulsed against the chair as if it could escape the pain coursing through him.

"It'll feel like numerous small needles are puncturing your skin all at once," I further said, explaining exactly what he was feeling. "And when you're over the initial shock, the pain will throb with each heartbeat."

"Oh, please!!!" His voice shredded with raw anguish.

Dubrov wasn't this pathetic three weeks ago. Back then, he was one of Yuri's loyal men, running errands and spilling blood for the dog family.

These men... they were worse than the Mafia, so I couldn't call them that. Their activities involved assassinations, sale of drugs, kidnapping, prostitution rings, organ harvesting and a lot more horrible activities you could imagine.

They were known as the Men of the Underworld.

I had no business with their activities. I wasn't a saint—and have no intention of ever becoming one—so I didn't give a fuck about the lives they took or the ugly things they did. I just didn't want to share my territory with them.

And the interesting part? My territory was endless. It was wherever I said it was.

After learning that some men of the Underworld were responsible for the destruction of my family sixteen years ago, I grew to detest them. I wanted them to fear and worship me, and I've spent a good number of years seeing that through.

I didn't become The Torturer by playing torturous music—like Rali. I became the Torturer because I inflicted unimaginable pain on people.

I've always had a certain interest in the human body and considered it a blessing that I got to study more on it. It was easy... and interesting.

No matter how difficult a man was, he wouldn't survive in a room with me for five minutes without breaking. I've brought the mightiest men to their knees in seconds. I've disabled the strongest Underworld groups in only a couple of weeks.

Initially, when I started, they thought it was a joke. The first Underworld group leader I'd sent a warning letter to, ten years ago, asking him to evacuate had tossed my letter in the bin, thinking it was some child's game.

But then, I attacked him. Since it was my first attack, it took a little longer to accomplish.

First, I had to stalk him and hack into his systems to constantly know his next move. I finally got him in a location where it was easy to shoot him with a sniper from a rooftop. The location was supposed to be private, but he had no idea there was a seventeen year old hacker that had messed with his devices.

His name was Big Tuna, and he was the first Underworld Master I had killed.

Well, not really the first, but the first I'd killed as a mission.

I went on from there, coming up with various unpredictable strategies to take out the others, and in a couple of years, my reputation was known all over the Underworld. I'd disabled so many groups by taking out their leaders that the others started going into hiding.

These Underdogs who once ruled the country were now in hiding, because of me.

Sure, I was on a thousand hit list, but it's been ten years and none of them have been able to get me. None of them even knew what I looked like. And well, that was because the few who had gotten to see me were those I ended up killing.

It was exactly as I wanted—become the one they feared. Show the fuckers that I was a god and they had no choice but to worship at my feet. Well, not literally as I wouldn't let them near my feet. I wanted them gone forever.

I sealed the bottle of Capsaicin, returning it to the table. Dubrov had cried so hard, his voice had started to crack.

"Where is he?" I asked, my back still turned to him and my voice growing more grave.

"I swear, I don't know!" He cried, then quickly added. "B—But I know where you can find him."

His breaths were uneven, dragging in jagged gasps as if each one might be his last. The man was slowly bleeding to death but was too scared to even realize it.

I turned around, leaning my back against the table. Absently, I itched my right brow, touching the stud ring I had pierced into it.

"Before we parted ways, I overheard him talking about meeting someone for fake passports. He—He wants to leave the country, and according to what I heard, the passports should be ready by tomorrow." He swallowed hard. "I—I know who he's meeting and can lead you to him. You find this man before tomorrow, you find Yuri."

A frosty smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

...

Few more minutes and I was done with Dubrov.

I walked out of the room to find Eric and Miles waiting not far from the door—as expected.

"How did it go?" I asked Miles, holding out my hand and waiting for him to drop the keys in it.

I didn't miss a step the whole time.

"I had someone watch her like you requested and ensured she got home safe," he answered, falling into step beside me.

I said nothing else as we walked out of the building and towards my car parked outside.

I didn't bother asking about the ratbag she was supposed to meet up with because I knew he must've been well taken care of.

Opening the front door, I slid into the car. "Work on the information Dubrov gave. I need it done before morning." I said to the two of them.

I didn't need to ask to know they'd been listening by the door.

"Yes, boss. Anything else you need?" Eric asked.

Out of the hundreds of people anonymously working for me, Eric and Miles were my closest and the only ones that knew my face. Well, and Katya. But she wasn't here now.

I didn't give a response as I turned on the ignition and hit the road.

Time to pay my little sister a visit.