I lean against the railing, savoring the metallic scent of fear and blood that permeates the air. There’s a unique satisfaction in watching desperation transform people, stripping away their pretenses of morality until nothing remains but their true nature. Some break immediately. Others fight it. The resistance is what makes this entertaining.
The executive with the family catches my eye. Tears stream down his face as he presses the blade against his subject’s forearm. His hand trembles, weakness incarnate.
“Deeper,” I call out, my voice echoing through the warehouse. “She can’t feel it unless you mean it.”
His eyes meet mine, pleading for mercy I don’t possess. I raise an eyebrow, and he complies, pressing until crimson wells around stainless steel. The woman screams. Music to my ears.
How fascinating, watching someone destroy themselves to save themselves. The paradox never gets old.
“Fifteen minutes remaining,” I announce, checking my watch unnecessarily. The announcement is merely to increase their panic.
Penn sidles up beside me. “Number eight looks promising.”
I follow his gaze to a woman working, her face devoid of emotion as she carves patterns into her sobbing subject’s chest. She hasn’t asked a single question yet, causing pain for its own sake. Intriguing.
“Note that one,” I murmur. “She understands the real purpose.”
Because this isn’t about information, it’s about seeing who can become the monster we need them to be.
I feel nothing as I watch these strangers suffer. Their pain exists solely for my entertainment and evaluation. Their lives are mine to redirect or destroy, pieces on my board.
A man collapses, vomiting onto the concrete after cutting too deep. Pathetic. I signal to Grayson, who efficiently removes the failure and his still-screaming victim.
“Thirteen,” I announce, enjoying how the single word sends fresh panic through the remaining candidates.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. A message from Aurora.
You’re insane. Stay away from me.
I smile. Her resistance only heightens my determination. I type a response, deliberate with each word.
You came for me. I watched you surrender. We both know what you want.
I slip my phone away, returning my attention to the bloodied warehouse floor. Three candidates have retrieved the correct information, standing apart from the others with vacant expressions. It’s the first sign they’re becoming what we need.
Number eight, the woman Penn noticed, approaches her subject without hesitation. She’s extracted nothing but has inflicted extraordinary pain. When she finally asks her first question, the subject immediately gives up the location. Interesting technique—pure terror before interrogation.
“Time,” I announce, causing panicked movements from those still working. “Step away from your subjects.”
As the candidates form a line, I walk before them, studying faces streaked with blood and sweat. My phone buzzes again, but I ignore it. Aurora can wait.
I study the remaining thirteen candidates; blood splattered across their skin like modern art. Some stand tall with colddetachment in their eyes—potential. Others tremble, unable to meet my gaze.
“Candidates three and seven, step forward.”
They move with hesitation, fear evident in every step. Candidate three still clutches his knife, knuckles white. Seven’s hands shake uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face.
“You were the slowest to extract information,” I state, voice devoid of emotion. “More importantly, you showed reluctance when faced with necessity.”
“Please,” Seven whispers. “I have a family.”
I smile. “You should have considered them before wasting our time.”
Penn approaches with swift efficiency, placing a gun in my outstretched hand. The metal feels cool against my palm, an extension of my will. I raise it without hesitation.
“Wait—” Three begins.
The shot echoes through the warehouse. Three crumples to the floor, a perfect hole between his eyes. Seven falls to his knees, sobbing.
