black cloud ¦ lee haechan

prologue ; 00

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒ 00 ༒ ˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -
Start.

In the dimly lit corridors of the headquarters, he strode with purpose, his footsteps echoing against the cold concrete floor. The faint hum of machinery filled the air, a constant reminder of the organization's ceaseless activities. With practiced ease, he twirled a customized knife between his fingers, its sleek blade catching the glint of artificial light as he moved.

As he rounded a corner, he came upon a group of men huddled together in intense discussion. They fell silent as he approached, acknowledging his presence with subtle nods of respect. He returned the gesture with a curt nod of his own before continuing down the the dimly lit passage, his mind consumed with thoughts of the upcoming operation.

The air grew heavier as he approached the rows of prison cells lining the corridor. Each one housed a different captive, their fates at the mercy of the mafia's whims. With practiced ease, he navigated through the maze of bars until he reached the fourth door on the left.

Unlocking the heavy steel door, he stepped into the dimly lit cell. Inside, a lone figure sat slumped against the wall, his hands bound above his head and a cloth gag tightly secured in his mouth. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was a defiant glint in the man's eyes as he lifted his gaze to meet his.

"So, you're the one who's been causing us trouble," He remarked, his voice cold and authoritative.

The man's gaze lifted, meeting his with a steely determination that sent a chill down his spine. "You...!" he replied, his voice tinged with fear.

His lips curled into a sardonic smirk as he approached, his steps measured and deliberate. "You're a bold one, I'll give you that," he mused, his voice dripping with thinly veiled menace. "But boldness will only get you so far in this world."

The man's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, his jaw clenched in defiance.

He approached him slowly, his footsteps echoing in the cramped space. "You had your chance to settle your debt," he continued, his tone growing more menacing. "But it seems you've chosen to squander it."

With a swift motion, he removed the cloth gag from the man's mouth, allowing him to speak. "I told you, I need more time!" the man protested, his voice tinged with desperation. "I'll get you the money, I swear!"

His expression remained impassive as he regarded the man before him. "You had your chance," he repeated, his voice dripping with malice. "But now, it's too late."

Turning on his heel, he made his way to the door, leaving the man to contemplate his fate in the darkness of the cell. As he exited the room, the sound of the heavy steel door slamming shut reverberated through the corridor, sealing the man's fate.

Outside the cell, a loyal member, awaited him with a grim expression. "What now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We'll give him a chance to enjoy his last moments," He replied, his tone final.

As he ascended the stairs from the basement, his mind churned with ruthless determination. He knew what needed to be done to ensure compliance from the man who dared to defy the boss' authority.

Returning to the cell with his member in tow, his demeanor had shifted. Gone was the cold detachment; in its place, a palpable aura of menace emanated from him. With a nod to his companion, he signaled for him to unlock the door once more.

Entering the dimly lit cell, he advanced towards the bound man with purposeful strides.

He made his way to a nearby table, where an array of implements lay in wait. Each one was designed to inflict maximum pain and suffering, a testament to their ruthless efficiency.

The man's eyes widened in terror as he recognized the tool in his hand, realizing the true extent of the danger he was in. His pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as he advanced, his expression devoid of remorse.

"Please," he begged, the man's voice trembled with fear. "I'll do anything, just don't-"

But his pleas fell on deaf ears as he closed the distance between them, his expression devoid of mercy. With a swift motion, he brought the rod down in a brutal arc, striking the man across the chest with a sickening thud.

The man's screams echoed off the walls, a symphony of agony that reverberated through the cell. Yet, with each blow, his resolve began to crumble, his resistance giving way to a primal instinct for self-preservation.

For hours, the torture continued unabated, each moment punctuated by the sickening sound of flesh meeting metal and the agonized cries of the man at his mercy. And as the darkness of the cell enveloped them, his resolve remained unyielding, his determination to extract payment for the man's transgressions unwavering until the very end.

When he finally emerged from the cell, his clothes stained with blood and his face a mask of grim satisfaction, he knew that he had achieved his objective. The man lay broken and defeated, his spirit shattered by the merciless hand of his captor.

As he ascended from the depths of the basement, the echoes of the man's suffering lingered in the air, a grim reminder of the price of disobedience in the dark world of the criminal underworld. And for him, it was just another day in the life of a man who thrived on the power of fear and intimidation.

"I need a shower," He mutters while taking off his jacket, dropping it unto the garbage can he passed.

-

Continued.