A/N: Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Warning- RAPE, GRAPHIC TORTURE, NAUGHTY WORDS

ACT 1

Chapter 1:

A lone boy, sat there, his feet crossed and his arms tightened tightly together by a moon-white strafe-jacket, whose’ buckles were tightly wrapped around his sleeves. His feet were bare and covered with scratches, bruises and gashes that- although covered by clothes- raced up his lower legs onto his thighs. Upon his face was a mask- not a simple hockey mask, nor one from a Halloween decoration. Its base was a matte carbon black, its edges roughed and its texture crinkled but still clearly visible. It was shaped narrow and sharp at the chin and sides, whilst at the forehead, three spines jutting outwards slightly began at his scalp and ended above the eye lenses. The eye lenses were so dark that they even outmatched the blankness of the carbon finish of the base. They were short but long, stretching out a few inches after his actual eyes ended. Around the eyes and leading down to the chin was a white skull- not a smooth finish, but charred and rotten- visible dentures and scars scattered all over it. And around the jaw, where the teeth should’ve been aligned, was marks- like a tally, obviously etched in by finger nail or something alike in crudeness. There was 12 marks, aligned in a crescent smile shape. It was the twelve times he had attempted to commit suicide. All unique, all different, but each one with the same motive: to end the pitiful thing called life he lived.

The room he sat in, had no windows and no openings. It was a grey concrete colour, its texture unrefined and bruised- as if beaten by the elements despite its enclosed environment. Across the walls, were labelled various words ranging from “End the pain” to “Kill me now”- presumably left over from the previous occupants. The cubical room was around 5 meters by 5 meters, with no artificial nor natural lights to fight against the darkness which forcibly occupied the room. In front of the boy, was a single door- only detectable or noticeable by the minute amount of light which seeped in via the cracks.

Constant screams and squeals of agony were heard outside- each one sounding like the betrayed screech of a tortured soul. Who they belonged to? The boy did not know nor even hear. In fact, they were the voices of convicts and disgusting criminals alike. But the boy could not hear them. Well, for the first 6 months he would quiver and cower in the corner as if the walls were made of brittle lead and the others could break in, but after a while, you could say that “Insanity” crept in, and overcame him. Well not insanity to the normal eye- but rather his body gave up trying to protect itself and collapsed giving up on even trying to listen to the screams. They were simply whispers, occasionally fading in and out from existence. Although he could not notice it, but even now he had soiled himself four times from terror and fear. If he would have access to his arms, they would be shivering too much to move. His limbs had become weak and brittle due to lack of movement- his brain become broken, warped from the disgusting conditions he had lived in for over 2 years making him 15.

He had become even weaker than the day his parents were killed and his sister taken from him.

(Flashback)

*

“Arthur Powell. 12 years old, father from Japan, and mother from America. 5”6, small body frame, and allergies to nuts.” Said a middle aged man, with thick spectacles, and a bushy grey moustache. He wore a white and purple checked shirt, with his tie loosened around his neck; signifying that he had yet another long day at work. Despite his overwhelming fatigue, that not even a coffee could conquer, his eyes shone with a resilient glimmer- something that had always made him special in his specific line of work.

He was one of the only ‘good’ cops left. Good as in not crooked or one who could succumb to bribery or persuasion, from the filthy dirt that modern day’s Tokyo is. But as for those who worked around him, they had either left to join the various much better paying syndicates, or joined the government funded anti-Vampire and demon forces. To eradicate a lost cause. The demons have gotten too much of a strong hold on Tokyo. In fact this city had become so diverse and so filled with crime that it was the second most plagued city in the world, shortly after Detroit, in the states.

He threw the bundle of tattered papers he was reading, across the table, narrowly missing an ashtray complexly submerged in cigarettes.

He sighed and turned to the man with black hair and a stern face next to him.

“Johnny, it’s your turn today, see what the fuck is wrong with this kid.” The spectacled man spoke.

To be frank, he had no more effort to be looking into a case with a freak of a life form like this. He and his small team took so many jobs, that they often worked much past their shifts, despite not being government or tax paid. Their team was much less appealing than the fancy ones, used in the more richer part of Asia, funded by the government. Instead this police state, was simply funded by clients who most of the time, were criminals themselves.

But the spectacled man had lost it, in the sense that he had not much left in him. After his daughter was killed, 10 years ago, he had been forced into joining a police force, to eradicate those who have polluted this city. But after solving or giving up on so many cases, it would seem that this kid finally did it. A 12 year old, killing both his parents, and possibly kidnapping his younger sister?!  Disgusting. And the boy seems to show no regret either.

The black haired man, grunted and took of his suit blazer revealing his white shirt underneath.

“Is he a demon?” Johnny asked.

“Thankfully, doesn’t seem like it.”

The man nodded and then proceeded to take a small knife, whose blade was jammed into the flesh of the table.

The spectacled man saw this and sighed, “Johnny, is it really necessary to interrogate a 12 year old?”

“A 12 year old, who’s murdered his parents, King.” He bluntly responded, his eyes rolling.

Johnny and his team would often address the head detective, Frank King, by his surname as a sign of respect.

Frank remained silent then spoke, “Your right; he’s a freak.”

Johnny slowly walked into the corridor, opposite the room they just sat in. He turned a sharp right, and then proceeded through a steel door, unlike the wooden ones around it.

He opened it, and the boy sat at the opposite end of a table, his hands cuffed to the table’s leg was the kid. His head was left to hang and his face was looking to the floor.

Johnny walked forward slowly, without alerting the child, and then suddenly, slammed the butt of his knife into the table so hard that the table nearly collapsed. Arthur let out a small gasp and his head shot upwards.

Johnny slightly recoiled at how dirty and scarred the boy’s face was. But he immediately steeled himself. Despite his looks, he was a cold blooded killer.

Johnny swivelled the wooden chair around and jumped on it, settling himself the opposite way, so that the back of the chair faced the boy and his legs wrapped around it.

He spoke out in a gruff voice, “Im going to ask you one question. You are going to answer it. If you lie, you’re going to get hurt. You know why? Because you have no one to help you. No lawyer or attorney. Well you are a kid.” The man chuckled slightly and then continued.

“Did you, kill, your parents?” He spaced out each word carefully for the youth to hear.

The boy remained silent, but it was obvious that he was shivering.

“YOU DEAF?!” The man’s voice suddenly escalated and the knife he was holding, slammed down into Arthur’s hand.*

(End of Flashback)

Arthur’s eyes snapped open, his forehead stuck in a cold sweat.

These happened often. Too often. And they hurt. As he thought this another one struck, sending his whole body into a spasming fit.

(Flashback)

*

“Oi, faggot, do you think you can be rude to big daddy?” Snarled someone.

“No-no, I was just-“

Arthur wheezed out blood as he felt a fist pummel into his stomach, so hard and fast that tear droplets formed at the corner of his eyes. He dropped to his knees which were shaking os much that he could not stand up back up. Blood trickled out of his nose, and he felt vomit broil deep within.

Another lanky boy sneered at the pathetic weasel below him and then took out something from his sock. It was a cutlery knife, which he had managed to smuggle out of the staff kitchen. He took it out and flashed it around, as if he was proud of what he had accomplished. The knife stolen accompanied the various scars and wounds that tattered his ugly face. His hair was also blonde and let loose at the sides. It was unkempt and uneven. Just like his personality.

The person who had just punched him was short and stocky, with a faded haircut. His dark brown hair was spikey on top and extremely greasy; however his face, if left to heal from its injuries could one day grow into a handsome man. In fact both of them could be handsome if their scars, injuries and revolting personalities healed.  

And the man standing behind them, watching the scene from a comfortable position was gigantic to say the least. Despite him being 15, he was roughly 6” and over 130 kilograms. His thighs could’ve been as thick as small tree trunks, and the look on his masculine face radiated hostility and a disgusting mixture of vile feelings. All four wore orange jumpsuits with number plates on it.

They were in fact, in a small room, clustered with dirty dishes and cutlery in multiple sinks lined up on a dirty tiled desk opposite them. ‘Big daddy’ sat on a small plastic chair that seemed to creak and quiver under the massive weight of the boy who sat upon it. It was the cleaning room for the ‘camp’s’ diner. The ‘camp’ was a nickname that the inmates used for the co-ed prison for under 18’s in Tokyo. It was split up into two parts: females and males, and was home to many of the disrespectful and scum of the city. The two parts were further split into two parts, one for the small time offenders and one for the big. Arthur and those with him are of course in the big time offenders. Being the lawless place it is, most of the time, there was only the bare minimum staff to run the place, and most of the time, the biggest and worst of inmates were given temporary jobs to run the divisions within the camp. Since they had no place out of prison to go to, this was a chance to essentially work in the prison, but also be a prisoner. Big daddy was one of those; the ‘Scrum Lords’. This position was delegated by head of the camp: the infamous ‘Double 0’, so clearly nicknamed after his signature, to brand offenders with their personal brand. Double 0 was his own personal brand, meaning that in his youth, he also attended this hell hole. But the majority of the time, if he wasn’t in his penthouse, with his strippers and druggie friends, he was abusing and torturing the prisoners who attended here.

Unless the ‘annual’ inspections made from government officials, who were either brave enough or foolish enough to visit such a place, then Double 0 would be on his best behaviour and scrounge about any number of staff to make them look good, so they weren’t temporarily shut down.

The epitome of being corrupt.

This was Arthur’s second year of being here meaning he was 14. The youngest, and weakest off the entire prison. And this was no exaggeration; during the annual pit fights, hosted by yours truly: the scrum lords, Arthur was forced to fight against even the girls. The result, beaten to the point of his entire body being paralyzed for 3 months. But, instead of Double 0 taking him to the camp’s shitty hospital, or any public ones still standing, he said this:

“Common, it ain’t that bad, kiddo? How about I give you accommodation as repayment?”

He was hidden, in the camp’s lowest level, for half a year, with not nearly enough nutritional substance to survive. He was forced to consume unspeakable things to survive. All of this to avoid the public eye. To avoid being caught doing what was so clearly wrong. At the end of the period he was so weak and frail, that he could not support his own body for a while.

Arthur shouted out as he felt his chin get kicked and sent flying onto the floor, sideways, since his hands were tied behind his back.

The tall blonde one giggled, “You’re so lucky the other 3 ain’t here, fag.  You’d be suffering from so much more.”

Arthur shivered because he knew that was right. The other 3 was 2 girls and 1 boy. The boy, Alex, was so sadistic, that even the thought of him sent shivers down his spine. The other 2 girls, both were beautiful but one of them much more deadly than the other. The dangerous girl was manipulative, scary and smart whilst the other was calculating and silent but never did anything personally to Arthur.

“Oi, Big Daddy, I think it’s time!” The shorter one said- his name was Derek and the other was called Oscar.

Big Daddy’s name? Even his henchmen did not know.

Big Daddy laughed and said in a thunderous voice, “I do believe so!”

Oscar nodded thoroughly and then proceeded to take out a piece of cloth, which obviously had stains of blood on it from before. He tossed it across the room and Big Daddy caught it mid-flight without even looking.

“Derek, take his top off and you two leave.” Big Daddy spoke.

Arthur’s eyes bulged open and he spoke in a crackling voice, “Wh-why.” He stopped midsentence as he was slapped across the face by Derek who was now ripping his upper torso segment. As he tore it off, everyone slightly gasped at how big Arthur’s brand was compared to theirs. Most people’s brand’s ranged from the size of a coin, to a size of a small paper. However, upon Arthur’s back which was less broad then a 14 year old girl’s, was a brand that was at least 16 inches wide and 17 inches tall. It was a skull, slightly transparent but submerged in blue flames, flames which carried on further down, converging at one point, a few centimetres below the skull’s chin. Like a ghost’s tail. Unknowing to even Arthur, it was the designated signia of someone below the age of 15, who have committed homicide but showed no signs of remorse or guilt after. A true monster.

As Derek and Oscar walked out, Derek whispered to himself, “How come this faggot gets a special brand?”

Big daddy grabbed Arthur by the neck and forcefully positioned him so that his face pressed sideways against the wall, his back arched downwards and his buttocks spread upwards. Big Daddy laughed and then grabbed both of Arthur’s arms, twisting his wrists and brought them behind his back whilst maintaining his iron grip.

Arthur could hear his whisper, “No point screaming for help because no one will hear ya!”

Using his other arm, Big Daddy got the cloth and wrapped it around Arthur’s face, so that part of it was in his mouth, essentially gagging him. And since Big Daddy’s gigantic hand held tight around the noose of the cloth, Arthur couldn’t crane his neck.

Big daddy heard Arthur’s muffled screams and could feel his wriggling under his powerful paws and was delighted how easy it was to fondle a ‘little mammal’. Arthur’s eyes swivelled to the very corner of his eyeball, and slowly a tear rolled down as he saw the disgusting, vile giant behind him drop his pants.

“no, please, no.”*

(End of Flashback)

Arthur was still on the floor, twitching and convulsing as yet another painful fit struck his entire body, mercilessly.

(Flashback)

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

*

Arthur stood there, his chest rising and falling at an extreme pace, and his palms accumulating sweat, that rolled down from his frail arms. The bucket, filled with musty water, was now besides him, on the floor and directly right from the slightly opened doorway. In his left arm, was a mop that he supported across his chest from dropping down and alerting others of his position.

Arthur licked his dry lips and shuffled his feet ever so lightly until he heard from in the room;

“Have you brought my blood meal?”

Arthur knew that there was people in that room but he had assumed they were guards, and his presence was unwelcome. But he recognised that voice too clearly! It was…the girl- the second in command, behind ‘Big Daddy’, of the group! The cold and dangerous beauty, Violet- her purple dyed hair, and her sharp gaze could seduce but also kill any man. Her clothes were also unique, specially made for her, presumably she had obtained it by engaging in… unsightly activities with the camp head, Double 0.  And with her was Derek and another boy who Arthur did not know. However, currently the unknown boy was kneeling down, on all fours and gladly supported the crossed legs of Violet, who was leisurely sat down in a wooden chair.

But her face was contorted into one of pure anger and disgust at the two punks had failed an easy job. 

Derek smiled awkwardly and bowed so low, that he could’ve kissed the floor, “M-mistress, Im so-sorry, but the…meal, we couldn’t do it.” His voice was wobbly.

The boy kneeling down also nodded his head profusely.

Violet kissed her teeth and then she bared her teeth in a snarl as she drove her right leg into the boy’s back so hard that a *crack* was heard and his entire body collided into the ground with another deafening sound that reverberated against the entire room. The boy laid there, his limbs were sprawled out and a pool of blood became evident below his body.

Violet saw this and then asked Derek, “Want to watch?”

“W-watch what?” Derek’s answer was feeble, but he knew exactly what Violet meant.

She paused for a while. For so long that, Arthur quickly retracted his peering head from the corner of the doorway and bit his tongue so hard that he stopped breathing.

Violet chuckled and said, “Don’t you hate it?” Derek tilted his head inquisitively, obviously oblivious.

As she said the next part her eyes literally shone with a red pulsation:

“Don’t you hate it when you catch people peeking?”

Time seemed to slow down.

She paused and then continued, “Grab him. Now.” Derek’s head swivelled around to Arthur’s location, and the peeper’s heart rate accelerated so much that his chest could explode any minute.

Squealing like a pathetic animal, Arthur quickly felt his body get pulled into the room, Derek’s arm wrapped around his jugular, preventing him shouting or screaming out for help. Arthur desperately tried to claw at the thick forearm that constricted him, but it was hopeless. His opponent’s weight severely prohibited him from being able to flip over the opponent or escape his grasp. All Arthur could do was hopelessly get dragged in.

Please no, not again. I don’t want to have to go through this shit again.

It was true, Arthur was sick of being constantly bullied and tortured by everyone around him; ever since his parents died, he had suffered horribly- as if it was his fault, his fault that everyone close to him had been taken. As if he had to pay back the world for his misdeeds. These sins that he had ‘committed’ required retribution in the form of half a life in this disgusting excuse of a prison.

Arthur hated his life. The only thing he had to live for was his sister. But she was probably dead as well.

“Hey, weasel! Don’t go unconscious before I start!” Snarled Violet.

Arthur glumly stared ahead as he slowly felt whatever was left of his soul and humanity crumble away. His whole body convulsed as Derek tightened his grip around Arthur’s neck.

“You know what I am?” Violet asked.

Arthur did not respond until his head snapped back up after hearing her response.

“Im a vampire.” The way she stated it, was if she didn’t care; as if it was the most mundane of things.

But to Arthur it wasn’t. She was one of the scum, one of the scum responsible- somehow linked to the death of his parents!

Of course this assumption was foolish; how could one blame an entire sub-species for the actions of one? But Arthur did not care. He hated and will continue to hate vampires forever, as long as he draws breath. And this thing; this creature in front of him, had managed to go under the radar for the entire time of temporary confinement in the camp! It disgusted him, that such a disgusting demon had stayed in the same building as Arthur. Human scum were tolerable but demons? Unacceptable. It infuriated him. It made him even angrier at the possibility that the heads of the camp knew of her existence but still allowed her to…feed on other prisoners!

Something flashed in Arthur’s eyes and an incredible fluctuation of strength rippled across his entire body as he burst out of Derek’s grip and burst forward towards violet in an attempt to do anything to stop her.

For just a brief moment, the vampire’s entire body hesitated, hesitated to a point of the enemy reaching her, but she quickly regained her posture as she struck out her arm, into his throat knocking him to the ground in a fit.

*Cough Cough* Arthur felt his throat burning as he spluttered up a substantial pool of blood, that soaked the wooden floorboards underneath. His arms cradled his stomach desperately as he rocked around, his whole being succumbing to the spasming bursts of pain that struck him.

“What…did…she.hit….me..with…” He gasped in-between his rapid wheezes. He asked, but he knew the answer; he knew how strong vampires and demons were.

At peak ability (Dependent on pure-blood or half-blood), an average vampire could lift about 50 times its body weight, and throw something half a ton at 70mph. Terrifying would be a suitable description of such a demon.

Despite being knocked back a few feet, he knew that she held back tremendously: presumably to make him suffer.

Derek grabbed a hold of Arthur again, and pinned him to the floor, forcing him to look upwards, by holding him by his hair.

“Let…me…go,” he whispered out.

“Derek make sure he watches,” the vampire snarled at her underling.

Derek nodded, but even Arthur could feel the sweat droplets forming on his palms, that held his head in place. At first Arthur was perplexed, but then his eyes bulged open and his brow twitched vigorously as he felt his blood boil. His left eye twitched, as it normally would when he was under intense pressure, anger, or about to partake in an outburst in disturbed out-of-persona outbreak. He felt his mouth and tongue dry rapidly, as his saliva was forcefully extracted into the walls of his mouth which was now gaping  open in absolute and unrefined shock.

Violet, saw this and her boy quivered very slightly out of sadistic pleasure. What she was doing, made his body falter to a point where he could fall unconscious of shock any minute.

She picked up the unconscious boy who just served as her pedestal, and held him up by the grip of his shirt which was tearing slightly. His head succumbed to the force of gravity and hung backwards, exposing his neck and the very throbbing veins.

Arthur desperately tried to fumble around, wriggle his body and even bite the fingers of his capturer but he couldn’t escape. His mind raced endlessly as he foresaw what was about to happen. Just like what happened with his sister and his parents. He didn’t want to see it happen again, even if a complete stranger was suffering. The pure act of stealing one’s life slowly and agonizingly in front of another was terrible.

Arthur started crying, tears flooding down his cheeks as if he was a new-born infant. He cried shamelessly, to the point where his whole face was red and his whole body trembled with fear.

Violet burst out into laughter, her long and beautiful purple-dyed hair, bopping along with her laughter.

“Fucking fool.” Was the last words she said as she opened her mouth and exposed her teeth—no fangs.

With vampires, they can conceal their two primary elongated canines, by accurately controlling the depth of the tooth root in their gums essentially making them shorter or longer. However, when stimulated by bloodlust, or simply under a whim or decision, they can elongate and sharpen all teeth, exposing 2 layers of razor sharp, needle-lick spines that could cut through even bone.

And she did exactly that, within a few seconds, her teeth extended and sharpened, silently, despite bone being reformed and molded. The part that terrified Arthur, was that there was a much cleaner and painless method to feasting. They could simply use their canines, and even the victim would survive, if not enough blood had been drained. But she purposefully chose to destroy the prey that she had in her hands.

But that was not the limiting factor that made vampires terrifying. No—that was only the tip of the iceberg. Some vampires, who still have genes from ancient demonic ancestors have the ability to modify certain body parts in order to make feeding much more efficient. Some could control the flexibility of their jaw, to make feasting easier and quicker. They could unhinge the bones on their jaws, much similar to a snake, and therefore accommodate for much more space in the oral cavity.

Violet paused momentarily, as the once silent room, was filled with cracking and squelching sounds as slowly but steadily collapsed and her jaw hung loose, 6 inches lower than it should.

Derek was forced to clamp his hand over Arthur’s mouth to stop him for screaming out.

Even now, Violet’s purple eyes were dilated and drunk on sadistic pleasure, as slowly she spiraled down into the physiological breakdown that ensued. She too, slowly, was breaking down mentally with time, and wanted to take that path at a slow stroll, so she could maximize her enjoyment.

Her mouth wrapped around the boy’s neck, slowly and leisurely at first, the fangs that was her teeth jabbing slightly into the soft pink flesh that had blood slowly leak out at the puncture wounds.

And then she struck. It was so vicious and brutal that it would imprint itself into Arthur’s mind forever, until he took his last breath. Arthur repeatedly screamed and screamed as loud as he could, as he felt mucus fill his nose, and tears clog his eyes. He begged to be let free and tried to clamp his eyes shut, but they were kept open by Derek’s fingers, which too were trembling slightly.

Arthur was forced to stare, as what seemed more blood that the human body can accommodate stained the entire floor and walls. Not his screams, but the victim’s screams were interlaced with his own. At first defiant and strong, but as seconds turned to minutes, the screams whimpered down as the boy’s body lost its colour and his neck was completely destroyed, his wind pipe severed in two, and his body only connected to his head by a thin strand of flesh.

*

Arthur laid there, panting and his whole body quivering so much he couldn’t steady himself or decelerate his heart beat. He looked onwards and saw the lifeless and limp body of the boy who had been used as food.

His nearly decapitated head, whose hair had lost its colour and his skin become pale, stared at Arthur with his pale grey eyes that too had lost their colour—no their soul. Arthur stared at those eyes, and chuckled slightly.

“Huh, you’re the only guy who hasn’t looked at me and insulted me, in this entire prison.” His voice faltered slightly as tears still left his eyes.

He reached out his hand as if asking for a handshake:

“My names Arthur; whats yours?”

Just before he lost consciousness from shock and pure fear, he thought to himself

Well at least I made one friend today.

“Arghh!” Arthur’s whole body convulsed in pain, as he felt a sharp, extensive pain rush through the side of his naked abdomen.

“Number 7.” The owner of the voice called out, his voice filled with glee.

“Kid, its best to admit your crime now, then to endure the pain. After the 12th, Im gonna be forced to keep you awake. As soon as we get this recorded confession, all charges are dropped and the torture will falter.” The voice was the infamous double 0- notorious for his torture and violent methods of information extortion. Although, normally he would use conventional instruments to permit the agony of inmates, this time he decided to branch out on his ‘array of tools’.

Double 0 was using ‘Rinse n’ Mince’, one of the only torture methods banned globally, and regarded as a complete and utter ‘violation of human right and dignity act’. The victim would be repeatedly lashed with a whip, ranging from 5 foot to 12, but the whip was made out of an extremely light and flexible compound, barley solid at room temperature. The circumference of the whip was aligned with tiny serrated edges, less than a millimetre long, and the spikes would be aligned opposite to the direction of the slash. Much similar to some marine predators, such as sharks, their teeth were aligned so that once it punctured flesh, the teeth would be jammed inside, making it impossible for prey to get out of the opposite grip. It also meant that the victim would bleed out much quicker. It was extremely painful by itself, but there was of course its partnering technique, the ‘rinse’.

A bucket filled to the brim of a certain acidic drug. The drug seeps into any openings in the skin, and slowly deconstructs red blood cells at a slow and painful rate, so slow in fact, that it takes about 5 days to kill someone with the drug, because each individual cell is destroyed so slowly. It increased the already excruciating amounts of pain, to an unbearable one.

Arthur’s hands were tied, by the wrists, by a rope that was attached to the ceiling high above. He hung there with his entire body exposed; however he had already lost feeling in his abdomen and thighs. But, without hesitation, Arthur screamed once more as he felt a substantial amount of ice cold liquid enter his skin and injuries sending him into another spasming shock of pain.

“I can’t believe, that someone like you, would attempt to rape a helpless girl like Violet!” Double 0 shouted at Arthur.

A blatant lie of course.

Arthur slowly dragged his head upwards, his consciousness already starting to fade out of existence.

He muttered two words.

“Kill…me…”

(End of flashback)

*

*Knock Knock*

He felt the steel door of his cage rattle as a guard called in,

“You have a visitor, punk. 10 minutes- max!”

 https%3a%2f%2fs-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com%2f236...4cce44.jpg [https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/13/9b/68/139b686872753bc1c11338c2314cce44.jpg]       (what his mask looks like.)