[Nexus branch—Interrogation Room]
The interrogation room was steeped in tension, a stark contrast between the two men who faced each other.
The air was thick with the unspoken weight of their histories and the battle of wills to come.
Dustin, a visage of law and order, sat with a file clutched in his hands, its contents as meticulous and methodical as the man himself.
His expression was stern, lines of weariness etched into his face, a testament to years of wrestling with the darker facets of humanity.
Across from him, Noel lounged in his chair, a study in controlled defiance.
The metallic glint of handcuffs binding his wrists was a jarring reminder of his current predicament, yet his demeanor suggested a man untouched by the severity of his situation.
His eyes, sharp and unyielding, met Dustin's with a mix of amusement and challenge.
Dustin's voice broke the silence, a hint of disbelief lacing his words.
"I heard you beat up your inmates," he said, seeking confirmation for the rumors that had been swirling around.
Noel's response came with a nonchalant shrug, his voice steady, almost proud.
"Yup. You heard correct. I needed to show them that I'm not someone they should mess with," he declared, his tone leaving no room for doubt about his dominance.
Each word was delivered with a cold certainty, a stark contrast to the sterile, oppressive environment of the interrogation room.
Dustin's brow furrowed, lines of concern deepening as he absorbed Noel's admission.
He leaned forward slightly, his next question carrying a weight of moral inquiry, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him.
"Okay. But why did you break their limbs at the end?" he asked, his voice quieter, tinged with a mix of confusion and horror.
The words lingered in the air, heavy with the brutality they described.
A chilling smile touched Noel's lips, a smile that didn't reach his eyes but instead illuminated them with a disturbing mirth.
He leaned back, the handcuffs clinking softly, a cruel symphony to his amusement.
"Because that was fun," he replied, his tone almost gleeful, the word 'fun' sounding sinister in the context of his cruel delight.
His eyes danced with a malevolent light, as if relishing the memory of his actions, the room growing colder with the revelation of his twisted pleasure.
The tension in the room thickened, a palpable force that seemed to constrict the air.
Dustin let out a weary sigh, the sound heavy with the burden of the conversation.
"Haa! Anyways," he began, his resignation evident, "today you will answer my questions, right?"
Noel leaned forward, the chains rattling softly, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Of course. What do you want to ask?" he said, his voice smooth as silk, masking the dangerous man beneath.
His eyes gleamed with a predatory amusement, as if he relished the cat-and-mouse game unfolding before him.
Dustin's hands moved slightly as he laid the file open on the table, the pages fluttering like the wings of a trapped bird, their sound a stark counterpoint to the tense silence.
The contents of the file spilled out, revealing a grim tapestry of past atrocities, each image and document a harrowing testament to innocence incinerated.
Photographs of the victims, detailed reports of the brutal acts, and forensic analyses painted a vivid picture of Noel's cruelty.
The weight of the evidence bore down on Dustin, each piece a fragment of shattered lives, a chorus of silent screams echoing from the pages.
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His eyes flicked up to meet Noel's, searching for any sign of remorse, but finding only that same cold, mocking gaze.
"Oh! This brings back some memories," Noel exclaimed, his voice a chilling melody of reminiscence that clashed harshly with the somber tone of the room.
His eyes glimmered with a perverse nostalgia, a stark juxtaposition to the gravity of their surroundings.
Dustin's hands paused slightly as he sorted through the crime scene photos sprawled across the table, each one a window into a nightmare.
"Your first crime," he began, his voice heavy with disbelief and a rising tide of anger.
"When I got to know about this, I couldn't believe that a 16-year-old child could do this."
The photos told a tale of unimaginable horror: a whole orphanage, consumed by flames, its young inhabitants and dedicated staff reduced to mere memories and ashes.
The charred remains of toys, tiny shoes, and scorched walls painted a gruesome picture of innocence lost and dreams incinerated.
"You burned a whole orphanage filled with kids and its staff. Can you tell me why you did such a thing?" Dustin's question was a demand, his voice a crescendo of outrage and pain.
He leaned forward, the raw intensity of his emotions barely held in check.
"An orphanage? Well, to be precise, it was not like an orphanage," Noel corrected, his tone casual, as if discussing a trivial matter in passing.
Dustin's confusion was palpable, his quest for understanding now muddied by Noel's cryptic response. His brow furrowed, a mixture of disbelief and dread settling in the pit of his stomach.
"What do you mean?" he managed to ask, his voice strained with the weight of impending revelation.
"I mean it was more like an organization to produce human weapons," Noel revealed, his words dropping like stones into the still waters of Dustin's conscience.
The truth hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over the room, each syllable a damning indictment of the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of society.
Dustin was rendered speechless, his mind grappling with the implications of Noel's claim.
"Anyways I should answer your question now," Noel continued, his eyes gleaming with the clarity of recollection, his voice steady as he delved into the memories of his turbulent past. His words painted a vivid picture of a world where innocence was a luxury few could afford, where the line between victim and perpetrator blurred into obscurity.
"Basically, the job of that orphanage was to train orphans into weapons."
He paused, his gaze drifting to a time long past, when he was but a child of twelve or thirteen. The memories hung in the air like ghosts, their presence a haunting reminder of a darker time.
"There was this particular boy whom I beat up pretty badly," he admitted, the corners of his mouth twitching with a macabre amusement.
Dustin’s brow furrowed, his seasoned heart still capable of being unsettled by the casualness with which Noel recounted the violence. Each word was a weight upon his conscience, a testament to the depths of human depravity.
“Why did you do so?” he prompted, his voice a low rumble of contained emotion, a dam holding back the flood of anger and sorrow.
Noel's eyes were distant, lost in the fog of forgotten days. The lines of his face softened momentarily, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability amidst the darkness that consumed him.
"I don't remember the reason. Maybe it was because he was trying to bully me or was just being really bothersome," he mused, the words dripping with indifference, a stark contrast to the gravity of his actions.
"But you know, my luck," Noel continued, a sardonic laugh bubbling up from his throat, the sound discordant in the oppressive silence of the room. His laughter held no warmth, no joy, only a bitter resignation to the cruel twists of fate.
"He turned out to be a relative of one of the directors. So, since I beat him, it was obvious I was gonna get punished."
"And what did you do after knowing that?” Dustin leaned in, his eyes locked onto Noel’s, searching for a glimpse of the child that once was, within the hardened visage of the man before him.
The story unfolded, a tapestry of pain and defiance, woven by a boy who had been forced to grow up too soon, in a world that was far too cruel. Each word was a brushstroke on the canvas of Noel's past, painting a picture of a life shaped by adversity and marked by resilience.
Noel's tale of escape was a frantic heartbeat, the rhythm of his words echoing the pounding of his heart as he relived the moment.
"I ran," he said, the memory igniting a spark in his eyes. His voice trembled with a mixture of fear and exhilaration, the adrenaline of survival coursing through his veins once more.
"Of course, I couldn't run far because of other kids blocking my path, but I was able to hide in the kitchen."
The kitchen, once a place of warmth and nourishment, had become his temporary sanctuary, a haven amidst the chaos that threatened to engulf him. But fate, it seemed, was not on his side.
"Unfortunately, the director found me," Noel recounted, his voice tinged with the residue of that long-ago fear. The memory hung heavy in the air, a specter of vulnerability in the face of overwhelming power.
He spoke of a knife, its blade catching the dim light, a silent witness to his terror. Each glint of steel was a reflection of the fear that coursed through his veins, a reminder of the violence that lurked just beyond his reach.
"And maybe it was due to my desperation or something like that. There was a knife a little away from me," he murmured, the words heavy with the weight of what came next. The memory was a dark shadow looming over him, threatening to engulf him in its embrace.
With a surge of will, he had reached out with his powers, a child's wish to fend off the looming threat. The air crackled with the raw energy of his desperation, the very fabric of reality bending to his command.
"I focused my powers on it to bring it in my hands, but instead, it hit the director and injured one of his eyes."
The room seemed to shrink around them, the walls closing in as Noel recounted the moment of chaos and violence.
Each word was a dagger in Dustin's heart, a reminder of the fragility of innocence and the darkness that lurked within us all.
He could almost hear the director's scream, a primal symphony of pain and terror that had once reverberated through the halls of the orphanage.
"The director's scream echoed through the orphanage as blood gushed from his injured eye," Noel continued, his voice tinged with the lingering echoes of that fateful day.
His eyes burned with the intensity of the memory, the flames of his past consuming him once more.
In that moment, he was transported back to a time when survival meant embracing the darkness within, when the line between right and wrong blurred into obscurity.
"In that moment, I realized the true extent of my power," he confessed, the revelation dawning on him like a curse.
The weight of his abilities bore down on him, crushing his spirit beneath their oppressive force.
"But instead of feeling relieved, a sense of dread consumed me."
Dustin leaned in closer, the story unfolding before him not just in words but in the raw emotions that danced across Noel's face.
Each flicker of fear, each shadow of regret, painted a portrait of a soul teetering on the edge of darkness.
"The other children stared at me with a mix of awe and fear, whispering rumors of my newfound abilities," he recounted, his voice a crescendo of madness and revelation.
The echoes of their whispers haunted him, a constant reminder of the power he wielded and the isolation it brought.
"I knew then that I couldn't stay there any longer. I had to escape."
His pulse was a drumbeat, thundering in his ears as he narrated the ensuing chase, a desperate flight for freedom.
Each step was a battle against the forces of fate, each breath a defiance of the destiny they sought to impose upon him.
The director loomed large with his minions in tow, their shadows stretching long in the failing light.
Noel's every breath was a gasp, each step a testament to his unyielding determination to break free from the chains that bound him.
In the claustrophobic confines of an abandoned warehouse, with desperation clawing at his throat like the hands of fate itself, Noel found the crucible of his power.
The air was thick with the scent of decay, the silence broken only by the echoing footsteps of his pursuers.
"It was during one desperate moment, cornered and alone, that I truly unleashed my power," he said, his voice a raw whisper that echoed off the walls, mingling with the shadows that danced in the dim light.
His eyes blazed with the fierce glow of a cornered beast, a primal fire born from the depths of despair.
Dustin remained motionless, his gaze locked onto Noel, every word etching itself into his consciousness like a brand upon his soul.
The weight of Noel's revelation pressed down upon him, a burden too heavy to bear, yet impossible to ignore.
"And that," Noel's voice broke through the stillness, raw and laden with the weight of his past, "was just the beginning of my journey. A journey filled with danger, madness, and the relentless pursuit of freedom."