CRACK CRACK

The sounds of the whip lashing on the slave echoed through the dimly lit room. She was nothing more than a punching bag for her master, and her wounds from almost half an hour of beating is evident. Deep angry scars ran across her sweat-drenched body; her breath rapid simply trying to maintain consciousness. In the same room lay several more bodies, some lifeless, the evidence of the torture carried out before her. Would her fate be like them? She didn’t know, and honestly that might be better than her current fate.

“Please master… I... I can’t take it anymore…” She quietly whimpered to her master, desperately hoping for some time to nurse her wounds. Unfortunately, her master was not a pleasant man. He had just had a rough day, and he relieved his frustration in the way he knew best – transferring it to the slaves. After all, he was rich and could always buy more if some were to tragically die off. Who would care if some lowly slaves were to disappear from the world?

Tired after an hour of whipping his slaves, the shirtless man leaned back to take a short break. Surveying the room, he realized that he had gone through quite a few slaves today, more than his usual amount. No matter, not like they mattered to him. The most nuisance part is cleaning the mess, and he always called upon other slaves to do the job. An almost daily reminder to behave. Wiping his sweat from his bald head he decided that he has had enough for today.

“Clean this mess up,” he lazily stated, and several slaves kneeled behind him scampered towards the bodies, cleaning the mess hastily to avoid angering him. The man watched on as his slaves carried water buckets filled with soap, and as he prepared to leave for his lavish dinner, he tripped over a slave struggling to carry her bucket.

The room immediately fell deathly silent, as the slave watched in horror as the man slowly stood back up, shifting his gaze to the cowering slave. The rest of the batch knew what fate had befallen the slave, there was no coming back if one angered their master. His unforgiving attitude was well-known in the household, and even the most careless slaves learnt to tread carefully when he was around. Rumours were that a slave who added a bit too much salt to his meal had his intestines ripped out, while another who didn’t clean his room up to standards was forced to feed on dirt for the next several days. Either way, there is no good ending.

The man towered over the shivering slave; his gaze icy as he thought of what to do with the slave. The frightened girl tried to beg for mercy, but no words came out as her pale face started to tear up. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her legs had long turned into jelly the moment she tripped the man over. She could only watch helplessly as the man grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up, fully intending to throw her against the wall and bash her face until she bleeds.

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Just as she was about to be hurled across the room, the man stopped. His grip loosened and she dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes grasping for air. The man slowly turned around as if in pain, and it was then the slaves noticed that someone else was in the room. A women clad in dark clothing with a black bandana mask stood in the doorway, holding what looks like a dart gun pointed in the man’s direction. A lone dart struck the back of the man, blood slowly oozing out from the wound.

“Who… who are you,” the man stuttered out, his face twisting with pain from the effects of the dart. He glared at the intruder hoping to intimidate her, but all he got was a cold stare in response.

“GUARDS!” he mustered his voice and bellowed out when he figured he wouldn’t be getting a response. His pain was worsening, and his focus was starting to waver, slowly stumbling as he struggled to stay upright. The women in front of him started to fragment in his eyes, and he struggled to breath as he felt his body tighten. Sweat started to flow from his head as he mentally cursed the women for whatever she did to him. Once he was free, he was bound to torture her thoroughly.

“They’re not here,” the women finally spoke. She slowly approached the man, and he noticed she had amber eyes. His eyes widened as he realized who she was and why she was here. He thought he had killed them off years ago, eradicated their whole family tree. Evidently, he was wrong. Fear started to take hold as he stared into the eyes of the women, his hands reaching out in search for something to strike against her.

Without giving him a chance, the women wordlessly struck a knife into the chest of the man, slowly twisting it as he writhed in pain. The tip of the blade was laced in poison like the dart fired earlier, and the man screamed as the searing pain penetrated his body, burning his insides. In an instance the blade was ripped out, leaving a gaping hole in the body of the man. Blood poured out as the man desperately tried to stop the bleeding, crawling on the floor trying to get away from his nightmare. He could feel the floor beneath him fill up with liquid, and slowly he lost conscious, succumbing to his wounds and entering a never-ending sleep.

The women silently cleaned her blood-covered blade with a piece of cloth, scanning the room of slaves who were all starring as the events unfold. At the sight of her glance, they shuffled backwards, afraid of angering the new unknown, uncertain if thy will face he same fate as their master. The women ignored them as she grabbed the dead body and pulled it out the door towards a nearby room, stepping across the bodies of guards she has previously disposed of. She slammed the head of the man towards a face recognition terminal, and the doors slowly opened as she stepped into the modern looking server room. Digging in her pockets she fished out a USB drive and promptly stuck it in one of the ports. Within minutes, the data was wiped, her goal was complete, and she disappeared as silently as she had come.