The hospital buzzed with a vibrant energy that starkly contrasted the quiet solitude Uriel usually inhabited. His face obscured by a black nose mask, a black hoodie pulled low over his head, he moved with a deceptive confidence through the cheerful throng, his gaze fixed on the ground beneath his feet.
Inside, the hospital hallway hummed with a different kind of life. Parents chatted animatedly with patients, while healthcare workers hurried past, clutching files and exchanging rapid-fire conversations. The rhythmic whirring and beeping of medical machinery formed an undercurrent to the lively atmosphere.
Uriel halted before his psychiatrist's office, a knot of concern and anticipation tightening in his stomach. This was his seventh visit in a month, a stark increase. He was about to knock when the doorknob turned, and the door was pulled open by a striking woman. Her ebony hair was swept into a sleek ponytail, and the curves of her figure strained against her attire. Her long, slender legs were partially visible beneath her white coat. Her honey-brown eyes flickered with a mixture of concern and guilt as she hurried past Uriel without a glance.
Uriel stepped into the office, seemingly unfazed by his psychiatrist, Dr. Kevin, who was hastily zipping his fly. He walked towards the couch by the window, sinking into its deceptive softness.
He tilted his head sharply towards the window. "It looks like something important's happening at the hospital. It's so lively," he remarked, crossing his legs.
"It's the visiting day assigned by the Ministry of Health," Kevin replied, taking a sip of his coffee.
Dr. Kevin moved towards the small seating area where Uriel was now comfortably ensconced. He crouched down, carefully examining Uriel's eyes with a penlight. "You look okay, but I'm guessing the symptoms have resurfaced," he said, settling into his own chair.
Uriel sat up, a slight tremor running through his body. "I'm not okay, Kevin. I wish I were, but it's been three weeks, and the symptoms are persistent. I'm constantly annoyed, irritated, flustered, and I'm always looking for something to destroy when I feel overwhelmed," he confessed, his hands clasped tightly together.
"I picked a fight with my father and then with a group of guys at the basketball court. It's getting worse, and I'm not getting any better," he added, pulling down the nose mask from his face.
Dr. Kevin's expression grew serious as he diligently scribbled notes, capturing every word Uriel uttered. "It sounds like the symptoms of Intermittent Explosive Disorder, IED. It tends to manifest when you're around people or objects that trigger anger and irritation," he explained, opening his first aid kit and retrieving a stethoscope.
Uriel's frown deepened, and he tugged at his hair in frustration. "I thought during my last visit you said it was just a mild display of teenage angst and that IED could be treated?" Uriel asked, his voice laced with concern and anger, his pale face flushing red.
Dr. Kevin knelt before him, placing the cool stethoscope against his chest. "Look, Uriel, I did say the disorder can be managed if we can identify the triggers, but I never said you could be completely cured. This is something you'll need to learn to manage and treat simultaneously," he said, trying to reassure Uriel, who had risen and begun to pace restlessly.
"Has anything specific happened recently that you feel might have triggered these symptoms?" he asked with concern.
Uriel turned to him, his gaze sharp and unkind. "It's the new girl, Megara Smith. She's constantly getting on my nerves. The way she acts so tough, always trying to belittle me and always defying my rules," he complained, snatching a decorative vase and smashing it against the wall. "And to top it all off, Hugo's hellbent on dating her."
"You don't seem too happy about that, do you?" Kevin observed, noting Uriel's agitated state. "Don't misunderstand me, but you feel she's not good enough for your best friend."
Uriel scoffed, clicking his tongue as if he'd just had a revelation. "Of course she isn't worthy of him! She's bold, defiant, unyielding, and most of all, her background irks me. She's poor, Kevin, a poor wreck," he sneered, smashing another vase.
"I'm trying so hard not to lose it whenever she's around. I'm always speechless in her presence, like she's cast some kind of spell on me," he continued, grabbing yet another vase. "She's the only thing standing in my way."
"You shouldn't act rashly, or else people might realize the extent of your struggles, and that wouldn't be good. If she could potentially help Hugo, perhaps you should consider being friendly with her," Kevin suggested, his voice tinged with uncertainty and a hint of fear.
Uriel shrugged, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "The hell with such suggestions, Kevin. I'm not going to befriend a poor person, not me," he declared, smashing the vase again. "My head aches. Do you have any sedative? I'm feeling sleepy."
Kevin nodded, finally retrieving a sedative from his pocket. "Here you go, but we can't continue like this, or the consequences will be severe," he remarked, meeting Uriel's intense green eyes. "After this, you'll undergo the proper procedure, and that's final."
Uriel swallowed the pill in one gulp. He walked over to the reclining chair, lay down, and closed his eyes, drifting into a troubled slumber.
THE ABANDONED WAREHOUSE, OUTSIDE THE OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN.
The abandoned warehouse stood stark against the twilight sky, a skeletal silhouette on the fringes of town. Decay clung to it like a shroud – rusted metal groaned in the wind, and shattered windows stared out like vacant eyes. The air hung heavy with the stench of damp earth, stale dust, and the lingering ghost of cigarette smoke. A cacophony of scurrying – the frantic dance of mice and stray creatures – echoed through the dilapidated structures surrounding a taller, gutted building that loomed in the center.
Inside, the screams were raw and visceral, tearing through the silence in ragged bursts. Each bodyguard was a silent sentinel, a dark figure etched against the gloom, their grip tight on their weapons, their senses honed for any intrusion.
Strapped to a cold metal chair in the heart of the warehouse, a man sagged, his body a canvas of bruises and blood. His limbs were bound fast, his head lolling with pain. A palpable aura of menace radiated from the figure standing before him, a black shadow against the dim light. His eyes, when they caught the faint illumination, burned with a cold, furious intensity.
The shadow drew deeply on a cigarette, the cherry glowing like a malevolent ember before being extinguished with a careless flick and a grinding heel. He moved then, stepping out of the oppressive darkness and into a weak shaft of light that pierced the grimy windows. The light illuminated his face, revealing the sharp angles and hard lines of Zack Oswald, a member of the notorious Z3. Gone was the warmth that once softened his features; now, his eyes were hollow pools reflecting only emptiness and a simmering rage. He held aloft a dagger, its honed edge catching the light, a sliver of deadly brilliance in the desolate space.
Zack sauntered back to the bloodied figure strapped to the chair, his gaze locking onto Bruno Hudson's with predatory intensity. "Bruno Hudson," Zack began, his voice a low growl, "the notorious capo of the southwest city, famed for your plunder and your futile rivalry against the Oswald family. With all that supposed prowess, did it ever cross your mind that a day like this would arrive? You, bound and groaning, at my mercy?"
Bruno chuckled, a wet, rattling sound. He spat a mouthful of blood before turning his ravaged face towards Zack, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Fuck you, Zack Oswald, you son of a balls!" he croaked, the last words erupting into a scream that was abruptly cut short by a brutal punch from a waiting guard. "Ouch," Bruno wheezed, a manic grin twisting his bloodied lips. "Hahahaha!"
Zack's head snapped towards the guard, his brown eyes burning with a cold fury that made the man visibly tremble. "Did I instruct you to strike him?" Zack's voice was dangerously soft. "Let him indulge in his pathetic attempts at bravado. I, however, will savor the process of tearing him apart." He gestured dismissively towards a nearby table laden with acupuncture needles.
Bruno thrashed against his restraints, his eyes wide with a primal fear, but Zack's hulking bodyguard held him firmly in place.
"You'll never extract anything from me!" Bruno snarled, his voice thick with blood. "You'll rot in hell alongside your pathetic, cynical father! And mark my words, you're nothing but his puppet!" He spat the last word like venom, but Zack remained unmoved, his gaze fixed on Bruno as he approached, a slender needle held delicately between his fingers.
Leaning in close, Zack met Bruno's terrified gaze, his own eyes devoid of any warmth. "Do you know what I admire most about Vlad Dracula?" he murmured, punctuating the question by plunging the needle into an already open wound on Bruno's arm. A raw, guttural shriek tore from Bruno's throat. "He possessed an uncanny ability to extract valuable information from his victims without so much as breaking a sweat."
Bruno's teeth ground together, the burning agony in his arm a relentless torment. "But... he died a miserable death, Zack," he gasped, his voice strained. "You need to brush up on your history. Betrayed... by his own brother." He managed to spit a glob of blood that landed squarely on Zack's cheek. With a deliberate slowness, Zack produced a pristine white handkerchief and wiped his face clean. Then, with a sudden, brutal motion, he slammed his fist into Bruno's nose, eliciting a fresh cry of pain, before plunging another needle into the same wound. "Oohhh, you're highly impulsive, Zack," Bruno choked out, a perverse amusement flickering in his eyes. "A true behavior of a Vlad dog."
A dangerous snicker escaped Zack's lips, a predatory gleam flashing in his eyes. "Many called him impulsive," he countered, his voice laced with menace, "but I see it differently. He was simply...tricky. Manipulative. Qualities I find rather advantageous. Because had it not been for his…techniques, I wouldn't have landed such a magnificent catch amongst all my little fishes." He pressed down on the needles, earning another strangled cry from Bruno. "Salt in the wound, wouldn't you say?"
"Fuck you!" Bruno spat, his facial muscles twitching uncontrollably.
Zack laughed, a harsh, sarcastic sound, his gaze lingering on Bruno's groin. "While the thought is…intriguing, you're simply not my type. I'll pass on that particular form of interrogation."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sent a fresh wave of terror through Bruno. "You see, your beloved son, Samiel, played a rather crucial role in your capture. And I intend to reward him handsomely for his…cooperation." Zack's smirk widened, a truly devilish expression. "I might even let him accompany you on your journey to hell, right after I'm finished with you."
Bruno's body convulsed against the restraints, his desperate struggle futile against the strength of Zack's bodyguard. Zack strolled back to the table, his eyes gleaming as he picked up a pair of surgical tweezers. He donned a thin latex glove, the snap of the material echoing in the tense silence, before lunging forward and plunging the sharp points directly into Bruno's eyes.
A shrill, visceral scream of pure agony ripped through the air, a sound so raw and terrifying that it seemed to physically vibrate the very walls of the room. Blood oozed from the punctured sockets as Zack twisted the tweezers, a sickening squelching sound accompanying the horrifying act. "Are you ready to talk, Bruno?" Zack growled, his voice a deep, menacing rumble. "I am not a patient man."
"The ark... of dominance... outskirts of Mexico City," Bruno sobbed, tears mingling with the blood streaming down his face. "Far... away... from here... code... pearl Osiris. First red building... next to the lighthouse... underneath..." His confession was punctuated by ragged gasps.
Zack smirked, a look of cruel satisfaction spreading across his blood-splattered face. "How am I supposed to believe you, Bruno? After you fed my men four sets of bogus codes, resulting in the delightful demise of thirty-six of my loyal soldiers?" He grabbed Bruno's throat, his grip tightening ominously. "What is the precise address, you son of a bitch?! You will give me the correct code and the exact location, or I will personally blow your fucking head off!"
"I swear... on my diamond guns..." Bruno choked out, his voice trembling violently, "...I would never betray you... not while my life... hangs in the balance..."
"That's a good one, Sadiq. Did you get that down?" Zack asked, his face a mask of conceited amusement, the bloodstains only adding to his menacing aura.
"Yes, boss!" Sadiq replied, his fingers flying across the laptop keyboard. "Yes, boss, target locked. There's a building matching the description. Our men have received the order to secure the location."
Zack nodded curtly as a guard silently presented him with a gleaming 24-carat gold handgun. He hefted it, the weight familiar in his hand, and cocked it with a sharp click. "Nice. I want results in three... two... one."
"Boss, it's done. We've retrieved the ark of dominance," Sadiq confirmed, his voice crisp and efficient. "But sir, we lost two men. Killed by lasers."
Bruno breathes his voice ragged and cracked. "How's that fucking possible?! He screamed but was silenced by a heavy fist.
"I knew a clever piece of shit like you wouldn't leave such a valuable prize unguarded," Zack conceded, a hint of admiration in his voice. "But thankfully, I employ two of the world's finest gymnasts." He gestured towards Bruno with the gold gun.
"When you arrive in the underworld, be sure to tell the keeper of Hades that Zack sends his regards." He paused, a final, cruel thought surfacing. "Oh, and before I forget, Dinah, your beloved daughter, looks remarkably well riding the…affections…of a very wealthy man in my father's brothel." With a final, chilling smile, Zack pressed the muzzle of the gold gun against Bruno's forehead and pulled the trigger. The deafening bang echoed through the room as Bruno's head exploded, spraying blood and brain matter across the walls and the horrified guards. Zack lowered the smoking weapon, a look of detached satisfaction on his face. "Nice gun," he mused, examining the intricate goldwork. "Prince Naveen ibn Salem certainly didn't exaggerate its quality."
Sadiq shrugged, dabbing the grime from his cheek with a pristine white handkerchief. "My pleasure if it meets your approval, Boss. I'll have more sent over," he said, ushering Zack from the warehouse.
The lethal edge in Zack's eyes softened, replaced by a cheerful glint, a startling shift from the ruthless predator he'd just been. "No need for that, Sadiq. Just be sure the old man knows the job's done," he instructed. Sadiq nodded, but as they reached the car, his phone buzzed.
Sadiq hesitated, glancing at Zack, who gestured for him to answer. "Hello, sir..." Sadiq clipped out, a hint of resentment in his tone.
"Is it finished?" Mr. Oswald's voice was level.
"Yes, sir. Completed," Sadiq confirmed, bobbing his head as he opened the car door for Zack.
A drawn-out sigh echoed through the phone. "Excellent. Now, Sadiq, hand the phone to my little menace. I want a word with him directly." Sadiq reluctantly passed the device to Zack, who held it to his ear, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.
"Yeah? Who is this?" Zack demanded, exhaling a plume of smoke.
"Don't play coy, Zack. You know damn well who's calling. I've been trying to reach you," Mr. Oswald's voice was firm, laced with annoyance. "Care to explain your silence?"
Zack gestured for Sadiq to drive, the car pulling away from the warehouse. "No explanation necessary. Your errand's run, and frankly, I'm famished and haven't had any decent company in hours," he stated bluntly, his gaze drifting suggestively downwards on his outlined bulge.
"You incorrigible hedonist! Look, I haven't the time for your lewdness. Deliver the Ark of Dominance to my residence, and the deeds to the Vegas and Brooklyn casinos are yours," Mr. Oswald conceded, his tone sharp despite the concession.
"My word is my bond, old man. It'll be there within the quarter-hour. But don't dawdle on those deeds, or there'll be consequences," Zack assured, a subtle threat underlying his words. "And perhaps you should refrain from commenting on my personal life. Unlike some, I don't dabble in hypocrisy with six neglected wives."
Zack disconnected abruptly, hurling the phone out the window in a burst of anger. He unleashed a volley of gunfire at the windshield, deliberately aiming wide of Sadiq, who remained calm, steering as shattered glass rained around him.
"Next time that bastard rings, ignore it. Once he has what he wants, he couldn't care less," Zack instructed, loosening his tie.
Sadiq met Zack's gaze in the rearview mirror, nodding. "Understood, Boss. There won't be a next time."