CRACK!
Everyone froze mid-step, thinking they heard a gunshot.
"Take one more step and you’ll end up like him," Francis warned.
One of them didn’t listen, and ended up as the next example. His head simply exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragnts.
"Isn’t it rude that you ran away after I’m being generous enough to share my stuffs?. Now where were we?"
He paused. "Ah, that’s right. Fall in line now."
No one listened. Not because they were brave, but because they were too frightened to move at all.
"I’ll say it again. Fall in line, or I’ll kill another person when I count to five."
"One."
"Two."
A few of them finally reacted. Not forward. Not back. Just small, broken movents like they were trying to decide if standing still could save them.
A bearded man dropped to his knees.
Another followed right after.
"Please spear--"
Their heads exploded before they could even finish their words.
This ti, everyone saw how their companions died.
Francis didn’t move much. He only flicked his fingers, as if brushing off dust, yet the pebble in his hand carried enough force to cause such an impact.
Now it made sense to them. He was a Special Category, and a very strong one at that.
"You people have so comprehension problem. Kneeling and falling in line are two different things."
Panic broke out.
They ran, believing that numbers might give them a chance, that a few of them could still make it out alive if they moved fast enough.
They were completely wrong.
What followed was a series of popping sounds until only one person was left breathing.
"Please," Devin begged, tears streaming down his face. "I didn’t know—"
"Devin, my friend, you really think that would work on ?"
Francis interrupted, moving closer. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You just didn’t think you would have to pay for it."
The old man’s bladder released, warmth spreading down his legs.
"Please," he whimpered, "I’ll do anything—"
"Too late for that," Francis grabbed his hand and forced it open. "What I hate more than criminals are people who lie to my face."
crack!
The first finger bent. Past the point it was ant to go.
"ARGGG"
The sound he made wasn’t just a scream. It was smaller and worse — a broken, airless cry. His eyes watered instantly, the tears spilling down.
Francis’s smile widened.
His mind was currently filled with the sa twisted thoughts that made him a serial killer.
It clouded his usual calculative thinking, but at the sa ti, it made him more dangerous and unpredictable.
There was no denying it. This version of himself was the most dangerous.
"Please—" his word ca out ragged."Please, stop—"
The second finger bent. Then kept bending.
Devin sobbed—ugly and uncontrolled, the kind he couldn’t hold back or swallow down.
"I’m begging you," he pleaded, the word barely intelligible through his agony. "I’ll tell you anything—"
"Oh, now you want to talk? Unfortunately, I don’t really have anything important to ask, so you’ll just have to endure it and bite your teeth through it."
The third and fourth fingers bent backward so far it looked like they might snap off completely.
Francis spoke like a disappointed teacher, his voice even and controlled, while he continued the torture without paused.
"I’m not punishing you for choosing this line of work. You just wanted money, right? Fair enough. But you still have to accept the consequences for lying to ."
crack! crack!
Two more fingers snapped in quick succession.
Francis finally released him, stepping back as he considered new ways to make his revenge more satisfying.
He walked over to Devin’s belongings scattered on the ground, kicking aside empty bottles and food wrappers.
His eyes landed on a tal thermos.
"Ah, this looks familiar," he picked it up. "The sa one you offered coffee from, wasn’t it? Before you sold out."
He twisted the cap open, steam rising from the contents.
"You know what they say about karma? What gets around cos around"
Francis returned to Devin, who was barely conscious, his head lolling to one side. He grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up.
"Here. Drink so coffee."
Francis tilted the thermos, pouring the scalding hot liquid directly onto the old man’s mouth.
The sizzle of burning flesh filled the air as Devin’s eyes shot open. His body convulsed violently, his burned fingers twitching as his throat blistered and cooked.
Francis watched with satisfaction as the hot water ran down Devin’s chest, scalding the skin.
"Don’t worry. It’s clean. You boiled it, right? Ah, by the way, there’s no sugar in it, so I hope you don’t mind."
Devin could only make gurgling sounds as his throat swelled shut.
"You know..." Francis trailed off, his voice dropping to a conversational tone.
"...I’ve been thinking. You used your dirty tongue to lie to . You used it to laugh with your friends. You used it to bargain for my life."
He paused and grinned in a sadistic way.
"I don’t think you should have one anymore." Francis jamd his thumb and forefinger past the blistered, swollen lips and clamped down on the base.
With a single yank, he ripped it off.
The sound was a sickening, tearing squelch, like wet cloth being grinded apart. Gush of blood followed, spilling down the chin and chest.
"Now that I think about it. You also use your eyes to get victims. To watch for an easy mark. You also won’t be needing that."
He pushed his two thumbs into the eye sockets, and slowly popped them out like they were made of ripe grapes.
Blood poured out, and Devin could only twist and roll on the ground in pain.
Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him conscious, and that only made it worse. Staying aware turned every second into hell.
"I’ll leave you to think about your sins and reflect. Though it looks like you won’t be thinking for much longer."
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