Cruel Delights

Chapter One

- CADEN -

Something about the cruelty of it all is so delightful. The rush that comes with every hit, the power that comes with mercy.

"Are you gonna talk or do I have to get it out of you?"

"L- look man, I - I did exactly what you...what you wanted! I don't know what went wrong I-"

My fist collided with his jaw and I felt his skin slit open. He spat, crying like a bitch. The blood from his mouth dripped on the sides of his lips and I wince at the sight. He's getting blood all over my floor.

Things like this don't usually push me over the edge. A couple of late arrivals in supplies? Yeah sure. A couple of extra pay? Why not? But losing the supplies? That's like giving the police the ammunition they need - literally. What kind of a stupid ass do you have to be to lose three trucks of guns and ammunition?

Tired of hearing the same excuse from this guy, I got down, looking him right in the eyes with a menacing smile. He stared back, fear dancing in his eyes. I made it dance and I'd like to keep it that way.

"Have you got any idea what city we hold?" I asked my English accent so much thicker than his American. I kept my smile and he sobbed shaking his head as if somehow that's gonna let him off.

If it were that easy, we wouldn't be here right now.

"Answer me!" I yelled, feeling my voice scratch in the back of my throat.

Jumping under his restraints he cried even louder, "LA, we're in LA-"

"Yes, yes exactly," I said softly. He looked down as a lost puppy until his face was nothing more than a shadow under the one light above us.

"You know what that means?" I stood, balling my fists, not even noticing the tears on them.

He shook his head.

"That means that you just lost three trucks of weapons in a city that crawls with police and everyone else that wants it you useless piece of shit," I whispered.

His screams rattled the room while I threw a fist after the other. I didn't care about the blood on my floors anymore so I kept going until I couldn't hear his screams anymore. There I was again, the third time this week with my fist on someone else's face. Sometimes I wish I could stop.

"Dude, chill, chill he's out." A hand tugged on my shoulder but I still couldn't stop.

"Caden, enough." My name brings me back and I turn.

Marco retreated his hands, lifting them in surrender as I looked at him through my red-stained gaze. When my murderous breaths turned into breathless heaves, he let up and sighed, looking at the man on the chair.

His face was now almost broken in, his eyes all red and bloody and his lips busted right in. Marco reached a hand out to his neck.

"Nice going boss," he said, "you killed him."

"He had it coming," I wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt, mindlessly watching as he untied the body from its chair.

"Maybe this one did," Marco groaned, struggling to lift it over his shoulders. "What about the other two? They were simply back up."

"I don't care which of them are innocent. What I care about is the fact that right now, guns with our engravings on them are somewhere waiting to be discovered." I tell him, swirling a glass of water in my hand.

I noticed the tremors that crawled up my hands and I could only watch, dismissing it as I drank.

"I'll take care of the body," I hear Marco say. He wasn't even trying to hide the irritation in his tone.