Emperor of Mayhem

f o r t y - t h r e e

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MIKHAIL

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The weak cries of agony hitting the walls of the windowless room and bouncing against the shells of my ear was infuriating to say the least. And the convoluted smell of both decayed and fresh blood, then damp cement could readily make me gag in disgust if not that I was so used to it; the smell of my torture room which was that of burning flesh and blood...or whichever method I chose to end a victim. There were quite a lot of them.

Flipping my wrist, my fingers that were coated in blood that wasn't mine gently tugged up the cuff of my sleeve, exposing my wristwatch.

1:00PM.

Fuck.

It was almost time to pick Azania up from school. And I didn't desire to be a second too late. I missed her too fucking much for that.

My jaws clenched, anger sparking inside my chest all over again as my haunting eyes fell back on the scoundrel crouched before me, pathetic and covered in blood. His own blood, of course.

With my expression unyielding, I gazed down at him, my irritation by his presence worsening by the second. I could just snap his neck and kill him off. But that was usually the last thing on the list. The first was to get information, but this bastard wouldn't speak. I didn't get why the fool was so stubborn.

Usually, I would patiently torture him until he tells me what I need to know. But not today, or now at least. I needed to be somewhere and I had no time to waste with him.

"I know your type." My anger diffused and I posed a calm exterior, "I deal with them every day. And normally, I have the patience of a saint to sit around and go back and forth but unfortunately, not today. So save me this trouble and tell me what you know."

"I swear." More tears poured from his eyes, mixing with the blood coating his bursted lips, "I don't know anything. I don't even know who the Scorpions are. All they did was send me articles concerning Bethel pharmaceuticals. I only published it because it seemed like something that was going to make a lot of money for our publishing house."

What a load of bullshit. I almost laughed. Was he trying to tell me that he was innocent in all of these? When in the real sense, he was the one that created the mess? He fucking published an article that revolved around uncovering the authenticity of my company and other many shady affairs that I engaged in on a paper.

Okay, fuck this shit. I was done with being nice. It was high time the real devil came to play.

His dirty brown eyes widened in alarm when I abruptly rose to my feet. And the spades of fear I saw dancing in those dull orbs of his did nothing but feed my hunger for power and ultimate supremacy. If only he knew that his fear was all I needed. It was what I basked on. Him grovelling at my feet, seeking salvation even though within me lies hell, was enjoyable.

"I see you need a little more push to speak up." I rolled my neck, hearing the tensed muscles pop. Then I proceeded to fold the sleeves of my shirt, the blood coating my hands tainting the once white material.

Walking across the room to where an electric kettle was plugged to a wall socket, I lifted the iron kettle off its holder just in time for the water inside to have reached the boiling point.

"What the fuck are you trying to do, man?" He shifted on his butt, having no liberty to do more than that because his hands and feet were shackled.

My jaws relaxed and a sleazy smile took over my lips, "Boiled human meat cause I'm suddenly feeling wild."