One of the Demons pulled a large knife from where it was sheathed on his belt. Turning to the survivor standing nearby, he held out the knife. The man flinched as if he had been hit. Staring at the weapon, he took a step backward.
“Whu—What’s that for?” he stammered.
“Take it, George,” the bandit holding the knife demanded in an authoritative voice.
“Why?” George asked nervously.
“You’re going to need that for what you’re gonna have to do.”
“What exactly am I supposed to do with that?” George asked meekly. He appeared far more terrified than the two survivors kneeling close by with their hands bound behind their backs.
The gangster holding the knife—who was clearly the leader of this group—was quickly losing patience.
“Just. Take. The. Fucking. Knife,” he said, punctuating each word.
The look in the gang leader’s eyes was so intimidating George immediately stepped forward and finally took the knife, holding it carefully as if it were made of eggshell.
“What do I do with it?” he squealed.
The gang leader took a step back and pointed at one of the kneeling survivors—the male one.
“Cut his face off,” he ordered.
George flinched, trembling so violently that the knife nearly fell from his grasp.
“No, no, no,” he stammered, taking a few steps back. “I can’t do it! Not to Anton. He’s my friend!”
“Tyron,” the gang leader said as he looked at the imposing figure standing behind George.
The giant named Tyron stepped in behind George, placing his enormous hands on George’s shoulders, effectively trapping him in place. George tried to break free, but it was no use.
“Jose, what’s going on?” he squeaked, his eyes wide as he stared at the gang leader standing before him.
“Let me break this down for you,” Jose began. “Pay attention, because I won’t say it again. Los Demonios was formed by someone who was a member of a cartel prior to the Collapse. They took the same principles from the cartel to create Los Demonios. That means our organization operates under strict rules and can resort to extreme violence when needed.”
Jose took a small step forward, causing George to tremble uncontrollably. He seemed on the verge of collapsing, but Tyron’s strong grip on his shoulders held him up.
“Since you’ve shown interest in joining Los Demonios, you need to take a test,” Jose said. “Anyone looking to join must pass a test to prove their loyalty to the organization. Your task is to cut this guy’s face off. Once you do this, you’ll officially become one of us. You’ll gain access to superior weapons and vehicles that you can’t find on your own. You’ll be given the means to level up faster and become a force to be reckoned with. You’ll be a part of a large and powerful organization with plenty of members who will always back you up if you ever get into trouble. There won’t be any enemies who’ll be able to harm you anymore. Los Demonios is a huge and dangerous organization, and we don’t have any enemies strong enough to pose any kind of threat to us. So tell me, do you want to be part of this? Do you want to become one of us?”
George nodded vigorously.
“Then do what you’re told,” Jose said, nodding toward the kneeling survivors.
Doubt washed over George once more.
“Why does it have to be my friend?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Can’t they just be sent to work for the gang instead? Why must they die?”
“They no longer have the option of working for us,” Jose said. “We tried to capture your group, but you opened fire on us.”
“Did you really think we would let you take us hostage without a fight?” the female survivor retorted defiantly.
“Your group killed two of my men and managed to get away,” Jose continued, dismissing her words. “Now your friends must face the consequences for their actions. We captured you, and you begged us to let you join us. You even revealed where your friends were hiding, which led us right to them.”
“You bastard!” the kneeling woman spat at George.
“But that’s still not enough,” Jose said, looking directly at him. “If you truly wish to join us, you must pass the test. If you fail it, you’ll be tortured to death along with your two friends over here. The decision is yours.”
Jose nodded at Tyron, and the giant released his hold on George’s shoulders. George hesitated for a second, then began to slowly walk toward the male survivor named Anton.
“George, what the hell are you doing?” the woman hissed at him.
“I don’t have a choice, Enid, can’t you see that?”
“Of course you do!” she said angrily.
But George continued to walk toward the male survivor, whispering under his breath, “I’m sorry, guys. I’m sorry!”
When George finally reached Anton, the captive tried to get up, but Tyron suddenly jumped behind him with surprising speed for his size. He wrapped one arm around Anton’s neck while holding the back of his head with his other hand. Anton struggled to break free, but the giant was far too strong.
“George, stop!” Enid screamed when he began to drag the tip of the knife across Anton’s forehead, drawing blood.
Suddenly, he straightened and stepped back, his hands trembling, still gripping the bloody knife.
“What’s the matter?” Jose barked. “Why did you stop? Finish what you started!”
“I can’t… I don’t know how to do it. I’ve never done anything before!”
“You just need to cut around his face, then grab the upper edge and yank the skin off. Alright, just give me the fucking knife! I’ll do it myself. You watch closely and learn, because you’re going to have to do the same to her after that,” Jose said, pointing at Enid.
Without waiting for a response, the gang leader seized the bloody knife from George’s hands and started walking toward Anton, who now had a long cut running across his forehead.
“Get your PDA ready,” Jose said to George without glancing back at him.
“Because once I’m done, you’ll need to turn on the front camera and aim it at him to let him get a good look at himself.”
Completely motionless and invisible, Jake continued to cling to the ceiling. Back when he was a survivor, he had seen plenty of mangled dead bodies not to be disgusted by gore anymore. However, seeing mutilated dead bodies was one thing while witnessing someone being tortured was something entirely different. Human suffering was way more disturbing than inanimate viscera, and only those truly evil could remain indifferent to the sight of it.
Being a morphus, he was as cold as ice and hardly ever experienced any emotions. Despite this, witnessing the cruel scene unfold below, he felt a pang of anger rise inside him. He welcomed the feeling because it meant he wasn’t a complete monster yet. Still capable of sympathizing with human beings, Jake knew he wasn’t going to let the bandits torture and kill their captives.
He detached from the ceiling and dropped to the floor. Twisting in midair, he gracefully landed on his feet, dropping to a crouch to absorb the impact. He landed so softly he hardly made a sound. By that time, Jose had already reached Anton, raising the knife smeared with blood. Tyron tightened his arm around Anton’s neck, nearly suffocating him as Jose brought the tip of his knife to the captive’s face.
A spectral figure blending with the shifting shadows and lights, Jake rose silently behind the bandits who were unaware that death itself came to claim them.