Sequel of chapter 7
"Where are the rest of your group members?" Ashwath demanded, his voice laced with authority and determination, directed at the terrorist they had apprehended. The interrogation took place in a dimly lit room, shrouded in darkness and filth. The captive sat on a wooden chair, his bare torso adorned with wires connected to a box emitting electric shocks. His hands and legs were securely bound to the chair, rendering him immobile and at the mercy of his captors.
Adjacent to him, a table held an array of ominous tools: a can, a screwdriver, a long rod, and an ECG machine, monitoring the terrorist's heart rate as part of the interrogation process. The man's face bore the marks of violence, with blood trickling from his mouth, evidence of the forceful tactics used during the interrogation.
"You can kill me, I will not say anything," the terrorist muttered defiantly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Spill it out, or you'll be begging for death," Ashwath retorted, his tone steely and unwavering.
Despite the threat, the man remained silent, refusing to divulge any information. Determined to extract the truth, Ashwath reached for a screwdriver. With a grim resolve, he gripped the tool and swiftly extracted one of the man's teeth. Blood spurted forth, mingling with the teeth as the terrorist clenched his hands in agony, yet still, he remained resolute in his silence.
"Say it now, or things will get even more horrifying," Ashwath warned, his voice tinged with frustration and impatience.
With a grim determination, Ashwath proceeded to forcibly remove the terrorist's nails, one by one, causing excruciating pain. Despite the agony and bloodshed, the man remained steadfastly silent.
Losing his patience, Ashwath grabbed a wet cloth and placed it over the man's face, then reached for the can. With a deliberate motion, he poured its contents over the captive. As the liquid splashed onto his face, the terrorist trembled in suffocation, but still, he refused to divulge any information.
"I will die for my country, but I will never say anything," the terrorist declared, his voice trembling as he struggled to catch his breath.
"If you don't, you will lose all your teeth and nails," Ashwath responded firmly, his resolve unwavering.
"If I die today, let my parents know that I died for my country," the terrorist pleaded, his patriotism shining through even in the face of imminent danger.
"They won't even know that you're not alive," Ashwath retorted coldly, emphasizing the harsh reality of their situation.
Despite the pain coursing through his body and the uncertainty of his fate, the terrorist continued to speak, his voice echoing with determination. "I hope my teammates are safe. I will never give up on my soldiers."
Near his mouth, Ashwath held the screwdriver, poised to inflict further pain, but he hesitated, momentarily moved by the man's unwavering loyalty to his comrades.
In that tense moment, as Ashwath pondered the terrorist's unwavering loyalty to his country and his comrades, the unexpected occurred. The terrorist suddenly thrust his head against the screwdriver, driving it into his mouth. Blood gushed forth as he trembled violently, eventually collapsing with the chair, his lifeless body falling to the ground. The room was soon filled with the chilling stillness of death, the floor stained crimson with blood, and the ECG machine emitting a steady, ominous tone.
Ashwath stood there in shock, struggling to comprehend the sudden turn of events. Confusion and disbelief clouded his mind as he grappled with the grim reality before him. Soon, others rushed to the scene, their faces reflecting a mix of horror and astonishment.
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THE END
Acción" What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." -T.S. Eliot In the enigmatic town of Kshaya lurks a figure shrouded in infamy: SHAITAN, the most wanted criminal whose true id...
