A villain for life.

Seven.

Okay some of you're dying to get a peek into Olyver's past, I let you wait no more :D

xxx

Olyver watched the excited tourists running about with their cameras filling up their memory cards with selfies in front of the Eiffel tower replica in Paris Las Vegas from a little café by the road, the salt and pepper shakers lying next to his half-finished meal he was toying with faded as his thoughts were tossed back to a time when he was dead — and yet somehow he still breathed.

He was in a dark filthy and secluded cell. It was where they taught them discipline.

It all started when he was approached by an agency that went by the name 'The Enterprise', this highly classified elite organisation trained criminals into craftier and lethal killers, there was also a certain criteria by which they stringently hired and Olyver had matched most of it down. The rest that weren't, were drilled into him mercilessly.

What they also failed to mention was that it was a contract from hell, not one you could easily dismiss because your working conditions weren't to their best.

They were made to pull twice their body weight equipment's, run countless laps mercilessly and their physiques pushed to their physical limits at all times.

But, what Olyver remembered clearly were the punishments given to them for the slightest misdemeanors, he remembered how his arms where shackled up by convoluted iron manacles above him for hours together, his head held under freezing water for long cruel minutes and the hot blistering heat of the iron branded into his back and hips as part of their motivation program.

He and a few others he would come to know later as members of his team were beaten short of their death and then thrown into dirty shit-coated cells.

In a couple of days that the guards had watched and scrutinized his progress, Olyver had also managed to study them. There was Prick tease who liked to entice the prisoners with phone calls, a happy meal and possible freedom and then after an agreement was set report them for a good lashing. There was Porky who watched them with his vile little piggy eyes from the security room.

Then there was the rapist who disappeared for hours together into a cell with one of the prisoners who looked a bit feminine with his long blonde hair. All that was heard was the awful off key singing he used to poorly cover up the horrific screams of his victim. Until one day there were no more screams.

Most of the guards where well trained possibly with military backgrounds, cultured yet at the same time brutal individuals, they all enjoyed the perks of their work.

Sadistic training and making their prisoners scream for their mommies.

He remembered their flaws, tics and inclinations. Yet try as hard as he would, he could not remember the people who controlled the organisation, the elites who ran The Enterprise.

He would have met them at some point of his "training" he now knew for sure, they had fucked with his brain at some point, wiped out his memory, leaving in the nasty bits.

One day their training schedule changed. The guards had gathered the remaining men who had survived the weeks of animalistic torture and thrown them into a windowless room for two days without food and water.

On the third day, they arrived with bags of weapons, they oddly divided the sore and tired men into two groups. Some of them were called out and given a weapon, while the others looked on brazenly too exhausted and nearly comatose to give a shit.

Minutes ticked by and then it dawned on them what was to be done.

One of the men on the verge of a mental breakdown shouted "Fuck this" and took his long jagged saw like knife, grabbing one of the weapon less guys by their hair he drew it against their jugular in one quick long swipe.

There was one other thing Olvyer would never forget as he waited his turn, he felt a strange rush of exhilaration. He couldn't comprehend the reaction, and he couldn't put it down. As he waited he had wondered if he was euphoric because he'd soon be free of his desolation.

Or maybe he'd finally grasped who and what he really was, and how his conceptual system worked. He got a kick from death — even if it meant his own.

Hot coffee was being poured into his mug and Olyver came back to the present, he reread an article from a newspaper dated a year back, written by a Gia Fisher. After he was done he crumpled it and aimed it right into the bin and took off into traffic towards the Buddhist temple in North Vegas.

xxxxxx

Pheew was that intense or what? :D

 Sadly, I won't be posting for another week or so until August, cuz exams *pouts*

Anyone else hate's exams?  Ohh the stress and the mental torture that come with it!

Press on the little star at the bottom of the page and you make me very happy :33

ciao xox