As they trailed El-Sidiq through the winding hallway, the air grew thick with dullness. The damp, grey walls seemed to press in around them, exuding an aura of dread and despair. The musty scent of decay clung to every surface, heavy with the weight of secrets and suffering.
As they rounded a corner, a row of cells came into view, their rusted doors a testament to the longevity of the brutal confinement within. Iron bars, consumed by time and neglect, grasped like skeletal fingers, imprisoning hopes and dreams. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls, as if the very spirits of the past whispered warnings to the living.
They halted at the last cell in the hallway, where a guard stood guard. He nodded respectfully to El-Sidiq, then extended a hearty handshake to Khalil and Anwar.
El-Sidiq entered first, his calculated steps echoing through the cramped space. Khalil followed, his movements deliberate. Anwar hesitated, but stepped inside nonetheless.
The stale air assaulted them, heavy with the putrid stench of human waste and the acidic odor of metal. The odor was overpowering, making both Khalil and Anwar wrinkle their noses in distaste. El-Sidiq, however, remained composed.
"Here is our guy," El-Sidiq's low, deep voice rumbled, as he stood beside a figure suspended from the ceiling, limbs limp and lifeless.
The man's face was a grotesque map of suffering, disfigured beyond recognition. Blood dripped from his shattered nose, while swollen eyes oozed pus, inflamed and infected.
"Is he dead?" Anwar asked, his curiosity piqued, voice tinged with unease.
The figure hung motionless, toes barely grazing the damp, concrete floor. Anwar's face twisted in horror at the gruesome sight. Despite their need for answers from Bala Sufi (Daggash), Anwar knew this level of brutality wasn't justified.
El-Sidiq's gaze lingered on the figure, his expression unreadable. He clicked his tongue against his palate, a sharp, dismissive sound.
"Nyet, he's not dead. Just a whimpering mess."
The Russian's gaze swept over Daggash's battered form again, with disdain. "We barely touched him. This is just a beginner's punishment."
Anwar's eyes widened as he turned to Khalil, whose expression remained blank. His sharp features were set in a stoic mask as he took in Daggash's battered form.
"If this is a beginner's punishment," Anwar said, turning to El-Sidiq, "I'm curious to see what your actual punishment looks like."
El-Sidiq's deep laughter rumbled from his throat,cutting through the silence.
"I can show you. Cell 12 has a prisoner who has experienced, our... hospitality. We can visit after we're done here."
Anwar's face paled. Shaking his head, as he declined the offer.
"No, I'd rather not. I'm already fighting to keep my stomach contents in check."
Khalil and El-Sidiq shared a knowing smile at Anwar's confession. El-Sidiq led them back to his office, where he settled into his chair, while Khalil and Anwar sat opposite him.
"Has he talked?" Khalil asked, his eyes locked on El-Sidiq.
El-Sidiq snorted, clicking his tongue in disgust.
"Da, he crumbled quickly. Didn't take much to make him spill."
Khalil nodded, crossing his arms, his bulging muscles tensing. "What are we up against?" he asked.
El-Sidiq's expression darkened, his blue-green eyes clouding. "Old foes have returned."
Khalil's gaze snapped to El-Sidiq, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?" his soft tone laced with curiosity.
YOU ARE READING
DARK HORSE: REDEMPTION
RomanceTasnim entered the room with a gentle 'Salam', but the silence was deafening. The pungent smell of cigar smoke assaulted her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose in distaste. Where was it coming from? She hesitated, tempted to retreat to the kitche...
