NERVES OF STEEL

CHAPTER 59- BLIND JERKS!

            Volkov had just gotten out of his car that night to the fuel station. The place was usually run by a few robots at that time of the night but instead, he had been surprised when a worker wearing a face mask had approached him.

              Russo adjusted the brim of his cap, his face obscured under the dim light of the deserted fuel station. He remained calm, his movements calculated. Volkov gave the man a skeptical look but then shrugged it off.

        "Fill it up." Volkov ordered curtly.
        "Sure." Russo replied, his voice low and unrecognized. He stepped to the pump and as the fuel filled the tank, Russo glanced at him. "Late night for you, huh?"

       Volkov frowned. "Mind your own business. Just do your job."
       Russo smirked. "Oh, I'm just getting started.

            In a flash, Russo reached out and yanked him by the collar, sending him sprawling to the ground.

        "What the hell?!" Volkov shouted, scrambling to his feet but Russo's fist collided with his jaw, silencing him.

             He didn't stop. No way a single punch would be enough to satiate his anger and hurt. Hurting her, equaled hurting him and while his little angel....no, fierce tigeress to be precise, was having her beauty sleep, he was out here willingly doing Justice to the damage done to her pretty face. Russo took off the face mask he was wearing. The man's eyes widened in shock.

        "G-General..." He stuttered, fear crippling him and all of a sudden, he needed no one to tell him what became of his other missing colleagues.
       "Oh I'm alive alright but that's old news already. Let's get down to business." Russo said as he produced a small handsaw from his bag. Keeping Volkov trapped underneath him, Russo gripped his left wrist firmly as he turned the device on.
        
          "This was the hand you used on her, wasn't it?" He asked, letting out a humorless grin.
          Volkov's eyes widened in terror. "Wait! Please."
         "You should have never laid a finger on her but you had to guts to lay all five? You must have been having one hell of a good day."
          "I'm sorry." He cried out. "I had no idea she—"
          
            Russo didn't wait. He sawed right through the thumb finger. It came off clean, a spray of blood painting his shirt. Volkov's scream echoed through the empty station.

            "Too late for apologies, blud." Russo muttered, his tone ice cold as he detached yet another, the index finger was gone and so was the middle finger.
        
             "You sick fuck!" Volkov cussed, his voice strained and hoarse from the pain as he thrashed underneath him to be free but Russo held him firmly in place, taking off the last two fingers.

            His screams of agony rang out once again but all Russo did was smile and admire his artwork. The blood pouring from the stumps on Volkov's hand where his fingers used to be.

             "Plotting for my downfall was something I could have easily forgiven you for but the worst mistake you ever made was to hurt my woman and for that, there is no recompense."

              He hauled Volkov to his feet and shoved him back into the car. Locking the doors from outside. Volkov panted, weeping inside his car in pain as he held onto his bleeding hand. Glancing at Russo from the window, his eyes widened at the realization of what about to become of him.

                He watched with horror in his eyes as Russo stepped back and struck a match. "No please no..." He begged, trying his best in a desperate attempt to unlock the car and get out.

            With a cruel smirk, Russo stepped further back into the distance as he swirled the keys in his left hand and then tossed the lit match stick onto the ground.