We are led to the cellar and when I walk in the man tied to the chair smiles at me. His brown eyes are sparkling with amusement. To their credit the dude is a bloody mess, but there are barely any missing teeth or broken fingers. It looks like they just punched him. Now where is the fun in that?
The guard unlocks the cell doors and I walk in, grabbing a knife from my boot.
“So. I was told you didn’t want to talk.” I say, circling the man. He doesn’t reek of fear like I’m used to, and it urks me.
“Those two idiots couldn’t get me to talk, what makes you think you can?” He asks and I chuckle darkly, then stab him in his shoulder, popping his socket out of place, while cutting the ligaments, and sending electricity down the blade into the wound. His screams are music to my ears.
“Because
