Blood dripped steadily from Arthur Maxwell's fingers, pooling beneath the chair he was bound to. His nails were gone, ripped out one by one, leaving raw, mangled flesh in their place. His head hung low, his face a grotesque mask of bruises and swelling, his skin split and bleeding. His back was a mess of flayed skin, the wounds oozing blood that ran down his sides and dripped onto the floor. The basement was a slaughterhouse, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the stench of sweat and fear.
Arthur's breathing was shallow, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. But I wasn't done with him yet. Not even close.
"SLAP."
The sound of my hand connecting with his face echoed through the basement, sharp and deliberate. Arthur's head snapped to the side, a fresh trickle of blood running from his split lip. His eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, as he struggled to stay awake.
"Wake up, Arthur," I growled, my voice low and cold. "We're not finished, Yet…"
Arthur groaned, his body sagging against the restraints. "I… I'm sorry, man… please… just kill me," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the same plea he'd been repeating for what felt like hours. But death was too kind for someone like him. Too quick. Too easy.
"No," I said, leaning in close so he could see the fury in my eyes.
"Not that easy, you pedophile scum.... You'll die when I'm done with you. Not a moment sooner."
I straightened up, pacing slowly around him like a predator circling its prey. "Now, tell me," I said, my voice calm but laced with menace, "how many HYDRA agents have you saved over your career as a District Attorney?"
Arthur's eyes widened, fear and confusion flickering across his battered face. He didn't answer right away, so I reached for the pliers on the table beside me, the metal glinting in the dim light of the basement. The threat was enough to make him talk.
"I… I don't know the exact number," he stammered, his voice trembling. "A dozen, maybe more. I just… I just did what I was told. I protected them, made sure their cases never went to trial. Please, I swear, I didn't have a choice!"
I scoffed, tossing the pliers back onto the table with a loud clatter. "You always had a choice, Arthur. You just chose power over decency… Now, tell me everything. Every name, every case, every dirty secret you've been hiding."
"AARRRGGHHHH!!!!!! PLEASE!!! STOP! I TELL! I'LL TELL!!!" Arthur shouted in pain, as his fingernails, were pulled off his fingers, one by one.
Arthur's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but the words came pouring out. He told me everything—names, dates, locations. He spilled every secret he'd ever kept, every crime he'd ever covered up. The physical torture had broken him, but it wasn't the only tool I'd used. Unbeknownst to him, I'd introduced a mind-altering gas into the basement air, a concoction designed to lower his inhibitions and amplify his fear. He was answering my questions in a haze of pain and hallucinations, his mind too fractured to resist.
When the interrogation was over, I stepped back, wiping the blood from my hands with a rag. The basement was silent except for Arthur's ragged breathing and the occasional drip of blood hitting the floor. I dragged a chair across the room and sat down in front of him, my movements slow and deliberate. Arthur watched me through swollen eyes, his body trembling as he waited for whatever came next.
"You love the fame, don't you, Arthur?" I said, my voice calm but dripping with contempt.
"The adoration. The power… You reveled in it, didn't you? And then you indulged in your perverted acts, degrading others because of their race, because of who they were.... You're a nothing but a grotesque monster, Arthur Maxwell... A stain on this world."
I stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as I pushed it aside. Arthur flinched as I approached, his breath hitching in his throat. I grabbed his bound hands, the ropes cutting into his wrists, and yanked him forward. He screamed, the sound raw and guttural, as I lifted his arms above his head.
"The law and order you hid behind are broken," I said, my voice rising with every word.
"Good people were ignored, prosecuted and harmed, while filth like you thrived. But before me, your power means nothing. There is no law here. No order. Just you… and my fury."
With a swift, brutal motion, I drove a knife through Arthur's hands, pinning them to one of the basement pillars.
"AARRRGHHH!!! IT HURTS!!" He screamed again, the sound echoing off the walls, but I didn't stop. I grabbed another knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light, and pressed it to his stomach.
"Do you want to live, Arthur Maxwell?" I asked, my voice cold and unyielding.
"YES!" he screamed, his voice breaking. "I'll do anything! Please!"
"Good," I said, my lips curling into a grim smile. "Then run for it."
"AAARRRGGGGGHHHH!!!!! BUUEEKK!!!"
I plunged the knife into his stomach, the blade slicing through flesh with sickening ease. Arthur's screams reached a fever pitch as I pulled his intestines out, cutting them and nailing them to the pillar. His body convulsed, his screams turning into gurgles as he slumped forward, held upright only by the knives pinning him in place.
I stepped back, wiping my hands on the rag again as I watched him struggle. The basement was silent now, the Silencer Disk doing its job. Arthur's punishment was far from over, but for now, I was satisfied. He would suffer, just as he had made others suffer. And when the time came, he would die—but only when I decided it was time.
Arthur Maxwell's body lay sprawled on the basement stairs, his grotesque forms a testament to the justice I had delivered. He hadn't even made it to the door before his body gave out, his intestines trailing behind him like a macabre banner. His death was gruesome, fitting for a man who had inflicted so much pain on others. I felt no remorse, no pity—only a cold satisfaction that the world was rid of one more monster.
"Seems like he doesn't really want to leave that bad," I chuckled as I watched Arthur dead body did not reached the door.
I closed the basement door behind me, the heavy thud echoing in the silence. The Silencer Disk hummed softly as I removed it from the door and stored it back in my utility belt. The basement was now a tomb, a monument to Arthur's sins. But there was still work to be done.
"Magina, how are the kids?" I asked, my voice low as I moved through the house, collecting every piece of evidence I could find. Arthur's collections—photos, recordings, documents—were all meticulously gathered and stored in a secure case. I wouldn't leave a single trace of his crimes behind.
"Both Remy and Remi are sleeping, Father," Magina's voice replied through my earpiece, calm and composed. "They're safe for now. Let's collect everything and leave this place. It's sickening to stay here even a second longer."
I nodded, though she couldn't see me. "Agreed."
Magina hadn't reminded me to control myself, not even once during this entire ordeal. She knew what Arthur Maxwell had done, and she understood the depth of my rage. I had dealt with him as harshly and as brutally as I could, ensuring his punishment reflected the atrocities he had committed. By the end, he was unrecognizable—not just physically, but in every way that mattered. He had been stripped of his power, his pride, and his humanity. And now, he was gone.
Before leaving, I placed two folders in front of the basement door. The first contained the names, photos, and evidence of every person who had died in that basement at Arthur's hands. The second folder detailed the cases he had mishandled, the bribes he had accepted, and the innocent lives he had destroyed. The evidence was undeniable, irrefutable. If the police did their jobs, they would have everything they needed to indict him posthumously.
On the basement door, I carved the same symbol I had left on Matthew White's chest—the four-headed dragon. This time, I crossed out two of the heads, leaving only two remaining. Beneath it, I left a note, written in bold, unmistakable letters: "Reveal this to the public, or I will." It was a warning, a challenge to the police to do the right thing. But I wasn't naive. I knew there was a 60% chance they would try to suppress this. If they did, I would release everything to the press myself. The world would know the truth, one way or another.
I decided to use Arthur's car to transport Remy and Remi. I had arrived on my Superbike, but with two children in tow, I needed something more practical. The BMW sedan in the garage would do. I wanted to get the kids out of this house as quickly as possible. Every second they spent here was a second too long.
When I entered the bedroom, I found Remy and Remi sleeping peacefully, their small bodies curled up on the bed. Cereal bowls were scattered around them, remnants of their first real meal in who knows how long. They looked so innocent, so fragile, their faces relaxed in a way I hadn't seen before. It was a small comfort, knowing they felt safe enough to sleep deeply.
I carefully lifted them into my arms, one at a time, and carried them to the car. They didn't wake up, their breathing steady and calm. I laid them down in the back seat, making sure they were comfortable before covering them with a blanket. Magina, remotely controlling my Superbike, followed behind as I drove the sedan out of the driveway and onto the road.
The night was quiet, the streets empty as we made our way through the city. The kids slept soundly in the back, their soft breaths a reminder of why I had done what I did. But as much as I wanted to protect them, I knew I couldn't keep them with me.
"Father," Magina's voice came through the car's speakers, breaking the silence. "We can't take care of the kids… not for now."
I clenched the steering wheel, my jaw tightening. "I know," I replied after a long pause, my voice heavy with regret. The thought of abandoning them, even temporarily, tore at me. They were so young, so vulnerable, and they had already seen the darkest side of humanity. But my path was dangerous, filled with enemies and uncertainty. I couldn't drag them into that life.
"Magina, call Michelle Amanda," I ordered, my voice firm despite the turmoil inside me. "I need to know if she made it to Xavier's place."
Michelle Amanda had followed my advice after the incident at the bar, heading to the Xavier Mansion in Westchester. If there was any place that could provide Remy and Remi with the safety and care they needed, it was there. Charles Xavier and his school for mutants were their best chance at a normal life—or as normal as it could be, given the circumstances.
As I drove, my mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead. The kids deserved better than the life I could offer them. They deserved a chance to heal, to grow, to be kids. And if that meant entrusting them to someone else, so be it.
For now, my focus was on getting them to safety. The rest would come later.
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A/N: To my Supporters, thanks for your support...sorry still editing the 2 bundle chapters. been too busy with work recently. a lot of people took 2 week holidays (Due to Eid). and i had cover 2 people shifts...and then there my family eid stuff as well (Had to bake cookies, cook traditional dishes and all)....so, really sorry about that, i'll try harder to post the 2 bundle chapters as soon as possible(if not posted today, then it was tomorrow)....it's been hectic for me these last few weeks....so, once again...sorry...and Happy eid~ enjoy the holidays guys~ (as an appology, here's an extra chapter~)