He continued, his voice dripping with disdain, “My name is of no concern to you, and you’ll never learn who sent me.” “Enough of this bullshit. Bring me my tools,” I commanded, my voice a low growl that left no room for argument. Mitchel, ever the eager accomplice, handed me my bag of instruments, a sinister grin creeping across his face as he remarked, “This is going to be so much fun. Get ready to scream, no-name.” “Do your best shot, buddy. I’m not spilling regardless,” the man replied, a hint of bravado lacing his tone. “That's fine with me,” I countered, a dark thrill lighting up my core at the prospect of unleashing my wrath. This was my favorite part of the day: the moment I made my enemies scream for their lives just before snuffing them out. Rummaging through the bag, my fingers closed around my weapon of choice: a fish knife. Its design was cruel and efficient, meant for piercing flesh and causing maximum agony. I relished the thought of the pain it would inflict, th
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