There were saws. Bone saws. There were pliers with bits of sothing stuck in the teeth. There were hooks, filleting knives, and heavy cleavers.
"Okay," Leo muttered, "Torture room. Your standard villain stuff."
Then he looked at the bucket in the corner.
It was a large, wooden bucket, the kind used to mop floors. But it wasn’t filled with water. It was filled with chunks of red, wet at. A fly buzzed around it.
Next to the bucket was a large stone slab with a drain in the center. The drain was crusted with dried brown fluid.
Leo’s stomach did a flip.
"Or maybe it’s a kitchen?" He tried to console himself, "A lot of the bad guys like doing their dealings in cold storages and kitchens. No big deal."
"Maybe they are just... preparing dinner?" He spoke to himself.
He paused. The thought didn’t make him feel better.
"Wait. If this is the kitchen, and I am hanging here like a side of beef... that’s worse. I would rather be tortured. At least torture implies they want information. Don’t just fucking eat . You will break the egg."
He rembered Bane’s description of "The Boss."
"Ruthless doesn’t begin to describe it... They can peel the soul from your skin while you watch."
Leo tried to picture the Boss. A grotesque ogre? A scarred warlord with a necklace of ears?
What ca to mind was sothing bigger and worse than the others. With a massive, misshapen body, his wrinkly fat skin hanging heavy over thick legs. A swollen gut pushing out under dirty armour straps. His neck buried in rolls of flesh, head sitting low between hunched shoulders.
One eye half-blind and clouded, the other sunken and an. Yellow teeth jutted out at odd angles, so broken, so black with rot.
His lips were thick and cracked, always wet with spit. Old scars split his face in crooked lines, pulling his features into sothing warped and wrong.
Greasy hair clung to his scalp in thin strands. His skin looked rough, pitted, and stained, like it hadn’t been properly washed in years. Just looking at him felt unpleasant, like staring at sothing rotten that just refuses to die.
"Eeggghhh!" Leo’s skin crawled at his own imagination.
"I need to get out of here," Leo decided.
He looked at Shadow again. She was still limp, swinging slightly on her chain.
"Hey!" Leo shouted. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!"
She didn’t stir.
"Useless," Leo grumbled. "Ryana sent a defective product. I bet you tripped on your own shoes, knocked yourself out, and got caught by a guy in a velvet suit!"
"At least I fought valiantly. Hmph!" Leo snorted.
But all things said, he needed her awake. Maybe she could break her thumb to get out of the cuffs or pick locks with her teeth.
Since his hands were tied above his head, he couldn’t slap her. But his legs were free.
Leo swung his body back and forth, building montum.
"Wake. Up."
He swung his legs to the left and kicked Shadow hard in the shin.
THUD!
"Mmnngh..." Shadow groaned, her head twitching. But she didn’t wake up.
"Oh, co on!" Leo yelled, "Aren’t you supposed to be a ninja! Wake up! We are about to be turned into stew!"
He swung again, harder this ti. He kicked her in the hip.
THUD!
"Wake up, you useless flat-board!" Leo shouted, "We don’t have ti."
But no matter what he did, however hard he kicked her, nothing happened. She was out cold. Probably drugged.
"Unbelievable," Leo let his body hang limp, panting slightly, "I am stuck in a cannibal’s kitchen with a coma patient."
"If only my beautiful Seraphine were here. She would have gotten out of here."
"We would have made out while hanging to the chains."
"I would have gotten another luck boost."
"And then the chains would just beco too old and rusty, break on their own and we would be out of here in no ti."
"But Alas! If only Seraphine was here."
He looked at the door. It was a heavy iron slab with a small viewing grate.
"Hello?" Leo yelled, "Room service? I would like to order a key! And maybe so pants!"
He had realized that his Wyvern-Leather Armour had been stripped off. He was hanging there in his shirt and trousers. They had taken his boots, his daggers, and even his Frost-Edge longsword.
At least they hadn’t found out about his inventory.
"If I get out of here," Leo muttered, glaring at the at bucket. "I’m going to burn this place down."
Suddenly, a sound echoed from the hallway outside.
BANG!
It sounded like a heavy body slamming into the stone wall.
BANG!
Another slam. And it was closer this ti. Then the sound of scrambling feet, desperate and clumsy.
Leo tensed. He hadn’t even thought of a plan yet, and trouble was already knocking on his door.
And just then the heavy iron latch lifted. The door flew open, banging against the stone wall.
A man burst into the room.
It was Bane.
But it wasn’t the Bane Leo rembered.
The Gentleman Bandit was gone. The pristine blue velvet suit was shredded, hanging off his fra in tatters. His monocle was missing. His polished boots were scuffed and covered in mud. His hair, which had been slicked back perfectly, was now a bird’s nest of tangles and sweat.
His face was covered in gri, and there was a fresh, bleeding cut across his cheek. He looked like he had been dragged through the mud, tied to the back of a horse.
But it was his expression that froze Leo.
Bane wasn’t in pain. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry.
He was smiling. It was a look of pure, unadulterated, religious ecstasy.
His eyes were rolled back slightly, showing the whites. His mouth hung open in a drooling, senseless grin. He was panting heavily, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his nose.
He stumbled into the room, tripping over his own feet, and fell to his knees in the center of the floor.
"Boss..." Bane whimpered. His voice was thick with pleasure, "Please... Boss... more..."
Leo stared at him, his jaw dropping. "What the fu—"
Before Leo could finish the sentence, a black blur streaked through the open door.
It moved faster than sound.
CRACK!
A long, black whip lashed out of the hallway.
It struck Bane across his back. The sound was deafening, like a gunshot in the small room.
The whip tore through the remnants of Bane’s jacket and flayed the skin beneath. Blood blossod instantly, soaking the tattered fabric.
EVen Leo couldn’t help but wince at the sight. That had to hurt. That had to be agony.
"AHHHHHHH~!" Bane cried out.
It was a loud, wet, unmistakable moan of sexual gratification. He arched his back into the strike, throwing his head back, his body shuddering violently.
He fell forward onto his hands, panting, drooling on the stone floor as if he had just experienced the best orgasm of his entire life.
"Yes Boss! Yes!!" Bane gasped, shivering, "I am trash! A garbage! I couldn’t do one simple thing right!"
"I deserve to be punished!"
"Punish more!"
"Hit harder!"
"Be rough!"
"ss up!"
Leo hung there in his chains, staring at the scene with wide, horrified eyes.
"Okay," Leo whispered to the unconscious Shadow.
"I take it back. Being eaten might be the better option."
** ** ** ** **
[
Author’s Note: Happy New Year guys. I hope you have a wonderful 2026...
]
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