Rodrigo

The dimly lit damp cellar, inside the warehouse, was shrouded in an aura of malevolence.

The air reeked of death, rotting flesh, the only sound was the soft hum of a lone flickering light bulb.

In the center of the room, a lone figure bounded to a rusty metal chair, his eyes bashed beyond recognition from endless torture.

“I swear, I don't know what you are talking about—”. He cried as a hot metal passed through his ribs. Tiny pins were being pierced inside his body.

Rodrigo ...