Confess or Die

[Trigger Warning: Glimpse of Bloodshed]

~Magnificent Entertainment Godown~

"Welcome, Boss," Mr. Smith's voice resonates in the dimly lit room, where shadows dance on the worn-out leather furniture.

Benedict, acknowledges his greeting with a nod.

Mr. Smith, in awe, breaks the silence. "Boss, it's been a while."

With a gaze that pierces through the shadows, Benedict confronts Mr. Smith. "This concerns my muse. How dare they try harming her! Is everything ready?" His words, laced with controlled anger.

"Yes Boss."

Mr. Smith, a sturdy presence, hands Benedict a mysterious black mask. The room seems to hold its breath as Benedict, wearing an expression of determination, secures the mask in place.

"Very well, let's enter," Benedict commands, his voice a low, commanding rumble. The atmosphere shifts, and the duo steps into the unknown, the only sound now being the subtle rustle of fabric and the quiet click of the door closing behind them.

Meanwhile, Gonzalez's driver is bound, his eyes wide with fear, surrounded by a dozen figures in ominous black masks. The scene is charged with suspense as they loom around him, creating an aura of intimidation.

"Boss, sit here," Mr. Smith presents an antique chair, and Benedict, seated with crossed legs, commands, "Shadow Mask K1, free his mouth."

A figure in a black uniform and mask steps forward, forcefully removing the tape, the sound echoing through the tense atmosphere.

The masked figure's actions echo in the room as a sharp, unsettling scream pierces the air, escaping from the tightly bound driver.

"Wh-who are you?" The driver's voice trembles with fear, his hands and legs securely fastened to a wooden board with unforgiving iron fixtures. The dim light casts eerie shadows.

Benedict, seated in the antique chair with an air of calculated calmness, leans forward. "You don't need to know who we are. What you need to understand is that your destiny has taken a rather unfortunate turn." His words, delivered with a cold precision, hanging in the air.

The driver, shivering and stammering in fear at the ghastly sight, pleads, "Wh-what d-do y-you w-want f-from m-me? I-I d-don't k-know a-anything."

Benedict, unmoved by the plea, leans back in his chair with a sinister calmness. "You don't need to know the details. Just know that your cooperation in this matter will determine your fate."

"Shadow Mask K1, drag him to the car. Shadow Mask K6, fix him to a car and hand him a bomb. Help him recall his deeds." The chilling directive cuts through the tense air, and a sense of impending doom lingers, casting a shadow over the driver's terrified eyes.

"I-I d-don't u-understand. I won't open my mouth even if you kill me.", The driver remains faithful, enduring pain and fear.

Benedict, his expression unwavering, leans forward, his eyes locked onto the driver. "So we have a daring criminal here, don't we?"

As Shadow Mask K1 drags the driver towards the ominous fate waiting at the car, and Shadow Mask K6 prepares to fasten him to the vehicle with a bomb in hand, Benedict's voice slices through the tension. "Your silence won't save you. The choice is simple—cooperate and perhaps find a way out, or resist and face the consequences."

"I won't!" The driver remains resolute to his original master, defiance in his trembling voice.

"Shadow Mask K3, prepare your gun and shoot his right leg at the count of three," Benedict commands, his tone unforgiving.

The driver trembles, his hands shaking.

"You still have time to confess the MasterMind," Benedict continues, counting down with his fingers. "3...2...1...Shoot!"

A chilling silence engulfs the room, broken only by the agonising cries of the driver as blood gushes from his injured leg. The metallic tang of blood mixes with the stagnant air. He wails out loudly.

"Will you still not reveal the Master Mind?" Benedict's voice, now laced with a more menacing tone.

Wailing in pain, the driver's eyes, blurred with tears, fixate on a detail amidst the grimness. Through the haze of agony, he notices a logo in blue on the shirt pocket of Shadow Mask K3.

Horror strikes him, and he stammers, "SMA, A-are y-you from SMA?" His hair stands on end, a visible manifestation of his fright.

Amidst the driver's agony and fear, his revelation cuts through the tension like a knife. "The most dreaded underground organisation, Shadow Mask Association (SMA) , has connections with today's incident? The one even the government's fear has connections with Gonzalez's Daughter-in-law?"

The dimly lit Magnificent Entertainment Godown seems to hold its breath, shadows playing on the walls as the weight of the driver's words settles. Benedict's face betrays a flicker of surprise, an uncommon crack in his otherwise composed demeanour.

"You sure do your homework before committing a crime!" Benedict remarks with a touch of dark irony, acknowledging the unexpected twist in this twisted affair.

The driver, now trembling and broken, stammers through his plea for mercy. "I-Its m-my f-fault p-please s-spare m-me." His voice quivers in the tense atmosphere.

"Your fault, as you call it, intertwines with forces beyond your control," Benedict remarks coldly, the words dripping with a cruel inevitability.

Gonzalez's driver, now a mere pawn in a game orchestrated by unseen hands, shivers as the reality of his situation unfolds.

"Silence your wails; they won't alter your destiny," Benedict declares, his voice cutting through the gloom.

In the dimly lit godown, the driver, now realising the magnitude of those he has offended, trembles in fear. "I-I w-will t-tell y-you e-everything. P-please s-spare m-me," he stammers, desperation etched across his face.

Benedict's gaze remains unwavering, his mask of calm calculation revealing no sympathy. "Speak, then. Your words may determine if mercy has a place in your fate."

As the driver, fueled by fear and the urgency of the moment, begins to reveal the details of his involvement, Benedict listens attentively.

"Start from the beginning," Benedict commands, his voice cutting through the driver's stammering.

Meanwhile, the figures in black masks remain statuesque, their identities concealed as they silently observe the unfolding drama.

As the driver continues his unsettling narrative, he unveils a twisted tale that began with Mrs. Gonzalez tipping him to plan a murder. He bares everything out in the open.

Benedict, the puppet master in this grim theatre, listens with a steely gaze. His mind churns as he evaluates the authenticity of the driver's confession.

"Then this isn't your first time doing such heinous acts?" Benedict's inquiry slices through the tense air.

The driver, after a momentary pause, confesses with a shiver in his voice, "Yes."

"Very well," Benedict responds with a chilling calmness. "Since you have decided you need to act, if you wish for the last chance to survive."

"I'm ready to act. Just assign me the task. I-I w-will n-not d-disappoint y-you," the driver stammers, determination laced with desperation. But before Benedict could respond, the driver loses consciousness, perhaps succumbing to the overwhelming weight of fear and pain.

"Shadow Masks Team K, untie him from the car and lock him in here. Surveil him for 24 hours, and if anyone tries to help him escape, lock them as well. Mr. Smith, contact a doctor and treat him. He is still useful," Benedict commands with a cold and calculated decisiveness.

As Benedict strides away, Mr. Smith follows him in awe, a mixture of admiration and uncertainty etched on his face. "Boss, when will you return to us? You handled the matter with minimal damage."

Benedict, his features veiled in inscrutable emotion, replies, "Not now. You handle the rest. I made you the leader 8 years ago."

"But boss, you found us. We follow you, if you don't lead us..."

Benedict pats his back, "Mr. Smith, I have long left my delinquent days. This association grew under you. Lead with the precision and tact you've witnessed today.", his words, though firm, convey a subtle trust, acknowledging Mr. Smith's capabilities.

In the wake of Benedict's departure, Mr. Smith takes a deep breath, absorbing the weight of his newfound responsibility.

Determined, Mr. Smith gathers the remaining members of their clandestine operation. "We continue. Boss may have left, but our mission persists. We all will wait for him. Maintain surveillance, and stay vigilant."

In the solitude of his thoughts, Mr. Smith contemplates, "His muse must be the way for him to return to us." The image of his boss, commanding, taking hold of the situation, and issuing orders, is etched in his mind.