Adam watched Nur disappear into her house, a bittersweet ache in his chest. The brief warmth of their connection, a flicker of kindness in a world that had often been cruel, now felt like a fading ember. He turned his attention back to the two unconscious men, his earlier gentleness replaced by a grim resolve.
He retrieved the mask he had tucked into his belt – a plain, dark cloth that would effectively conceal his features. Justice, he knew, often required a shadow. As he approached the bound figures, a cold fury began to simmer beneath his calm exterior. The memory of his parents, their faces etched with fear and betrayal, sharpened his resolve. He would not let others suffer as they had.
Kneeling before the first man, Adam's voice, though low, held an edge of steel. "Who is your boss?"
The man stirred groggily, his eyes focusing with difficulty on the masked figure looming over him. He spat a mouthful of blood. "Who the hell are you?"
"Answer the question," Adam pressed, his tone leaving no room for defiance.
The second man, also regaining consciousness, chuckled weakly. "Look at this little brat playing hero. You think you can just waltz in here and boss us around?" He laughed again, a wet, rattling sound. "You better untie us, kid, before you get in real trouble. Apologize, help us grab that girl, and maybe our boss will go easy on you."
A muscle twitched in Adam's jaw beneath the mask. Brat. The word echoed the dismissive taunts he had endured as a child, powerless to protect his family. The image of his mothers' suffering faces flashed in his mind.
"What were you going to do with the girl?" Adam's voice was dangerously soft.
The first man grinned, a cruel, unsettling expression. "That little flower? She's a pretty thing. Maybe we'd have a little fun with her before taking her to the boss." He winked crudely at his companion, who snickered in agreement. "A few rough hands wouldn't hurt her none."
A white-hot rage surged through Adam. The casual cruelty in their voices, the utter disregard for Nur's humanity, ignited a fury he struggled to contain. His grip tightened into fists.
"Do you always do this kind of job?" Adam asked, his voice strained.
"Does a dog lick its… never you mind, kid," the second man sneered. "Hurry up and let us go. Maybe we'll even let you have a taste of that sweet thing once we're done."
Behind the mask, Adam's face was a mask of its own – a chilling tableau of fury barely held in check. The images of his parents' violation, the helplessness he had felt, threatened to overwhelm him. He fought to maintain control, focusing on the task at hand.
"Okay," Adam said, his voice low and menacing. "Where is your boss?"
The first man scoffed. "Huh? We already told you, kid. Just let us go."
"Brat, you're asking too many questions," the second man added, his voice laced with annoyance.
Before he could finish, Adam's voice cut through the air, sharp and lethal. "Where?" The raw killing intent in his tone startled both men, their bravado momentarily shattered.
"Kuala Lumpur city," the first man stammered, fear finally creeping into his eyes. "There's a… a club there. The Serpent's Coil."
"It's a big city, brat," the second man interjected, trying to regain some semblance of control. "You'll never find him."
"Hurry up and release us, you little punk," the first man pleaded, his voice trembling. "Or you'll regret ever crossing us."
The desire to kill pulsed within Adam, a dark and insistent drumbeat threatening to drown out all reason. The casual cruelty of these men, their utter lack of remorse, fueled the inferno of his rage. Be kindness, Adam, his mother's gentle voice echoed in his memory, a stark contrast to the violence that clawed at him. But another voice, gruff and pragmatic, cut through the sentimentality: Be decisive, Adam. Hesitation is weakness. This is my way.
Torn between these conflicting echoes, Adam fought for control. He needed information, and succumbing to his fury now would only hinder him. He took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to quell the tremor in his hands.
"If you were to die right now," Adam asked, his voice dangerously calm, "would you have any regrets?"
The two men exchanged a look of disbelief, then burst into mocking laughter.
"Haha! You want to kill us, brat?" the second man choked out between guffaws. "Go home to your momma, little boy. This ain't your playground."
The first man joined in, his laughter laced with arrogance. "Yeah, kid. You're way out of your league. Just untie us and run along before you get hurt."
A flicker of movement, swift and silent as a striking serpent. A glint of steel in the dim light. A thin, dark shape flew through the air, a knife like a shadow. A sharp cry of pain erupted as the blade grazed the first man's tongue, a thin red line appearing instantly. He clapped a hand to his mouth, his eyes wide with shock and a dawning fear.
Adam's voice, though still low, now carried an unmistakable edge of menace. "So, you leave me no choice but to decide for you."
Panic flared in the eyes of both men.
"No... wait..." the second man stammered, his bravado vanishing.
"Just... just release us, kid," the first man pleaded, his voice thick with blood.
Despite the chilling intent he had just displayed, a cold focus settled within Adam. The act, though necessary, was a stark reminder of the path he walked. He glanced at the knife in his hand, a tool now stained with purpose.
Taking another breath, he approached the bound men. They were secured to a nearby tree with thick, tough vines wrapped around their bodies, each hand also tightly bound.
He moved with a practiced economy of motion towards the first man. In a swift, almost imperceptible movement, the knife flashed. It sliced through both the thick vine and the man's hand as if they were mere butter. A choked scream, abruptly cut short by shock and agony, filled the air. The severed hand, still partially bound by the vine, fell limply.
The second man's eyes widened in horrified disbelief. His bravado evaporated, replaced by a primal terror. "No, wait! Please! Don't... don't do this! We'll tell you anything! Just... just let us go!" His voice was a desperate, trembling plea.
Ignoring his words, Adam turned to the second man. The knife moved again, a blur of steel in the dim light. Another clean, brutal cut. Another scream, raw and piercing, as his hand, still entangled in the severed vine, dropped to the ground.
As the horrifying silence descended, broken only by the men's ragged breathing and whimpers of pain, Adam's voice, cold and absolute, echoed. "Never show your faces here again."
Without another glance, he turned and melted back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly and silently as a phantom. The gruesome scene he left behind faded as he moved away, the image of Nur's relieved face a fragile light guiding him towards the daunting task ahead in Kuala Lumpur. The Serpent's Coil awaited.