Killing someone didn't just bring him joy – it was pure ecstasy.
An act of absolute control. Helios loved being the one to make the light of life slowly fade from a person's eyes. It filled him with a deep, dark satisfaction – as long as it wasn't someone he cared about. Naturally.
He had killed in countless ways: through silent assassins who took lives at his command, through poisons he had mixed with meticulous precision and handed over to state executioners. And once, at that fateful celebration, he had done it himself – in a dark alleyway. But that time, it had happened too quickly. Too suddenly. He hadn't been able to enjoy it properly.
Now, the researcher lay strapped to the table, and Helios gazed down at him with an almost tender expression. His eyes traveled over the battered flesh, the evidence of what he had already done – his creation. A macabre masterpiece of skin, blood, and fear.
He liked how the blood oozed – slow, steady, almost rhythmic. How it soaked into the fabric, painting red patterns across pale skin, like brushstrokes on a canvas. The way the victim writhed under the restraints – futile, helpless – was, to Helios, a vision of sublime beauty.
He loved every single tear shed because of him. Every stifled whimper that slipped past cracked lips. The last whispered wishes of dying men whose deaths he had orchestrated were, to him, like poetry – desperate verses muttered against the inevitable end.
No one had ever suspected he was the one behind their deaths. He had always been the silent observer, the shadow on the wall, the final flicker in their eyes before the light went out.
For Helios, nothing could surpass that feeling of power.
He killed these people. He was the angel of death who snuffed out their lights. The grim reaper who, with his bony hand, ripped souls from bodies whose time had not yet come. He was the final veil of mist settling over their eyes before he dragged them into eternal darkness.
Yes, he had hired assassins to eliminate his guards. He had crafted poisons and handed them over to executioners so the government had a new, efficient way to kill convicts. And that man at the celebration? He had killed him with his own two hands, right there in the alley. But it had happened too fast. There had been no time to savor it.
And Dante? Dante always came back anyway. It was a relief to take it out on him, but it was never final.
Not as final as the death he had delivered to the men on his way into this room. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins, his heart was still racing—he was that exhilarated.
It had been exactly the right decision to go on alone.
If he had stayed with Dante and Spider, he would've missed all of this. He felt as though he had finally unleashed something within himself—as if he had broken out, shattered his chains.
All for this moment.
He felt almost intoxicated.
Intoxicated by the blood. By the dead. He could hardly wait to keep torturing the man. And yet, at the same time, he struggled to maintain control—he wanted to savor this.
Normally, he killed his victims quickly. Cleanly. Almost painlessly.
But this…
…every cut he made brought a satisfaction he had never known before. The only thing that had ever come close was when he had been with Davis. The feeling that torture stirred in him was almost impossible to describe.
What did bother him, though, were the screams. The guy was too loud – the volume hurt his ears. It was really, really annoying.
Without warning, he grabbed the man's jaw roughly—the one who writhed on the table before him in mortal terror. He yanked his head toward him, forcing eye contact. His fingers dug deep into the man's flesh.
"We're the loud type, huh?" Helios asked calmly. "And yet, I haven't even injured anything that would kill you. Not yet, anyway. So? Do you feel like answering my questions now?"
The man on the table trembled. Pain twisted his face; a single tear slid down his blood-smeared cheek. Still, he raised his eyes—full of rage, contempt, and pride.
"Bastard…" he spat, teeth clenched.
Helios shook his head slowly. "This isn't some heroic waiting game, my dear. Do you really want to keep enduring pain like some damned martyr?"
The researcher shot him a look filled with hatred. Helios smiled.
"I was hoping you'd resist," he said softly.
Slowly, with a near-ceremonial motion, he raised the scalpel. The blade traced a long, deliberate line across the man's cheek. A scream tore through the air—raw and panicked. The researcher struggled against his restraints, but the sedative in his veins robbed him of any real strength.
"That won't do," Helios chided, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "If you squirm too much, I might cut something I actually meant to leave intact."
He lifted the blade, examined the fresh wound, the way the blood welled up, the perfect imperfection of human flesh. Then he looked the researcher in the eyes again.
"So? Where are the documents? The formulas? I know you're hiding them."
The man panted heavily. His voice was hoarse, broken. "D...down below…"
Helios raised an eyebrow. "There are more levels?" A flicker of annoyance passed over his face. The very thought of descending further with his injured foot made his stomach churn.
The researcher gave a strained grin—one that clashed violently with the fear still burning in his eyes.
"You've got a pretty face... why don't you suck my dick?"
Of course, Helios thought. There it was. He restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Clearly, the man still didn't understand who held the power in this room. Fine. Helios would make sure he did.
Everyone forged their own fate, after all—didn't they?
Helios smiled. "Oh, you want me to continue there? Gladly. I've always been curious to see what it all looks like on the inside."
With complete composure, he unbuttoned the researcher's pants.
"W-wait!" the man stammered, panic rising in his voice. "What are you going to do?!"
Helios ignored him. Calmly, he lifted the bloodied scalpel, brought it slowly to his lips, and ran his tongue along the blade. His eyes never left the man's.
"To grant your wish."
He opened the trousers fully, pulled out the limp worm of his victim, and looked down with feigned disappointment.
"Just when I hoped to have a little fun. Is that all you've got to offer?" he asked, grinning mockingly.
"P-please don't…" the man whimpered.
Helios had never been so glad in his life to be wearing gloves. He grabbed the man's penis tightly—just enough to make sure it hurt. The guy disgusted him.
"Where are the research documents? I'm not going to ask nicely one more time," he said threateningly.
He pressed the scalpel against the sensitive skin. The sharp blade cut into the flesh immediately. One more stupid remark, and he'd turn the guy into a eunuch.
The researcher's eyes were wide with fear, his breathing shallow. He stared at Helios in disbelief, lips slightly parted as if needing to convince himself this was really happening. His voice trembled when he finally spoke.
"Th-they're… one level down… the archive room is to the left from the stairs… all the way at the end of the corridor."
"There we go," Helios praised. "How do you do it? What condition are the test subjects in? What substances do you give them? Do you select them based on criteria, or just take whatever you can get? Are there multiple components needed for so-called immortality? Tell me everything."
The researcher looked at him with terrified eyes. Helios still hadn't loosened his grip. He could barely hold back his impatience—now that he knew where the archive was, every part of him wanted to move, to get there now.
But he had so many questions left—and here lay his unwilling informant, full of answers just waiting to be extracted. He felt his grin widen.
"Start talking!" Helios demanded, excitement creeping into his voice.
The researcher whimpered softly. "P-please… let me go…"
"Only when you give me more information," Helios purred. The blade still pressed into the soft, vulnerable flesh.
The researcher gasped in pain, another fearful whimper escaping his lips. Helios leaned in closer to the researchers face, the scalpel still resting against the exposed, defenseless skin.
Those little sounds sent a pleasant shiver through his body. The situation was becoming more enjoyable by the minute. Torture wasn't exactly what he associated with the joy of death—but there was something deeply satisfying about having complete control over another human being.
He loved it. And he wanted more.
The researcher swallowed audibly. "Our test subjects are nearly dead when they arrive," he whispered, his face twisted in agony, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"You give them something to keep them alive?"
"Nothing more than what's needed to stabilize their circulation," the researcher admitted.
"What exactly do you give them?"
"I-Infusions…" the man stammered.
Helios shook his head, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. "You honestly believe a little saline is enough to keep someone alive on death's doorstep?"
"T-they also get painkillers!" the researcher burst out, as if trying to defend himself.
Helios' smile widened. "Oh? How thoughtful of you. Trying to make death a little more comfortable for them, huh?"
It disgusted him. Even in experimentation, there were rules. Principles. Especially when the subject was still alive.
Fucking amateurs.
"I think I've invented more by now than all of you could ever steal," Helios said, disappointed. "Even contingency tools. What else do they get?"
The researcher cursed under his breath as Helios still didn't ease his grip.
"PX-209," he said quietly. "Also PX-114… and finally, ATP-087."
Helios' interest sparked immediately. Now it was getting interesting. He leaned in, his face so close that the researcher could feel his breath.
"Oh? Will you tell me what these cute little substances do?" he asked sweetly. His hands stayed exactly where they were, the grip firm, unwavering.
The researcher looked at him with glazed eyes. Panic flickered within them, followed by a desperate hesitation.
"They… they'll kill me if I tell you!" he suddenly screamed, his voice cracking.
Helios gave him a disbelieving look. "Are you seriously telling me you're more afraid of someone else than of me? I'm disappointed."
The researcher began to cry. His tears mingled with the blood from the cut on his cheek. It was a beautiful sight — how the dried blood came alive again through the warmth of grief.
When the man closed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, he suddenly looked... small. Broken. His voice was barely a whisper.
"PX-209 is supposed to regenerate cells… mostly blood cells. Most of them arrive here half-drained… you need time to stabilize them."
That explains Dante's accelerated healing, Helios thought.
"Is it in this room?" he asked with a calm smile.
"In the wall cabinet," came the toneless reply.
Helios kept his eyes fixed on the researcher.
In the cabinet, then…
He'd retrieve the substances once he had everything he needed.
"What does PX-114 do?"
"It affects the muscles. It stabilizes them. Primarily the heart muscle… so they can't just die of cardiac arrest."
"And ATP-087? Is that the immortality serum?"
The researcher shook his head. "No… it stimulates circulation. They can't fall asleep… it forces them to stay awake until they die," he said quietly. He whimpered again. "Please… let me go… I have a family… this is just a job…"
"The immortality serum. What's it called?" Helios asked, unfazed.
"Ambrosia. Please… let me go…" the researcher begged.
Helios burst into loud, uncontrolled laughter. The sound echoed off the bare walls, sharp and jarring in the sterile, cold silence of the room. For a moment, there was nothing but his raw amusement. Then, abruptly, he let go of the man, who closed his eyes in exhausted relief.
"Ambrosia… I can't," Helios wheezed between fits of laughter. "You give everything these delightfully cryptic codes — PX this, ATP that — and then you name your ultimate creation Ambrosia? The drink of the gods! Immortality in liquid form!"
He limped over to the wall cabinet, supporting himself lightly against the wall as he moved. His steps were heavy, the pain in his injured ankle throbbing relentlessly. But the prospect of what he was about to get his hands on kept him going.
The researcher, intimidated by Helios' sudden change in mood, hesitantly explained where the substances were stored. Helios opened the cabinet. Surprisingly neat—each small vial was labeled precisely, in legible handwriting and with its proper designation. Apparently, no one had expected someone to penetrate this deep into the facility. So it was safe to assume that nothing had been mislabeled on purpose.
He held the glass vials up to the light one by one, just to confirm that they all had liquid consistency.
On one of the tables, he finally spotted a worn gray shoulder bag, clearly used often. Maybe it had been used to transport the substances from storage to this room. Without hesitation, he began packing the vials carefully. Whether they would actually help him, he didn't know—but taking nothing would've been foolish.
Better than nothing, he thought with satisfaction.
When he nearly emptied the cabinet, his eyes locked on a small vial with a golden liquid. He checked the vial but there was nothing that could tell him the ingridients. "PL-021" was the only hint of what could be inside. The vial looked pretty old so he just put it also in the bag.
He glanced around one last time, but Ambrosia was nowhere to be seen. Helios limped back to the table. He placed the small bag on the floor beside him—gently. Nothing could be allowed to break.
"Ambrosia wasn't in the cabinet," Helios said calmly. "Where is it?"
The researcher lifted his head. His gaze was wilder than before—pain, defiance, and perhaps a flicker of self-destruction burned in his eyes.
"Fuck you. I've told you more than enough!" he suddenly shouted.
Helios raised an eyebrow. Had the man gained confidence in the few minutes Helios had spent collecting the vials?
"Now, now… who's throwing a tantrum just because I didn't give you my full attention for a few minutes?" Helios asked, disapprovingly.
"HEEEELP!" the researcher suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs.
Helios sighed.
He grabbed the researcher's most important part, placed the scalpel against it—and cut it off with a few quick slices. The scream that followed was high-pitched and piercing, enough to freeze the blood in anyone's veins. At least, for anyone who cared.
Helios tossed the useless piece of flesh behind him. The scream was so loud he didn't even hear it hit the floor. He sprinkled a bit of gunpowder over the bleeding wound, struck a match, and cauterized the blood vessels. He had brought the powder in case he needed to improvise a small explosive—but it served this purpose just as well.
The guy wouldn't survive anyway. So this was nothing more than damage control. Helios injected him with a painkiller, and once the screaming subsided and the sobs grew quieter, he gently stroked the researcher's uninjured cheek.
"You know," he said calmly, "this really isn't my style. All of this is simply the result of your own stupidity."
The researcher answered only with a strangled sound.
"Where is the Ambrosia?" Helios asked softly, almost tenderly.
The man mumbled something—unintelligible, buried under gasps and tears. Helios' expression tightened. He had no patience left for incoherent misery.
"Speak clearly," he demanded coldly. "Then you'll get more painkillers."
The tears returned. He looked more broken than ever before. But finally, he whispered:
"A… a sealed room… that's where it is… the supplies… the substances… Ambrosia too…"
"How many people have you made immortal so far?" Helios pressed on.
"Th-the painkiller… please…"
"Answer."
"You fucking bastard…" the man sobbed.
"Go on. There's still plenty I can cut off," Helios said in a conversational tone, flashing him another sugary-sweet smile.
"Not a single one…" the researcher said quietly.
So Dante is the only immortal right now, Helios thought.
He looked down at the man with a smug grin. "Don't worry. I'll get closer to the answer than you ever did. Even if you won't be around to see it."
"Just kill me already…" the man whispered, defeated.
Helios glanced at his watch. "Absolutely not. We still have a bit of time. So please—keep being my lovely distraction."
He had gotten his answers.
Now he just had to wait for Dante and Spider to show up. He'd let the little piglet squeal a bit longer—until they found him. They couldn't be much longer.
He unbuttoned the researcher's shirt and exposed his chest.
Helios looked into the man's fear-twisted face.
Lovingly, he stroked his cheek once more. "Scream for me."
Helios set the scalpel to flesh once more, humming softly as he cut into the researcher. Slice after slice. He let him bleed, savoring every fear-drenched sound the man made. The researcher's screams had long since become music to his ears. In his blooded haze he still took care not to damage any important organs or blood vessels.
Vaguely he remembered a promise he made.
But Helios felt far too intoxicated. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed himself this much.
He loved everything about this—though he didn't see prolonged torture as his preferred method of satisfaction. Giving someone a quicker death was usually more appealing.
But this…
...this would probably be the only time he truly indulged in torture—so he intended to savor every single second of it.
You should make use of every opportunity life throws at you.
And this helped him forget his own pain. In his bloodlust, he almost forgot why he was even here—how he'd ended up torturing this man in the first place. He would never be able to live without killing.
It was part of him. Always had been.
This researcher was nothing but human scum. He didn't follow any rules, not like Helios did. He tormented the dying needlessly—and if the timeline of Dante's transformation was any indication, then these people had been failing for at least ten years. Likely longer.
The files spoke for themselves.
Those damn small minds had wasted so much time on this one thing. Helios would have created the serum ages ago. He'd never have needed so long.
Then again… no one even came close to his abilities.
These pathetic minds had wasted a decade—for nothing.
He, on the other hand, wouldn't need long. He'd know how to make the serum usable, how to create new immortals. And in short time, he'd develop the antidote too. Helios looked down at the broken man on the table and imagined it was Belladonna lying there instead.
A thought took root—one he couldn't shake.
What if he made Belladonna immortal?
After all, Dante kept coming back, no matter how many times Helios had killed him. A wicked grin crept across his face. He could make Belladonna pay for what he'd done to Davis—for a very long time. He'd make him suffer.
Every. Single. Day.
Until he got bored of it.
Helios chuckled softly and continued tormenting his victim. It almost felt as if Belladonna were already paying for his sins.
And the more he cut into the researcher's flesh, the more creative his ideas for Belladonna became.
He lost all sense of time—until the door behind him suddenly burst open, someone rudely intruding on his fun.
"Helios! There you are! I was starting to worry we'd never find you!" came Spider's cheerful voice.
The next thing Helios felt was Spider's arm, draped heavily over his shoulder. The guy leaned on him like it was the most natural thing in the world—as if they were best friends. Helios' injured ankle protested immediately, but he said nothing.
He sighed quietly. Wordlessly, he set the bloodied scalpel down, then peeled off his gloves and tossed them carelessly to the floor.
He was done here. And he felt good. The bloodlust still had him firmly in its deadly grip. Even Spider was only half as annoying as usual. Helios didn't shrug him off. He let him stay, even though his ankle throbbed under Spider's weight.
"You look happy," Spider murmured softly, his voice almost tender. "I didn't know you had such a psycho in you."
Something cracked behind them. It sounded like a shoe stepping on glass.
"Helios?" Dante's voice was quiet. Almost fragile.
And perhaps… perhaps it was only in that moment that Helios truly realized what Dante had just witnessed.