Diego moaned unceasingly when he was stepped on.
With a cigarette dangling from his mouth, Ivan pulled out a gun and fired without hesitation.
The bullet hit the ground near Diego's face, leaving a shallow bullet hole.
Diego immediately stopped crying out in pain, but his body twitched slightly due to the severe agony, and beads of sweat oozed from his forehead.
Ivan took another puff of his cigarette before speaking.
"You see, I'm not an unreasonable person," he said. "I'm really just here to ask a few simple questions. Personally, I'm not a fan of violence. I prefer peaceful means. ..."
At this time, Charlie noticed that the door of the bar behind Ivan slowly opened, and a man in a black vest with blood on his head staggered out.
The man was holding something ominous in his hand. It had sharp edges and corners; it loomed with a foreboding presence. Its rough and pitted surface bore the scars of time and weather, each crack a silent testament to the secrets it held.
It was a brick.
Although not a terrifying ancient artifact, the victorious expression of its wielder made one think otherwise.
Charlie saw that the man was about to sneak attack with the brick and wanted to warn his teammate. However, Ivan shot behind him without looking back, shattering the man's knee.
The man fell onto the ground with a howl, and the brick he held hit his forehead, knocking him unconscious.
This time, Charlie was dually surprised.
For one, he finds it impressively remarkable that Ivan can hit a target without even looking, and two, it seems that the brick was, in fact, just a brick.
But Damn, Charlie found it hard to believe how ruthless Ivan was.
Even the FBI has to think twice about shooting (although it's likely because they have to write a lengthy report afterward). But Ivan ransacked a bar in broad daylight, then began shooting without hesitation.
Diego, who was trampled underfoot, trembled all over at the sound of the gunshot. He now fully realized that Ivan was not like the authorities he usually dealt with.
Seeing that Ivan had turned the gun towards him again, Diego trembled and hurriedly said, "Wait, I'll tell you! I'll tell you!
It's the 'Snakehead'! Our boss recently meddled in his business, and he wanted revenge. The recent deaths you're investigating are our guys; they were killed by Snakehead, he's getting back at us..."
"Who is Snakehead?" Ivan asked.
"He's another boss in our area. His business usually involves trading illegal drugs..."
Without further ado, Ivan put the muzzle of the gun to Diego's waist and fired.
The shrill scream echoed throughout the street, the sound heart-piercing.
"Who is Snakehead?" Ivan once again asked, this time lazily puffing out a smoke ring.
Diego didn't know how Ivan saw through his lies nor how much information he had.
Dirt, blood, and tears covered his face, making him look miserable. "Please, if I talk, the boss will kill me. I still have family..." Diego sobbed
Ivan didn't speak; he just fired again. The bullet tore through his flesh; bone fragments splashed out along with his blood.
Another piercing scream echoed throughout.
"One thousand five hundred and forty-eight, assuming that all the bullets I fire remain logged inside your body, that's how many rounds I need to fire to cover the surface area of your body; hopefully, you're still alive by the time I reach your vital areas. After all, I still need you to answer my questions."
"You lunatic! Devil!" Diego screamed at the top of his voice.
"Maybe you're right; I probably am a lunatic, but..."
Ivan once again fired another shot.
"I'm a lunatic with a gun," Ivan slowly enunciated each word. "Now, Who is Snakehead?"
Shivering in either pain or fear, Diego didn't dare to lie anymore; he grits his teeth and endures the pain to confess: "Well, those dead people, those murders... they're not ordinary gang affairs.
It's us... we... we've seen the devil."
"It's a good start," Ivan nodded. "Go on."
"It was just an ordinary business," Diego said, enduring the severe pain.
"Just a standard transaction.
We arrived at the place agreed upon with the seller, paid the money, and delivered the goods.
But something went wrong on the way, and we were seen during our exchange."
The street where the bar was located was already quite deserted. The commotion scared away the few passers-by. Aside from Diego's heavy breathing and the words coming from his mouth, the street was eerily silent, so Charlie could hear their conversation clearly from the car.
When Charlie heard Diego's recollection, he thought the next plot point was that they would catch the person who saw them and argue about what to do with him or her.
"We didn't care who that guy was at the time. He looked like a homeless man, so dirty that I was too disgusted to remember what he looked like. He must have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Diego said reluctantly.
"He begged us to let him go, but we knew that was impossible.
The guy leading our team ran over him with a car several times until he could no longer be recognized. Then, as usual, we poured him into a concrete mixture.
Anyone in our line of work knows it. If you mess up, you pay the price. No one knows how many piles of concrete hide human bones in the bustling city."
These words made Charlie feel a little uncomfortable. He felt that these words might be somewhat exaggerated.
But if he initially felt a bit insecure about Ivan's aggressive tactics, now he felt that this group of people deserved it.
"This time, Chris and Dmitri from our team handled the pouring.
They have a lot of experience in this kind of work. They know the most efficient ways to dispose of the bodies so they're not easily discovered when the concrete is being used.
They finished their work quickly, and we went to have a late-night snack together that night."
Diego paused, a look of horror plastering on his face.
"But this time, it was different," he said. "The next day, without any warning, Dmitri was killed by Chris. No... No, killed would be an understatement..."
His face contorted with pain and fear, and his voice grew thicker.
"By the time we arrived, Dmitri had turned into... a rotting flesh. Chris knelt beside him, murmuring something vaguely; we couldn't properly hear what he was saying since he was also chewing at the time. He then kept stabbing Dmitri's corpse with a knife.
He didn't stop until we got to him. Then he stood up, swallowed what was in his mouth, and turned to look at us with blood all over his mouth and face. I will never forget that look.
He then laughed and proceeded to talk to us. He said..."
Diego swallowed his saliva mixed with blood, his face pale from blood loss or fear.
" ...Do you want some food?"
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