"Why do I have to be the one to do it?" Erin's voice trembled with frustration, echoing off the cold concrete walls of the room.
"Because you are one of our most trusted men," replied Larry, his tone cold and unyielding. His sharp features and piercing blue eyes seemed to bore into Erin, making the young man feel small and insignificant.
"Yeah, but this wasn't what we agreed on. You just said I would be a transporter and that's all," Erin protested, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.
The room was a bleak, windowless space, with only one door serving as the entrance and exit. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the oppressive weight of despair. Dim, flickering lights cast ominous shadows on the walls, amplifying the sinister atmosphere.
"I don't even know why we are arguing. Do you want trouble with the boss?" Larry's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin.
At the mention of the boss, Erin couldn't help but shudder. The leader of the Silver Beasts, a notorious gang, was a man feared by all. Ruthless and merciless, he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals, even if it meant torturing children. Erin knew all too well the horrors that awaited anyone who crossed the boss. He had witnessed it firsthand and had no desire to be next.
"The job starts in two days. You and the rest of the guys I rounded up will make sure it's completed. Do you understand?" Larry's voice was final, leaving no room for argument.
"Yes, sir," Erin muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.
As he left the room, Erin's anger simmered beneath the surface, unable to find an outlet. He was tired of this life, tired of always being under someone else's thumb. The bar he emerged from looked like any other seedy dive, but it was a front for the Silver Beasts' illegal operations. The gang operated with impunity, bribing the police to turn a blind eye to their activities.
Erin was a short and lean boy, average in looks and height, with messy brown hair and tired hazel eyes that reflected the weight of his burdens. His clothes were tattered and worn, a stark contrast to the opulence of the bar's interior. He trudged through the streets, cursing his fate and wondering what he had done to deserve this life.
An orphan with no memory of his parents, Erin had fled the orphanage at a young age, seeking freedom but finding only hardship. Hungry and desperate, he had stolen food from the wrong place—a bar controlled by the Silver Beasts. That mistake had cost him dearly. Beaten and nearly killed, he was spared only because the gang saw potential in him as a transporter. In exchange for his services, they provided him with a place to stay and food to eat, but the price was his freedom.
Erin's "house" was a dilapidated shack with barely a roof to keep out the elements. Insects scurried across the floor, adding to the squalor. It was far from cozy, but it was all he had. The walls were crumbling, and the floor was littered with debris. The air was damp and musty, a testament to the neglect the building had suffered over the years.
"If only my life could get better," he sighed, feeling the weight of his situation pressing down on him.
As he approached his home, he was greeted by a familiar, unwelcome face. Gordon, a fellow gang member assigned to oversee him, was waiting. Gordon was a hulking figure, towering over Erin with a physique that radiated power and menace. His dark eyes gleamed with malice, and a cruel smile played on his lips.
"Hello, Erin. How are you, my good friend?" Gordon's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Hello, Gordon. Nice to see you," Erin replied, forcing a smile.
"So, where's the payment?" Gordon demanded, his eyes narrowing.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't—" Erin began, but he was cut off by a punch to the gut.
"I asked where the money was. I don't want any excuses," Gordon growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Despite being assigned to look after Erin, Gordon was anything but a caretaker. He delighted in making Erin's life miserable, extorting money from him and beating him for the slightest provocation. Reporting Gordon's abuse to the gang had only made things worse, so Erin had learned to suffer in silence.
"Sir, they only called me to talk about a job, and that's all," Erin explained, trying to catch his breath.
"Oh, is that all? But now I'm in a bad mood, so I need to take it out on something. What better person than my good old friend Erin? So, do you want to spar?" Gordon's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure.
"Sir, but you always beat me. I'm powerless," Erin protested weakly.
"Yes, and that's why I love to fight you," Gordon sneered.
With a flick of his wrist, rocks began to float from the ground, coalescing around his hand until it was encased in a solid mass of stone. With a cruel smile, he swung his rocky fist at Erin.
Erin tried to dodge, but it was futile. The punch connected with his face, sending him crashing into a nearby wall, leaving a small crack in the plaster. Pain radiated through his body as he struggled to get up, but Gordon wasn't finished.
"Come on, Erin. Get up. I know you can take more than that," Gordon taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.
Erin forced himself to his feet, his vision swimming from the impact. He knew he had no chance against Gordon, but he had to endure. He had no other choice. Gordon's rocky fist swung again, this time aiming for Erin's stomach. The blow landed with a sickening thud, and Erin doubled over in agony.
"What's the matter? Can't keep up?" Gordon laughed, enjoying the sight of Erin's suffering.
Erin's mind raced, searching for a way out. But there was none. He was trapped, a pawn in Gordon's sadistic game. Another punch, this time to his ribs, and Erin felt something crack. The pain was excruciating, but he refused to cry out. He wouldn't give Gordon the satisfaction.
"You're pathetic, Erin. Always have been, always will be," Gordon spat, his voice filled with disdain.
Erin collapsed to the ground, his body wracked with pain. He couldn't move, couldn't fight back. All he could do was endure. Gordon stood over him, a look of contempt on his face.
"Don't worry, we'll continue later. Maybe after your job," Gordon said, kicking Erin one last time before walking away.
Erin lay on the ground, unmoving, until the pain finally roused him hours later. Every part of his body ached, a constant reminder of his suffering. He staggered inside his shack, finding it as desolate as ever. The bed was little more than a pile of tattered fabric, and the meager food left for him had already been picked over—no doubt by Gordon.
This was his life, a cycle of abuse and deprivation. He had no money, no food, and no hope. All he wanted was a normal life, to wake up in a house with a roof, eat a full meal, and sleep in a comfortable bed. These simple desires seemed like unattainable luxuries.
"One day, I want to be free from this hell and live a good life," Erin whispered to the empty room, unaware that his wish would soon set him on a path far more dangerous and extraordinary than he could ever imagine.
As he lay on his makeshift bed, Erin's thoughts drifted back to his past. He remembered the orphanage, a cold and unwelcoming place where he had spent his early years. The other children had been cruel, and the staff indifferent. Running away had seemed like the only option, but it had led him to an even harsher reality.
He thought of the bar, the place where his life had taken a turn for the worse. It had seemed like a haven at first, a place where he could find food and shelter. But it had quickly become a prison, with the Silver Beasts controlling his every move. The gang's influence was pervasive, their reach extending into every corner of the city.
Erin's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside. His heart raced, fearing it was Gordon returning for another round of abuse. But the footsteps passed by, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't take another beating, not tonight.
As he drifted off to sleep, Erin's mind was filled with dreams of a better life. He imagined a world where he was free from the gang's grasp, where he could live without fear and pain. But even in his dreams, the shadows of his reality loomed large, a constant reminder of the life he was trapped in.
Morning came too soon, and Erin woke to the harsh reality of his existence. His body ached from the previous night's beating, and he knew he had to prepare for the job Larry had mentioned. Failure was not an option, not if he wanted to avoid Gordon's wrath.
He made his way back to the bar, his steps slow and deliberate. The city was waking up around him, the streets filling with people going about their daily lives. Erin envied them, their freedom and normalcy a stark contrast to his own existence.
The bar was already bustling with activity when he arrived. The Silver Beasts were planning something big, and Erin knew he had to be ready. Larry was waiting for him, a grim look on his face.
"Are you prepared?" Larry asked, his tone leaving no room for questions.