In the Green City, in one of the most posh hotels in the Southville region, screams echoed through the soundproof walls of the penthouse as a man, kneeling on the ground, looked up, tears streaking his face.
His mouth was gagged, disabling him from speaking as he struggled against the ropes that tied his hands.
The soft cries from the core of his throat resonated like music to the man sitting in the center of the large couch, one hand resting on the cane set with diamonds, the other holding a gun, moving it to the rhythm of the song.
The lights were dimmed, with the chandelier the only source of illumination, and the perpetrator at the center.
"Mmm!" The man cried for mercy.
The man, in his late fifties, on the couch, signalled to his man, and the subordinate walked forward before removing the gag with a jerk, ripping the side skin of the man's lips.
