The frigid December air bit at the edges of the massive dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts of Novodvanisk, Russia. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the shattered windows, settling on the concrete floor, while a violent snowstorm raged outside in the dead of night.
Puddles of melted frost reflected the flickering light of a single overhead fluorescent bulb. The atmosphere was heavy with the acrid stench of old machine oil and the faint metallic tang of blood. The dim light flickered sporadically, casting eerie shadows across the warehouse, packed to the brim with goods stacked high on hundreds, if not thousands, of shelves.
At the center of the room, a young boy sat perched on the edge of a steel desk, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, as a puff of smoke exited his mouth. He couldn't have been more than fourteen, his frame wiry but muscular, betraying years of physical training, with the sew marks on his pale neck and red tongue and as well as a barcode on his left cheek and a small black centipede tattoo, marking his position as an ex-experimental subject, treated lowlier than the lowliest of livestock.
His wide, childlike, innocent-looking pitch black eyes were focused intently on the man bound to a chair before him. His mixed heritage was evident in the angular lines of his face; his Korean lineage blending seamlessly with the subtle sharpness of his Japanese and Russian ancestry, with his slightly chubby cheeks that betrayed a hint of cuteliness, handsomeness, and feminism, not displaying an ounce of extra fat on his body.
His beautiful and slightly long raven black hair was slightly unkempt, a few strands falling over his face as he exhaled a plume of smoke into the freezing air with his small lips, with a small braid tied swinging in front of his left ear, dangling from the side of his hair.
The boy was dressed in a black tight t-shirt, worn black pants, and combat boots, each piece of clothing marked by wear and battle. Behind him stood an impressive display of firepower: rows of rifles dominated by the infamous Automotiv Klashinkov, crates of ammunition, and shelves lined with grenades, C4s, pistols, revolvers, and even heavier weaponry.
He was no ordinary mercenary; he was an arms dealer, running a thriving business supplying weapons to clients on both sides of conflicts. His meticulous organization and intimate knowledge of every weapon in his arsenal spoke to his expertise.
"You are not giving me what I want"
The boy who had yet to achieve adulthood declared, his voice neutral, not too soft nor deep, devoid of any mockery or contempt. Despite his youth, there was a gravity to him that silenced any doubts about his authority, his expression unreadable as it was.
"I hate thinking you are wasting my time. Time is…..expensive. Really."
Bound in a chair seated in the middle of the room, a middle-aged operative with a swollen face and bloodied lips, squirmed against his bindings. His breath came in shallow gasps, the fear in his eyes palpable.
"I-I don't know anything else! I swear!" he stammered, his voice cracking with desperation and plead.
The boy's remained quiet, taking a few drags of his shrinking cigarette, as it threatened to burn the tip of his fingers.
Psss!
The boy threw the cigarette to the ground before he stepped on it without much effort, sharply exhaling the cold, frigid air of winter. He swiftly picked up a normal bowie knife with a dark gray blade from the desk, turning it in his hand as though weighing its worth.
"You are lying"
He sighed, his tone devoid of anger or frustration. It was almost as if he was merely pointing out to a friend of his, accusing him of lying he had committed shamelessly.
The man's protests turned to incoherent pleas as the boy stepped closer, crouching so they were eye-to-eye, as the boy blinked a few times while tilting his head, looking at him.
"Do you know what the date is today?" he asked, his voice eerily conversational.
The man shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face.
"It's December 24"
The boy continued, opening his cigarette box and taking out a new cigarette, lighting it.
He exhaled a puff of smoke into the man's face.
"Almost Christmas, I say. Unfortunately, as you can see, I am having a hard time holding myself from killing you. I would appreciate it if you would just spill the beans, or let the beans just spill. Don't like games, I suppose."
He pressed the flat of the blade against the man's cheek, the cold, firm steel making the prisoner flinch.
The boy's eyes that were on the man seemed as deep as the abyss, seemingly staring into the man's soul, as the poor thing of a man shivered.
"...Hm"
The boy seemed to have changed his complex mind as he withdrew the knife, casually tossing it casually back onto the desk, and instead clapped his hands twice in succession to the mans surprise and confusion.
His confusion however was short lived as he heard hurried footsteps outside the door and a light knock on the door of the warehouse that seemed to echo across its halls that were devoid of anything other than weaponry. It truly was a miracle that a soul could survive the harsh weather outside and bear with it.
"...Enter"
Before the bound man had yet to understand his current predicament, The door creaked open, and a towering figure stepped inside.
He was a burly man, easily seven feet tall, with short pale blond hair and piercing dark blue eyes. Scars crisscrossed his face, the most prominent one running from the top of his right eyebrow down to the base of his neck. Resting casually on his shoulder was a large automatic firearm: an M240B machine gun, its dark metal gleaming ominously in the dim light.
The man's tactical military jacket was thick and rugged, designed for the harsh Russian winter. His heavy dark pants were reinforced with padding, and his rubber-soled combat boots that were hard enough to crush the skull of any unfortunate victims.
Despite the man's size and muscles that threatened to burst out of his clothing, he was very calm and respectful. At least towards the boy that was currently blinking his eyes several times in a row.
He spoke in a deep yet calm voice, as if he was the calm before the storm, ignoring the bound man in the room as he looked at him with horror.
What had awaited him?
'Who the fuck did I try to mess with? God sure fucking hates me for taking my luck like that on Christmas….Waaaah…..Fuck, fuck! I don't get paid enough for this shit...I'm sorry Lauren, I don't think I can go with you on the date I promised!'
The man thought as his eyes became moist, regretting his foolish decision of attempting to betray such a ruthless man-err or boy.
"You called for me, sir Yuuta?" The burly man asked, with a cruel glint flickering in his eyes for a moment, quickly disappearing as it appeared.
The boy blinked a few times and tilted his head before nodding and gesturing towards the pitifully bound man that seemed to be having a mental breakdown and questioning his nihilistic life with a small wave of his hand.
"Vladimir. Bring me the lab coat and the glasses," The boy said. "Push the cart in here. The one with the… substances. Yes, those substances."
Vladimir nodded without hesitation, turning on his heel and leaving the room. The heavy thud of his boots echoed until they faded into the distance with the violent huffs and puffs of the air that seeped through the cracks, with the occasional sound of splashing echoing from the melted snow inside the warehouse.
The bound man's breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving as panic set in.
"W-what are you going to do to me?" The man whimpered, not understanding the weigh of his words.
The boy's gaze shifted back to his prisoner, tilting his head once more.
"I am going to make you quite useful, I suppose" he said simply, his voice devoid of malice.
"Y-you… You won't… won't get away with this!!" The man cried in desperation, attempting to find a way to escape, however, it was futile.
Screech!
Moments later, Vladimir returned, pushing a metal cart laden with different vials, syringes, and containers filled with strange, creepy substances. In his other hand, he held a pristine white lab coat and a pair of round glasses. He placed them on the desk without a word.
The boy slipped the oversized lab coat on as the end of the coat softly brushed against the dam, freezing floor, its oversized sleeves hanging slightly past his wrists. He adjusted the round glasses on his nose, their round frames giving him an air of eerie professionalism.
"Thank you, Vladimir," he said, taking a syringe from the cart and drawing a clear liquid into it that seemed squirming as if it were alive.
The bound man thrashed against his restraints, screaming incoherently as the boy approached.
"AAAAH, FUCK! Don't you dare—!"
"Hold" the boy said, his voice as calm as ever.
Vladimir complied with his masters words, as he brought his two large hands that were capable of denting iron, firmly gripping the mans shoulders as he became hysterical.
The man's screams echoed through the warehouse as the syringe plunged into his arm.
Immediately, his body convulsed violently, veins darkening and bulging grotesquely as the substance coursed through him. Blood seeped through all the open pores of his body from his eyes, ears, nose, an even privates. The man quickly broke out of his binds and immediately starting screaming as if he were getting burned by the darkest flames of the abyss.
The man clawed at his face viciously, as his nails broke, face became grotesque, and blood poured from his head where the man had kept pulling his hair until it ripped a part of his skull.
SSSSSHGHGH!
His screams turned to gurgles as the man clawed at his neck, struggling to breathe and banged his head against the hard and cold concrete.
However, out of nowhere before the man could cross the river Styx, his body inflated and...…
SPLAT!
The man exploded and splattered everywhere, painting the room gory red as blooming red lilies with pieces of organs being here and there.
The boy who had the color red staining his white lab coat and glasses went silent for a moment, stepping back and gently putting back the empty syringe onto the cart.
Silence.
Yuuta stood blanking out for a moment, staring in front of him to particular no where for a long moment. Then, to Vladimir's utter shock…..
Drip, drip
Tears welled in Yuuta's pitch-black eyes.
They streamed down the face of the boy as he sniffed and covered his eyes with his hand. Vladimir still had his mouth a gap from the unexpected reaction!
Yuuta was known all over Russia, North Korea, the US, China, Japan, and several other countries as a ruthless illegal arms dealer. He was given the nickname of 'Yuuta the Empty', also known as Mr. Olympia due to his lack of empathy no matter who he killed and tortured, be it man, woman, child, or even elderly.
He spared no one and found glee in torture. This, with his famous arms dealing organization was enough to even make the higher ups shake in their boots with the mere mention of his name! His organization dealed with all kinds of weapons, from normal cold weapons, to firearms, to explosives, to missiles, to illegal chemicals, and even biological weapons, nothing was spared from his clutches!
Not only was he so ruthless, his manipulation tactics and strategies were known so far and wide. There was a wide spread rumor that once, when the Interpol had assigned a bounty of 25 million dollars to whoever caught him, the next day, half on the Interpol was wiped out by an unknown organization also known as 'Sphinx', or Yuuta's arms dealer company.
From the day onward, the government decided to turn a blind eye to such an individual, despite his young age.
Although no one actually knew how many people he had killed in his lifetime, there were rumors going on that they exceeded 45 million personally, save for those that were indirectly killed by his arms dealing business.
Not only this, he was the main cause of the start of the war of SALT IX, an international Opium drug war. A mere 14 year old, started an opium drug war when it was revealed to the US government and the UN that Yuuta had tens of large opium farms that were found in many countries such as Columbia, New Mexico, Tamnasia, and Afghanistan.
He became the main supplier of opium and LSD from the ergot fungi in the world, creating different kinds of drugs and opoids such as Heroin, Tramadol, and Morphine. Although this seemed quite fine compared to his other crimes, there were anonymous sources that had whistleblowed and leaked to the government that the fertilizer he used was the corpses of the labor farmers that died growing the devilish plant and other unfortunate victims that were shot.
The number of corpses used as fertilizer for the opium, while watering it with the blood of such individuals exceeded hundreds of millions, with the order of corpses coming from all around the world.
He was hunted down by several bounty hunters assigned by the highest authorities, the US, Canada, China, even peaceful organizations such as the UN, yet not one of them returned from their mission.
And this boy, who was known as one of the worst criminals in the history of the 21th century, was crying after killing a mere man who held no value even though the boy was charged for hundreds of crimes, where even one was enough for him to either spend thousands of years in prison, or the most painful execution, from crimes against humanity, organ trafficking, cannibalism, extreme swindling, illegal arms dealing, patricide, homicide, genocide, etc.
Of course Vladimir would be stunned to no bound. If not witnessing it himself, if a normal man had went and told him that Yuuta had cried after killing a man, he would've ran him over with a pick up truck a hundred times over!
'What has come upon Sir Yuuta?! Perhaps a demon has possessed him??' Vladimir thought inwardly as his emotions were in turmoil, however he shook his head.
However, Yuuta's next words sent a shiver down Vladimirs spine as he understand why he was crying. Despite Vladimirs ruthlessness when given orders by his boss, Yuuta was on a whole different level.
"This…..truly a magnificent scream."
It was his secret, he loved listening to such beautiful screams as if they were orchestras.
Yuuta said as he took of his glasses and wiped the tip of his eyes using his long sleeve and held his heart with a beautiful and cute smile on his face, with his mouth going literally from ear to ear, creating a creepy smile instead, as if he had the ability to swallow a head whole.
*CLAP**CLAP**CLAP*
He began to applaud. His hands slapped together, harder, faster, as his tears continued to fall. The sound echoed eerily through the warehouse. Tears poured out of his eyes, as if he was almost regretting the man not screaming even more. The scream was akin to a beautiful orchestra to Yuuta's eyes. His clapping diminished after a few minutes, as he collected himself, wiping away his tears and taking off his lab coat and glasses, put them upon the cart.
"Vladimir, did you record his scream?"
Vladimir stood silently, his massive frame motionless as he observed the scene, still unable to process what he was seeing.
"Vladimir?"
The boy called him once more and tilted his head, unable to understand what he was so stunned about.
"Y-yes, boss!" Vladimir exclaimed as he vowed in his heart to remember to never betray him. He quickly composed himself as he changed back to his ruthless and obedient personality, as he saved the audio file on his phone.
"Good"
The boy prepared to leave the warehouse as he he took a black suitcase and placed it on the desk, unlatching it.
Inside lay a gleaming bar of gold, a Microtech Jagdkommando knife, a Microtech Ultratech OTF knife, a CRKT Provoke karambit, a beautiful sharp silver scalpel with the words 'Liber Primus' carved on it, a silver colt anaconda with a few .44 magnum rounds to play Russian roulette when he was bored, a small packet of Opium seeds which were his favorite plant, and a beautiful Swiss Army knife.
He gently cradled the beautiful knives, inspecting and caressing them as if they were his precious children, confirming that they were all shining in beauty.
He adjusted a fresh pack of expensive cigarettes beside the knives before closing the suitcase with a firm click.
He opened another metal greyish suitcase that was besides him, and blinked several times as he gazed at the beautiful m2010 sniper rifle that was within as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, before closing the suitcase and carrying both of them.
He stripped off his combat attire, snapping it for a simple black cap, a plain black T-shirt, and normal, white shorts, wearing flip flops which perfectly fitted on his pale skin, despite the freezing weather that exceeded -65 degrees Celsius. He wore a XL grey puffy jacket with a very long white scarf, that looked hilarious on his small body. With his suitcase secured, he gestured to Vladimir, who had been waiting patiently.
Seeing his boss ready to take off, Vladimir nodded his head as he gestured him to follow him.
"Let us be on our way" He commanded