Luciano sat in the dimly lit basement, his white shirt speckled with blood, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The air reeked of iron and sweat, the muffled cries of pain echoing off the cold walls. His expression was eerily calm, his fingers methodically wrapping around the hilt of a knife as he crouched in front of the trembling man tied to the chair - Rudra.

The bastard was barely recognizable now - his once-proud face bruised and swollen, his lip split open. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to focus through the searing pain.