Chapter 39: The Best Way to Protect a Secret
Fran saw David approaching and tried desperately to escape, but he couldn't get away.
"Help! Help!"
He tried to cry out, and his voice carried far, but in this abandoned suburban factory, no one would come.
David walked closer step by step, the sound of his footsteps like the tolling of hell's funeral bell in Fran's heart, filling him with dread.
"Listen, imprisoning and harming a detective is a federal felony!"
Fran swallowed and said.
A seventeen-year-old high school student might just be acting on impulse; he wanted to persuade and frighten David into abandoning his irrational actions.
Smack!
David calmly knocked down Fran, who was tied to a chair, forcefully turned his head, and placed a wet towel over his face.
"Waterboarding, since its inception in the Middle Ages, has been known as one of the most inhumane torture methods in human history."
His calm and steady voice carried a chilling ruthlessness that made one's blood run cold.
"I like this method of torture; it's simple, effective, and doesn't involve bloodshed."
"No... No!"
Realizing what was about to happen, Fran cried out in panic.
He tried to struggle his head, but David's hand was like a vise, unmoving, and he couldn't break free.
Splash!
David held a water bucket weighing dozens of pounds steady in one hand, slowly and steadily pouring water, which flowed under the towel and into Fran's nose and mouth.
"Help... help..."
Fran's pleas for mercy were drowned out by the water, and he choked, unable to speak.
He wanted to breathe, but the soaked towel clung tightly to his face, blocking oxygen.
In less than thirty seconds, as the oxygen in his blood rapidly depleted, the agonizing feeling of near-drowning began. Veins bulged on his neck, and his legs thrashed like a strangled rabbit.
"Take a deep breath; dizziness is normal."
At this moment, the interrogation truly began, and David reminded him kindly.
The lack of oxygen made Fran breathe uncontrollably and swallow large amounts of water, which filled his stomach, lungs, and bronchial tubes, intensifying the suffocating pain. He cried out in despair, unable to utter a complete word before being submerged again.
Horrifying screams echoed from the abandoned factory.
"From the Spanish Inquisition to modern intelligence agencies, eighty percent of those subjected to waterboarding have yielded.
I hope you're not part of the remaining twenty percent, Jax Fran."
His tone held a hint of expectation.
"Because the rest are victims accidentally tortured to death by their interrogators."
"Mmm... mmm..."
Intense pain and fear swept through Fran's body and mind, destroying his already not-so-strong will. Thirty seconds into the suffocating agony, he began trying every possible way to convey his willingness to confess.
But he couldn't speak with his mouth full, and his hands and feet were bound. Even though he wanted to confess, he was still being tortured to make him confess.
He endured two excruciatingly long minutes in darkness and suffocation.
Fran's consciousness gradually blurred, and his limbs began to twitch unnaturally.
"That's about enough; if this continues, it won't look good."
David put down the water bucket.
Those subjected to waterboarding for an extended period would eventually lose bladder and bowel control.
"Gack..."
The towel was removed from his face, and Fran, tears and snot streaming down, saw the light again. Like a fish out of water, he greedily gasped for air. After more than ten seconds, his pupils focused. He looked as if he had just returned from the gates of hell. His face was deathly pale, his body trembled with fear, and he looked at David as if wanting to say something.
"Oh, right!"
Seeing his expression, David raised an eyebrow, a smile on his face, as if he had just remembered something.
"I forgot to tell you beforehand how to notify me if you wanted to confess."
Fran couldn't see any trace of sudden realization on David's face. He stared at David like he was looking at a devil, his eyes wide with terror, his teeth chattering.
"De... Devil!"
"You've wasted enough of my time; it's time to tell me what I want to know!"
David stood up the chair, his smile vanishing as he said slowly.
"Or do you want to go for a second round?"
"I... I'll talk!..."
As if shocked by an electric current, Fran hastily begged for mercy. If not for the restraints of the chair, he would surely have fallen to his knees and kowtowed, willing to give anything just to avoid the previous suffering.
Snap!
He pressed the spacebar, canceling the scheduled email deletion, and David looked up at the shaken Fran before closing his laptop.
"Thanks for your cooperation."
"You... you're not an ordinary person either." Fran's voice trembled as he hugged himself, recoiling.
"What did you say?"
David acted as if he hadn't heard clearly.
"Your hand just now was like a vice, your strength was abnormally high as you gripped my face. No matter how much I struggled, I couldn't move an inch."
Recalling the excruciating pain that felt like his cheekbones were about to shatter, Fran finally understood. He looked at David as if he were a terrifying monster, his eyes wide.
Now he understood why Clark had treated him as a formidable enemy. Clark had promised him something, but then disappeared, leaving only one explanation.
"You're a stronger monster than your brother!"
"I don't like the word 'monster'."
David walked in front of him, towering over him, casting a shadow.
"I just have a few tricks up my sleeve for dealing with Clark."
"You... what do you want to do?"
Sitting in the chair, Fran's heart was clutched by fear. An intense unease washed over him, and he deeply regretted ever provoking this person.
"Let me go, please!"
"Sorry, the best way to keep a secret is for the secret-keeper to be... dead!"
David flicked his finger, and the fifty-cent coin shot out like a bullet, easily piercing Fran's head. It embedded itself in the brick wall behind him, stained with blood.
Fran's eyes widened in death, his body slumping backward with the chair, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Even though you lost, I'm still giving you this fifty cents."
...
"You killed him, David?"
After school that afternoon, in the warehouse attic.
Clark, who had woken up at noon and kicked the Kryptonite into the sewer, had searched the town and its outskirts twice – before and after school – but couldn't find Fran. He stormed up the stairs.
David calmly gazed at the darkening night outside. "Yes."
"He was a detective!" Clark was taken aback that his brother admitted it so readily.
"I handled it cleanly."
He didn't have a "no-kill" principle. He hadn't killed those ability users before because he wanted to maximize his emotional points. Fran, however, was just an ordinary person and useless to keep alive.
The body was buried deep beneath the concrete floor of an abandoned factory, where no one would ever find it.
"I mean, he might not have committed any serious crimes."
Clark said gravely.
That detective, so skilled at intimidation, was unlikely to be a good cop.
But perhaps he hadn't seriously broken the law, otherwise, working at the police station, he would have been discovered and imprisoned long ago.
"Your naivety is laughable, my brother."
David had anticipated his thoughts and shook his head.
He turned the laptop on the attic table towards Clark and pressed play.
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