Daniel stepped toward the cell with calm, measured strides, his shoulders taut and hands clasped confidently behind his back. He paused briefly at the door, then slowly pushed it aside, letting the screech of iron seep into the surrounding air.
He entered with steady steps, his eyes scanning the room, falling on a scene that no longer startled him after the fight: André sprawled on the floor, his head wrapped in white bandages stained with dried blood. Beside him, Armenda and Logi sat silently, watching him like guards.
Everyone turned briefly toward the door, where Daniel stood. He regarded them with calm eyes, radiating no hostility, yet a quiet smile lingered on his lips, hiding more than it revealed.
André raised his head with effort, dragging his weary body to a seated position. His cold hazel eyes seemed on the verge of fading under the weight of exhaustion etched across his features.
"What do you want now?"
Daniel approached them step by step, his hands still in the pockets of his black trousers, his expression brimming with confidence. In the dimness, the white of his crisp shirt gleamed, adorned with a small blue stone at the collar, while his long black coat flowed down, giving him a presence as imposing as that of nobility.
He stopped in front of André, fixing him with a steady gaze.
"I want you."
Expressions of astonishment rippled across the room, faces reflecting a disbelief they could not explain.
"What do you mean? I don't understand," André said, his voice tinged with suspicion.
Daniel ignored the question and spoke with calm mystery:
"Come with me, and you'll find out."
André remained silent for a moment, his hazel eyes scrutinizing Daniel's features, as if trying to pierce the calmness to uncover what lay beneath.
"Where are we going?"
Daniel slowly turned his head, casually brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Stop asking questions and follow me."
André paused, feeling the heaviness of his body from fatigue. He stepped out of the cell, his footsteps uneven on the stone floor, while the echo of Daniel's shoes grated slightly on his sensitive ears.
As they advanced down the corridor, the scent of gunpowder rose, infiltrating his breath. His eyes darted rapidly, searching for any clue to its source, until they reached a room.
The moment his feet crossed the threshold, his gaze was immediately drawn to the scene.
A meticulous array of weapons lined wooden shelves, varying in size and shape, yet all sharing a deadly threat. The room was dimly lit, yet he could make out another door in its corner.
His attention snapped back when Daniel stood before him, gesturing calmly toward the weapons:
"Pick one."
André stared warily at Daniel, trying to decode his enigmatic behavior. Daniel's eyes carried something strange, mingled with a mysterious smile, making every attempt to understand him seem futile. Thoughts crowded André's mind:
What is this man thinking? I feel he means no good.
He closed his eyes, tilting his face away stubbornly.
"I don't want to."
Daniel let out a quiet laugh tinged with mockery, then moved toward the shelves. He reached out and selected a weapon with a gleaming silver handle. Spinning lightly, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
Bang.
The bullet shot out.
The vase behind André shattered, shards scattering into the air. He gasped, feeling along his body to make sure he hadn't been hit, and when he saw the fragments littering the floor, relief washed over him briefly.
Daniel advanced steadily, flipping the gun between his fingers in a showy display, as if playing with death were a mere amusement. His eyes gleamed with a cold menace.
"You don't want to?"
He paused, then added:
"Hmm, it doesn't depend on whether you want to or not. From the moment you set foot here, there's no choice. You've been sentenced to a slow execution."
Those words made André sweat, and Daniel left no room to ease the tension; he stepped closer, pressing the gun to his forehead, tilting his head narcissistically.
"But you know? You can escape this sentence. You can become the one in control, dominating everything, but only if you become the predator, not the prey."
André swallowed hard, his gaze trembling. Death was only a trigger pull away. He lifted his eyes to Daniel, trying to gather himself, and said:
"What do I have to do? I don't understand."
Daniel sighed slowly, removing the gun from André's head, then placed it in his hand.
"Put the gun to my head, just like I did with you, to understand."
His hands trembled, eyes pale with fear, heart pounding violently. Daniel remained steady, guiding his hand to place it directly on his forehead.
"Now pull the trigger and kill me. Go on."
André tried to withdraw his hand, but Daniel's grip was firm, preventing any movement. He stammered:
"I… I can't kill you!"
Daniel shouted, his voice filling the room.
You must erase the words "I can't" from your life! If you want to live, do it now. There's no room for hesitation here, because if you falter, you'll die without even realizing it!
André's heartbeat raced visibly. His trembling fingers touched the weapon; its weight grew heavier with every second, as if each moment pressed down on his shoulders. Thoughts crowded his mind.
What should I do? How do I get out of this hell?
A long hesitation swept over him, then gradually he convinced himself he had to act, to pull the trigger. His tense fingers touched the weapon.
He let out a scream of pain and squeezed the trigger but the gun was empty.
André collapsed to the ground, his entire body shaking, yet relief did not come. Deep down, he knew this would not be the last time he would hold a weapon this way, and the long path ahead remained unknown.
Daniel straightened and took the gun, observing André with his cold gaze. Despite the smile etched on his lips a smile that refused to leave his face under any circumstances he spoke softly and eerily:
"See? That was easy."
Then he turned and walked deeper into the room, toward the corner where the door stood. He raised the gun and waved it:
"Come on, we're not done yet. Follow me."
André lifted his gaze toward him, trying to steady himself, but his legs barely supported him. His breathing was rapid and uneven, his body tense like a taut wire, as if the very ground were pulling him back.
Daniel turned and sighed softly:
"Take a deep breath."
André inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. His tension eased gradually, wiping sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. He regained his composure, face taut:
"What's your goal, man?"
Daniel was about to open the room, but André's question made him pause, lowering his hand to the rusty doorknob without even turning, his face now calm in a way that was unsettling.
"My goal, huh? I'm not here to explain my goal. I'm here to make you discover yours."
He opened the door slowly, looking at André, who stood stiffly in place:
"Don't just stand there like a statue. Move."
André stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning the new room attentively. He followed Daniel into a room designed for marksmanship: targets hung on the walls, some worn and pockmarked from countless bullets and practice.
Six targets were firmly affixed to a wooden board. Daniel raised the gun, moving it in a straight line toward them.
A rapid series of shots rang out, the bullets landing squarely in the center of the targets with clear precision and skill. Daniel glanced back at André and casually extended the gun toward him:
"Did you see that?
Six targets in one go. That was so easy. Now I want you to hit just one target. Is that difficult? I want only one target."
André hesitated, his eyes fixed on the weapon extended toward him. Deep down, he knew there was no choice but to take it now. Slowly, he reached out, grasped the handle, and stared at it for a few suspended seconds, as if time itself had paused around him.
His thoughts did not linger long before Daniel spoke in his smooth, calm voice, hands in his pockets, eyes shining with a quiet glimmer of hope:
"That hanging target, it's merely an obstacle. So get rid of it.
There's a rule: if you want to survive in this life, you must first remove the obstacles in your way. Now choose, will you keep moving forward, or let these obstacles stop you?"
His words were sharp and clear, yet André felt a strange sensation creeping into his chest, as if each word had planted itself in his mind.
If I want to survive, I must overcome my obstacles.
I must surpass everything to reach the top.
For a moment, his gaze shifted from tension to a strange mixture of determination and anxiety. Daniel watched him, attempting to understand what he was experiencing, but he found himself unable to interpret that look, it was different, carrying a hint of madness. A twisted smile appeared on André's face, as if his mind had briefly wandered into its own world, detached from reality.
He began moving the gun slowly, his hands trembling despite his attempt to steady his grip. He raised it to the target, tightening his hold as sweat streamed down his forehead, soaking his hands, yet he dared not look away.
With a small surge of resolve, André pulled the trigger. The bullet fired, echoing through the room, piercing the target with precision.
His shot was astonishing to Daniel; he had never seen anyone hit a target on the first attempt. He removed his hands from his pockets and clapped lightly, a satisfied smile spreading across his face:
"Well done, boy."
Yet the praise changed nothing in André. He continued to regard Daniel with a cold, indifferent gaze. He extended his hand to return the gun, gripping it firmly before lifting it:
"Yeah, I did it, but let me tell you, I didn't do it because you asked me I did it because I wanted to.
Because I know what I must do now. I will leave this place, and to do that, I must surpass all of you."
Daniel took the gun from him. This time, a different expression appeared on his face; his gaze was victorious, as if he wanted André to acknowledge these very words. He smiled and placed the gun in his belt.
"Hmm, excellent. Let's see your prowess. Let's see if you can surpass my skill as well, boy. I'm looking forward to it."
"I'll surpass you too. Wait and see," André said, his gaze shifting from indifference to a clear challenge.
Daniel was unfazed, in fact, he felt he had found someone quite entertaining. He raised his hand and ruffled André's hair, tangling the dark strands. André lowered his head in annoyance before pushing the hand away, muttering.
Daniel chuckled lightly, then moved toward the door, opening it with a polite gesture:
"Come on, your lesson for today is over. I'll return you to the others."
André ran his fingers through his hair, staring at Daniel with a look of boredom. He exhaled through his nose, trying to maintain composure, then stepped hesitantly toward the exit, following Daniel out of the room.
They retraced their steps until they reached the private cell. Daniel inserted the key into the lock but paused before turning it, then faced André. Placing his hands on his shoulders, he looked at him with a serious tone, laced with that ever-present mysterious smile.
"Don't tell anyone about your goal. Want my advice? Impress them. Show them who you are."
André fixed his eyes on him for a moment, then moved his hands aside coldly.
"That's exactly what I'll do. Now, let me in."
Daniel shrugged and exhaled lightly, then completed opening the door. André entered the room with heavy steps, and once inside, the door closed behind him. Before moving further, he remembered André's determined gaze.
"This boy, he will be like you, Lord Ricardo."
Meanwhile, André stood in the middle of the cell, pressing his fingers to his nose to block the foul stench. But it was futile, the corpse's stench still filled the air, now even more intense after being moved.
He had always felt disgusted by this life, but now it seemed the feeling had reached its peak.
Armenda and Logi were still in the cell. Noticing André's return at this late hour, they exchanged surprised glances, then approached him cautiously.
Armenda spoke softly:
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine, better than fine," André replied, heading to his corner without showing any emotion, though his mind was in chaos.
Armenda and Logi exchanged glances again but remained silent, not wanting to burden him further.
The next morning, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed toward the cell. Enzo pushed the door open and entered, his eyes sweeping the room with disdain, then clapped his hands sharply, startling everyone.
Come on, the Don wants to see you. Hurry up, I won't risk making him wait.
The group exchanged nervous glances, as if waiting for someone to dare move first. But Enzo's patience ran out; he kicked the door violently, making the metal shudder, and shouted angrily:
"Didn't I tell you to move faster?!"
André's gaze pierced Enzo's back, his eyes radiating a lethal aura. He stepped forward first, followed by Armenda and Logi, walking in silence toward the Don's office.
Enzo strutted ahead, his clothes disheveled like chaos incarnate. His shoulders bounced with each arrogant step, hands waving unsteadily.
André watched him steadily, thinking.
Oh, this man is more irritating than the strange Daniel.
No, he's absolute filth.
Upon reaching Don Dante's office, the heavy scent of cigarette smoke engulfed them, dense enough to feel like a dark cloud permeating every corner of the room.
André waved his hand irritably in front of his face to block the smoke, his eyes showing clear disdain.
That addict, can't leave the room without filling it with smoke.
Don Dante sat in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling around his head like a misty vortex consuming everything in the room. His eyes scanned those present mercilessly.
He gestured with the hand holding the cigarette toward the wooden table, where some weapons were neatly placed.
"You'll be going on a mission with Enzo. Take these weapons."
Yet his gaze was fixed on André, scrutinizing him with complete mockery.
"Let's see if you return alive from your first mission."
André smiled coldly, stepping forward to take a weapon. He raised his head and met Dante's eyes with a clear challenging stare.
"Don't worry. I'll return alive, because I still have to kill you."
His words left everyone staring in shock, even the guard at the door paused briefly, glancing at them in surprise.
Armenda and Logi tried to move quickly toward him before any more words could escalate the situation, but Enzo acted first. He lunged, grabbed André by the hair, and yanked violently. Veins stood out on his face, and his voice was sharp to André's sensitive ears:
How dare you threaten my Don!
Dante felt a spark of anger and humiliation. He stood and slammed the table hard, forcing Enzo to release André's hair and step back.
Though Dante felt insulted, he did not react further; the mission commanded his full attention. Yet his eyes remained fixed sharply on André.
"Go now, you fools."
"At your command," Enzo said, pushing.
The group left the headquarters, boarding an old car, heading toward their mission. André lowered his gaze to the weapon in his hands, running his fingers over its grip slowly, thinking deeply:
I'll prove to Daniel that I will surpass you all, and today is my first day to do it.
The car stopped at the base of the mountain. Enzo exited first, loud with arrogance.
"Come on! Get down, you fools!"
Once they disembarked, they set off on foot, trudging through the rugged slopes until they reached a high vantage point overlooking a small valley. There, on the valley's edge, stood an isolated wooden cabin, faint smoke rising from its chimney.
Enzo raised his finger, his face a mix of authority and slyness.
"Do you see that bald man over there, and the men with him?"
Then he let out a short laugh.
"They're our target."
André felt tightness in his chest as he watched the men at the cabin, laughing and drinking as if the world belonged to them.
"Take your positions quickly!" Enzo ordered decisively.
Armenda reached out gently, grasping André's wrist lightly.
"Come on, we don't want to anger him right now."
André exchanged a glance with her, then released his hand lightly without comment. They moved cautiously, positioning themselves around the cabin, each finding cover among rocks and trees, surrounding the place like ghosts awaiting the signal to strike.
Everyone stood ready, but André kept watching Armenda and Logi, noting their calm while readying their weapons. It was clear they were experienced in combat; every move calculated. Then he looked at his own weapon.
I cannot just stand here watching. I must prepare myself too.
He raised his head with slight confidence, gripping the weapon firmly, and took a deep breath, ready to face what was coming.
Suddenly, Enzo raised his rifle without hesitation, a wicked grin on his face.
"Now, let's see who dares to survive!"
Bang!
He pulled the trigger, and the bullet shot toward the cabin, piercing the window and hitting one of them in the head.
Panic erupted among the men, who scrambled to take cover behind whatever barriers they could find, preparing their weapons to return fire.
"It's the enemy!" shouted one, pointing toward the top of the valley.
The two sides opened fire, bullets raining from every direction like a fiery storm.