Disclaimer: I don't own Baccano.
Nev twisted this way and that. It was dark. And he…
He couldn't see.
"Welcome to my world," a man said in his ear. It was sudden enough to startle a shout from his lips. "I'm before you today because you targeted an important woman to me. If you're ready to kill, then I assume you're ready to die as well. I'll give you a moment to prepare yourself."
That whisper was all the warning Nev received, before something tepid pooled in the pit of his stomach. It was a welcome change from the never-ending cold he'd felt only moments before. One that distracted him from his lack of sight. He felt himself floating, the ground long gone beneath him. Nothing anchored him here. Only his thoughts and that voice that bordered on unreal. The pervading warmth was soft at first, bleeding into his veins. A steady trickle of comfort.
Then, all at once, it became unbearable. The forgiving stream turned into an all-out gush of heat. It erupted from his core. He heard, then felt the distinct sizzle of flesh. Every heartbeat throbbed from head to toe. But Nev wasn't ignorant enough to not realize its source.
He'd been broken down and stitched back together again enough times to know how certain hitmen within the mafia operated. Oftentimes, they doubled as torturers that liked to use cement to harden their enemies. Others preferred kicking the back of their victims' heads against sidewalks to permanently break their teeth. There were a fair few, however, that preferred to play with fire. And this man was clearly one of them. He hadn't pissed off any mafia bosses in a long while though, so what in the world was this asshole doing after him? Or maybe he was wrong, and it wasn't someone affiliated with the underworld. Was he just a sorry victim then?
Like hell he was.
Despite his fortitude, Nev still shuddered at the feeling of heated iron plates being pressed into his stomach. It was a flood of intense pain that made his ribs cave in submission. The heat seemed almost like a sentient being that dug around his insides, threaded in his limbs, and pierced its way between the soft, pink tissue of his organs. It flanked every layer of muscle, trying to tear him apart at the seams.
And then he was screaming.
Nev didn't know when the bindings around his eyes vanished, but there was no time to worry about such banal concerns. Above him, stood a man with red hair and even redder eyes. As far as looks went, the man had a decidedly handsome face. His eyes and lips were framed by laugh lines that suggested a life filled with happiness—even now. There was no demented smile on his lips or wicked glare pointed down at him. Only concentration.
The man's sanity scared him more than he'd ever admit.
Nev tried to move away from the explosive pain the man caused, but something hard was behind him, and he unintentionally slammed the back of his head into it in a move so harsh that he swore the base of his skull cracked from the impact. He smelt the rusty scent of iron. Felt it around his shoulders, too. Again, he tried to get away. His movements were jerky and graceless, fueled by the same kind of life-threatening desperation he'd felt so many times before. Only this time, there was no escape. His wrists and ankles were bound by iron fetters that clanked with each involuntary rise of his chest.
Nev wailed when the man lifted the steel plate with tongs, only to place it higher on his body. His shout was high enough to split his own ears with the sound. Between the hazy blurs of hurt, he realized that he was laying atop a stone slab. It reminded him of the heinous tributes he used to read about in books, done by those backwards tribes that worshiped violent gods. Was this man one of them?
No. He couldn't be.
"W—What do you want?" Nev somehow managed to screech out. His body burned. So much that he couldn't adequately comprehend the pain. A part of it was even numbing at this point, which couldn't be good.
Nev's frantic eyes met his cold ones. The man stopped for a moment to stare deep into them. Listless, as if he was the uninvited spectator in all of this. Then the moment passed, and before he knew it, the man was smiling at him.
The sight of it was enough to send Nev into hysterics.
"Has the pain given you amnesia?" the man said, amused. His voice was silky. Too serene for what he was doing to him. "I get that you're after Father-in-law's immortality, but you chose the wrong hostage. You even injured her in your idiotic attempt—and that, I can't forgive. Really, you should just be thankful that you didn't get his secret. Because I've already decided that even if you were to become immortal, I'd just torture you until your body forgot how to repair itself."
Nev opened his mouth to speak, but the words bent in his throat from sheer surprise. So, this was about that? But why would he care a—
Before Nev could even think about mastering himself enough to form a proper sentence, the man was already dropping the flaming-hot plate back over his blistered chest.
His eyes widened.
"W—Wait!" Nev suddenly yelled in a voice that didn't belong to him. It was creaky. Half-choked from the terror that clogged his throat. "Wai—no. Stop! Please! I'll give you anything you want."
The man didn't seem to hear.
"My name is Vino," he whispered. Nev's eyes widened in a brief instant of understanding, before fear consumed him completely. "This world is mine. You can't offer me anything, but the satisfaction of this moment."
Vino placed the plate over his chest, then with his free hands, grabbed iron forceps that shone white-red from heat.
In the distance, birds flapped their wings to get away from the sound of screaming.