RAND

Has the world gone mad? As opposed to mad, is it changing for the better? Is there some powerful force in place, some mystical being or higher entity bigger than the human understanding? It would seem so because the news has been riddled with footage of the Toulour family's remains. A family that has evaded destruction since the dawn of time.

Let's not forget what happened to Enzo Maranzo and his entourage. Blasted into oblivion. Caught in an explosion that is now rumored to be the work of Idris Verdonni. After all, he never fell prey to the assassination. And so to the public, he's viewed as the mastermind, the perpetrator. Some even call him a genius. Fake an alliance with the enemy, then when they have drowned themselves in faulty trust, you trap them in a building and blow them up. A real master of a plan.

Two of the biggest mafia families have taken hits in the span of a mere week. What could this be if not the beginning of the end.

And now the question remains. Who's next?

One thing is for certain: there were supposed to be three deceased families, not two. The third walks around still free and alive, still operating in the shadows with the belief that their time is not yet up. If they were able to survive the assassination attempt—though by a landslide—then it's clear their destiny is set.

Rand Vero is troubled by this turn of event. The Verdonni family should be accompanying Enzo Maranzo six feet under in his grave. This was the true plan, the headline that should have made it onto the news. Idris Verdonni should be dead. The Verdonni family should be in shambles.

Now his plan has gone to waste. After everything that transpired with the Toulour family, he's been stuck with the short end of the stick. Luckily enough, he wasn't around when the arrest of their key members took place. But now he's as much of a fugitive as the informant who ran away from the Toulours.

It won't be long now until the Verdonni family sniffs him out. He doesn't have long. Still he doesn't fret. He's lived a long enough life, one stained with blood and gore and violence. He doesn't regret any of it. It seems silly to do so now that the future holds no substance.

What Rand will regret is the trivial manner in which he held human life. This may have only come to be after the loss of his own family, but still he marvels in the what ifs of how he could have approached enemies of the past. It winded him down, so to speak—his wife's untimely death. The love of his life lost to an indomitable disease. Then went his children, caught up in a family feud Rand could have prevented if he tried hard enough.

And now it's just him, waiting for a brutal end which he knows will come soon. You don't live the life he did and expect a peaceful death. Except Bruno Verdonni seems to disprove that theory. He had an end unbefitting to him, unbefitting for such a man consumed with violence. But Rand will not take the easy way out. He will face whatever nature has in store for him.

And what nature has in store comes in an assassin tasked with revenge.

The shack doesn't have much to it, but it does its job fairly well. It houses Rand and keeps him away from the public eye. It's secluded; a smart idea on Rand's part. But not so smart with what is about to transpire.

It's night time, but the moon provides almost as much light as the sun itself. Rand takes his usual route through the woods on his way back home. The trees do the most they can to shield the shack from unwanted visitors, something Rand is thankful for.

And finally he arrives. He opens the door and is immediately welcomed by an expected darkness, along with a figure on the other end of the room. The figure is seated on a wooden chair, one of the two pieces of furniture the shack owns, with legs crossed and head rested back against the seat. Rand can't tell much of the visitor's features, but what he does know is he's in danger.

Before the ex-consigliere can even react, the visitor pulls out a gun and fires at him.

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A tranquilizer dart. That's what Rand was hit with. Now his mind twists and turns and lurches all around him. He can't gather his thoughts, can't seem to decide if he's alive or somewhere between life and death.

The first thing he notices when he finally comes to his senses is the same figure. Except this time, she's in full display and away from the darkness. She's seated in the same chair, but the window behind her has been opened. Now it seems as though she's bathing in the moonlight, as though the moon were a friend of hers.

Rand tries to move, but realizes he can't—not because of the remnants of the tranquilizer, but because he physically can't. His hands have been tied firmly to the ceiling and his legs have been taped together. So he's been confined to that spot, at the complete mercy of the culprit who put him there.

Immediately, Rand is full of questions. This can't possibly be the work of the Verdonni family. If it were, he'd be back at the estate in the same torture cellar they keep the rest of their targets. He'd be in pain by now, and Idris Verdonni would definitely be there to witness his downfall.

No, the visitor in front of him is calm. Perhaps a bit too calm. She sits in the chair illuminated by the moon as if calculating. Her face has no trace of emotion. She hadn't even reacted when he gained consciousness.

But one look at the visitor's eyes puts all of Rand's doubts to rest. An unusual mix. Brown on the right and grey on the left. He knows now who the person is in front of him. Yes, from the Rocci family. Years ago it was. Years ago, when he subjected that same family to cruelty.

Rand sighs. His end has come much sooner than later.

"It's too bad Bruno isn't here." The Girl starts. "I was planning on carving his skull out, you see. From here," She taps the center of her forehead. "I was going to split his head open and clean out the flesh until I hit the bone. I really wanted his skull on my desk."

Rand can't help but shiver. He can now safely say Bruno's death worked in his favor.

"But he died in a car crash." She sighs and leans her head against the chair, then brings her gaze up to the ceiling. "What a very undeserving death . . ."

Rand could offer some words, but he deems it unnecessary. What could he possibly say to a woman whose entire life was left in the dust by his very own doing? It would seem insulting, perhaps even condescending, that he would speak in a time such as this. Especially since he's part of the reason behind it all.

There's a table next to The Girl which Rand seems to have completely disregarded in the midst of trying to make sense of the situation. What grabs his attention most are the numerous dart pins that lay on top.

Rand would laugh if he weren't currently amidst a trial of death. "What goes around comes around" is how the saying goes, but this is karma to the highest degree.

"Did it feel good when you shot those darts? When they landed precisely the way you wanted them to?"

Memories of that day flood Rand's mind. When he'd ridiculed the old man and had made a mockery of his life by substituting his body for a target board. It just floats in his head. He doesn't particularly regret it, because he finds it somewhat selfish and almost as an insult to the girl in front of him. Still, he thinks the person he is now would never have taken that route.

And with that same thought, Rand stays still and simply accepts his fate. But he knows the pain he's about to go through will be immense. It will make him wish he were already dead, just like the old man from the past. So he tries to brace himself as much as he can.

The Girl reaches behind the chair for the thing that makes Rand's resolve falter. A blow torch. She places a dart in her mouth so the sharp end points towards Rand, then clicks the torch to life and begins warming up the pin. Her eyes don't stray from Rand through it all. She watches his weary eye grow even more sunken and takes notice of his heaving chest.

Before the show officially starts, The Girl brings out her phone and plays a laughing track. They pour forth, happy to be part of whatever is currently transpiring. Rand's own confusion weighs him down. Laughter is the last thing he expected in this scene of torture. But he has no more time to think it through, because the show soon begins.

The first dart opens up a new world of torture Rand has never known. The searing end of the pin's edge melts right through his skin and boils the blood within. Rand screams. He wails. He stands there helplessly as the pain devours his existence.

The Girl basks in his misery. He should feel what her grandfather felt ten times worse. He should give himself up to the pain and allow it break him down in both body and spirit. She heats up the next dart until it glows in the dim darkness. A gleam so bright it practically hisses.

This one lands right in the middle of Rand's chest, commanding more screams from him. The pain from the last dart hasn't yet dissipated, and this one just adds to the burning torture left behind. It drills itself through easily and increases the pressure in his chest, to the point where his mouth has to hang open or he won't receive much oxygen.

By the time the fourth dart hits, Rand is already beaten down. But there are several more darts to go through. The fifth one pierces through his eyepatch and strikes the nerves that were once attached to his eye. Each target point hit by the darts begin to char as the flesh cooks. It sizzles and fries and even emits smoke. What a crafty way to burn alive.

The Girl throws another dart pin which lands between Rand's ribcage. His clothes have been stained red by the streaks of boiling blood, a sight that pleases her greatly. She sinks back into the waves of laughter and smiles at the view in front of her. A bloodied, haggard Rand hanging on by a mere string. He wants his death this very instant. He wants to die before the next dart hits. He wants it all to come to an end.

The Girl throws one more pin, then looks down at an empty tray. "Look at that. I'm out of dart pins."

But this is no real issue. The replacements The Girl has in store are by no means surprising given the circumstances, but are far more threatening to Rand's state of mind.

The Girl dumps a bag full of daggers onto the tray. She grabs one, leans back against the chair as if it were just another day in the week, then proceeds to warm up the edge just as she'd done the dart pins. These weapons are far thicker in size and much sharper in robustness. Rand's eye expands when he sees the knives.

The Girl explicitly targets non-lethal areas in Rand's body, a way to prolong his life and have him feel every bit of pain. The first heated dagger lodges itself deep in his left thigh. It slips its way through his skin effortlessly, melting it. Dissolving it. Another wisp of smoke filters into the air. The smell of burning flesh infiltrates Rand's nose, as well as the Girl's. It must be a scent worth savoring, because she smiles.

The laughters' volume seems to increase during this round of torture, serving as an instrument of ridicule. Just as Rand and the rest of the Verdonnis had mocked The Girl's family in the past.

Rand screams when the next knife hits. The laughter drowns him out and clogs his mind with their false sense of joviality. The only one currently enjoying themselves is The Girl.

The target spots become more and more lethal as the daggers grow few in number. The Girl throws one straight for his abdomen where it does more damage than the rest so far. Rand coughs up blood as the wound from the dagger damages him. He can barely even breathe, and his mind has begun losing consciousness. But each time he thinks he's going to be put out of his misery, the scorching blade is there to remind him otherwise.

"When you get down there, let Bruno know I'll join him some day. Tell him to wait for me."

Rand closes his eye when The Girl says this. His time has finally come to an end. He doesn't mope, doesn't mourn either. He simply accepts his fate. This is a life he cultivated with his own two hands. And so he will take full responsibility.

Perhaps it isn't such a terrible way to go out. Marred by an entity of revenge rather than the family who he still thinks betrayed him. Rand Vero is fine with his destiny.

The Girl hurls the last heated blade at Rand's left eye. It tears through his eyepatch and plants itself deep in his head. His body goes limp instantly, and now the show has come to an end.

Two down, three more to go.

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