INFINITE MONEY - I Will Buy Everything

In a clandestine location, far removed from Halbourough City, within the vast, partially constructed shopping complex— its framework still in the midst of development— an ominous scene was unfolding.

On the 15th floor of the complex's west wing, at the very heart of this unfinished expanse, something deeply unsettling was taking place— something that would elicit fear in most and pity in a few.

Eleven men encircled a lone captive, who was bound tightly to a chair. They took turns pummeling him, each assailant hurling questions laced with venomous insults, only to be succeeded by the next, repeating the same brutal interrogation. Yet, despite the relentless barrage, the man in the chair remained unbroken, his resolve untouched by the savagery inflicted upon him.

To the disbelief of his tormentors, the man being brutalized maintained an eerie calm. He absorbed the relentless blows without yielding even the slightest of secrets they so desperately sought. In fact, he hadn't uttered a single word, leading his captors to speculate whether their victim was, in fact, mute.

BANG

A fist collided with his face, and before he could regain his balance, another blow landed, causing him to lurch backward slightly.

BANG

The latest assailant, now breathing heavily, sneered and demanded, "So, are you going to talk now, or are you still playing your little mute game?"

Pedro, the man strapped to the chair, was covered in a patchwork of bruises, his clothes soaked in blood— every drop his own. Despite the numerous beatings, electric shocks, and other torturous methods employed, he had yet to divulge a single piece of information about his boss. What others might perceive as loyalty, Pedro regarded as a game— a sport, even.

He looked up at his interrogator and smiled, a gesture devoid of hatred or fear.

The man who had just struck Pedro began to feel a gnawing unease. Never in his life had he encountered someone capable of enduring such punishment without breaking. He wondered if Pedro's silence was a result of brain damage from the incessant beatings.

Frustrated by their failure, the man turned to his companions, all of whom wore the same tattered, chaotic attire, their appearance screaming delinquency.

"So, what do you all think? Anyone up for giving this son of a bitch another round?" he asked, only to be met with a chorus of shaking heads.

"Are you serious?" one of them replied. "We've been at this for nearly a week, and we haven't gotten a single word out of him."

"Forget about him— it's us who are suffering from beating him so much. My arms and legs feel like they're about to give out, and the crazy bastard still has the nerve to smile!"

Another voice interjected from the side. "This guy isn't right in the head. There's no point in trying to get anything out of him. He's a complete lunatic. I say we just finish him off now."

"No, no, we can't do that," the latest assailant countered. "The boss specifically told us to make him talk. If we kill him, what are we supposed to tell the boss?"

The others, who had been slumped on the floor or leaning against the construction equipment, sighed and slowly pushed themselves to their feet. One of them spoke up, "Alright, let's give it one last shot. We all go at him together. If we get something out of him, great; if not..." He locked eyes with Pedro. "We kill this son of a bitch."

The others nodded in grim agreement, and the beating resumed. Hours passed, and once again, the scene played out as before: Pedro's tormentors lay sprawled on the floor, utterly exhausted from their fruitless efforts.

BANG

"So, are you going to talk or not?" the one who had suggested the group beating asked, panting heavily. Sweat dripped down his face as he glared at Pedro, his vision blurred, his stance unsteady from the physical exertion.

Pedro responded with a smile, causing the man's eyes to widen in disbelief. How could this be? How could a man endure such extreme pain and remain coherent? He knew Pedro wasn't insane, for the smile on his face carried a deliberate meaning.

Anger surged within the man as he stared at Pedro's unwavering smile. He pulled out a gun and pressed it against Pedro's temple. "Last chance, you fucker. Are you going to say something, or do I blow your brains out?"

As always, Pedro smiled back, unperturbed. The man's fury reached its peak, and he cocked the gun. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, something entirely unexpected occurred.

"Why kill someone who doesn't want to die?" Pedro spoke, his voice steady and calm. His words hung in the air, stunning everyone in the room. The man holding the gun was the most shocked of all, staring at Pedro's composed demeanor in disbelief.

"So, you finally decided to talk, huh?' the man said, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "The fear of my gun finally loosened your tongue."

His companions erupted in jubilant cheers.

"Woo-hoo! Gary, you actually got him to talk!"

"We should've threatened to kill him five days ago. Would've saved us a lot of time."

Gary, the man with the gun, smirked. "So, are you going to tell us what we want to know now, pal?"

Pedro slowly shook his head. "Why would I tell you anything valuable when you're already a dead man?"

Gary's confusion quickly morphed into rage. He jabbed the gun harder against Pedro's head. "Listen here, you bastard! We've been beating you for almost a week. We're exhausted, furious, and ready to do something truly bad to you."

"And yet, you still haven't made me talk." Pedro replied, his smile taking on a sadistic edge as a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

His laughter sparked a fresh wave of fury among his captors.

"We're going to fuck you up!"

"Don't you dare laugh, you fucking bastard!"

"Gary, just shoot the damn guy!"

Gary, already seething, decided that this was the end. He pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the air towards Pedro's head, but he didn't flinch. He maintained that same fearless smile, even as the bullet hurtled towards him— its impact seemingly inevitable.

BANG!

Then, unexpectedly, another bang resonated through the room. The bullet destined for Pedro's skull veered off course at the last moment, striking to the right instead.

Everyone, save for Pedro, was stunned. Gary rushed to examine his gun, realizing that his bullet had been intercepted by another— a precise shot from a sniper.

His eyes widened in terror as he turned to his companions and shouted, "RUN! IT'S A SNI—"

Before he could finish, nine rapid shots rang out.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!
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In an instant, nine of Gary's companions dropped to the floor, lifeless. Gary and his last remaining ally stood frozen, their minds racing with the instinct to flee. But just as they prepared to make a break for it, Gary heard another shot and watched in horror as his last companion crumpled to the ground, his face frozen in terror.

"Why feel fear when you already are a dead man?" Pedro's voice echoed in the silence, sending a chill down Gary's spine.