A profane smell lingered the air, as the guards proceeded down the dilapidated hall. The cages of the prisoners rattled as though coming to life as they passed. Chains attached to the men, women and children binding them all together.

The slaves looked on at them in silence; their eyes gave a foreshadowing of the bleakness of their circumstances. Breaking the silence was a loud persistent scream that could be heard stretching through the hall as if it was trying to shatter the walls as the guards continued their duties in silence.

The guards looked at them with indifference, the slaves all carried tags on them, and it denoted which were to be sold, which were pending transactions and those who would have to die.

These slaves were in high demand for a variety of different reasons. However, most of them were special and possessed a unique gift. These gifts created the problems that mankind faced today. They became natural resources for countries to exploit and this, in turn; lead many of them to be turned into slaves. Many of the populace did not even know of their existence and those that did only considered them to be freaks.

At the center of the noise, a man sat bonded and tied with rope to a metal chair smoke rose above him as the burning acid water came into contact with his face. He shrieked in pain as his face was disfigured. Seething with anger that burnt into his mind he stared at the man that caused him this pain.

Doyle, this bastard. I will kill you, kill you he thought in his head. A shooting pain came over him as he gritted his teeth knowing full well the position that he was in.

Doyle watched in silence as his actions made the smoking figure screamed in pain, and then when the smoke faded away and all that was left was the whimpering he asked in a soft-spoken voice "where is the girl?"

"I don't know Mr. Doyle, she just managed to escape, I had my men chasing---"

"Not good enough," he interrupted as he filled another bucket with acid.

"Wait one moment, please Sir, I can still be use, I can find her no one knows this city like me."

"Is that so?" Doyle said calmly looking at him,

"Yes, yes!" he shouted, "please, it is the truth."

"I will give you this chance to prove me wrong, that girl is of the utmost importance she has to be brought back in one piece." lightly touching his mustache with a grin, "If you fail to bring her back swiftly or make insufficient progress well then, I guess you know too well what would happen."

As he slowly walked away to leave he adjusted his tie, "Well then Mr. Damien, I bid you a farewell for now."

Two men nervously entered the room after Doyle left and untied him from the chair once the man had left.

Damien gritted his teeth angrily, "Got something to say?!"

One of the men mustered the courage to ask, "Are you okay boss, how could you just let that man-----?"

The punch took him by surprised and the man recoiled from the blow laying him limp on the ground.

Cracking his neck and then his knuckles, "Anything else to say?" as he looked the other man over.

The other man shaked his head sheepishly for no, as he tried not to look at him directly, so that he would not incur his wrath while slowly steading him up.

Damien pulled himself away and his thoughts were filled with rage so much so that they shut out the pain and he had almost forgotten the fact of how his face was no longer the same. All that burned within was to get back his revenge on that man and to survive, he would have the last laugh.

He squeezed his fist tightly as he barked out orders to the man still standing in the room.

"Tell the boys that to get the word out to all the gangs in the city about this girl," as he started to give the description, " we are paying a big reward. Money is not an issue come up with a figure and make it happen before the week is done."

"Yes Sir," he responded looking down.

"Then get moving then."

He left the room with the other man around his shoulder as he could hear the thundering sound of a chair colliding in the room he was once in.

Damien looked himself over in the mirror. His sight utterly disgusted him. He felt the pain again as his mind tried to comprehend his new look. His black favorite suit was now discolored; his long black hair had also been burnt. One quarter of his face had been disfigured making the scar over his eye look minor in comparison. He could barely see out of his left eye without straining. He was lucky to be alive but that did not change the anger he felt.

He returned to his office and opened the desk; he needed this to take everything off his mind. He took the pill to numb his pain. He coughed slightly before he ended up smiling. He fell on to the desk. That was good I feel much better he thought to himself, what I don't think about can't affect me.

Some time had passed before, a perfume fragrance lingered over him. He could tell it was that of a woman as he slowly opened his eyes and saw her there standing above him. Her hair was black while her skin looked pale like snow and deceivingly soft brown eyes.

"Had a nice nap?" she stroked his face gently "although you looked like you had a few problems with your makeover."

"Liz I am not in the mood for you," Damien said looking away not knowing if it was her or his imagination.

"Going to tell me what happened to you?" she asked with a face that made it hard to tell if she was genuinely concerned or not.