Marc stared intensely at Isaac, struggling to contain the boiling frustration and anger that threatened to overflow at any moment. After several hours of relentless beating, he realized that he would achieve nothing through conventional methods. The man facing him was resistant to physical pain, his glowing, unwavering eyes silently mocking him with each blow delivered.
The inspector clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. Sweat beaded on his temples, his short breath betraying his growing despair. He suddenly stood up, gave a sharp signal to his masked assistant, and abruptly left the room, leaving Isaac alone in the damp darkness.
A few minutes later, Marc reappeared, accompanied by two technicians pushing a heavy metal cart. Isaac slowly raised his head, his exhausted gaze still vibrating with cold anger. His orange pupils burned like two embers, dimly illuminating his face, deformed by the blows.
