FF: The Beautiful and the Condemned (Completed) - Page 2

Eighteen years later...

Like a phoenix, Rudra was reborn from the ashes of that incident. He was taken to Tejawat's Haveli where he was given care and shelter. The old Rudra had disappeared and was replaced by a silent, emotionless Rudra. He became a blank slate, which the thakur used to his advantage. He isolated the boy, hardened his heart. Any command that was given was fulfilled completely and flawlessly by Rudra, who felt indebted to the thakur for saving his life. For the next eighteen years, Tejawat molded Rudra into a cold-hearted, merciless killer. He began working as an executioner in Tejawat's business. When there were people that the thakur wanted properly disposed of', Rudra would be called because he was considered the best at it. When he turned twenty, Rudra left Tejawat's Haveli and resided in a small place on the outskirts of Chandangarh. It was still some distance from Birpur, but whenever he received Tejawat's call, he drove his way back to fulfill his duties.

The small home that he lived in wasn't much. It was simple, nothing was personalized. It didn't have much more than a kitchen, a bed, and a bathroom. A cupboard placed in the very corner of the room contained the small amount of clothes that Rudra had. It appeared to be a normal, simple bachelor pad...except for one thing. Next to the cupboard, there was a large rug on the floor, which seemed very out of place. However, beneath it was a pair of wooden doors that, when opened, led to a cellar beneath the small shack. The concrete walls, which blocked all sound coming in and out, were splattered by dark stains of dried blood. Chains laid strewn on the cold, dirt floor. A small table placed to the side held torture weapons that varied from guns to knives. This was where Tejawat's prisoners were sent to receive their punishment. To live for days, suffering, begging, yelling, waiting for death to be gracious with them. However, Rudra Pratap Ranawat, properly nicknamed as the Jallad, kept Death at bay for months before it finally took the remnants of his prisoner's souls. Each killing was more ruthless than the first, and Rudra never bated an eyelash or thought twice about killing someone. With Tejawat supporting him, he was never convicted or caught. It secured him, and made him confident.

Rudra's most recent prisoner had died just a few days ago after over two weeks of torture. The young man, who was caught stealing from Tejawat's haveli, had lost seven of his fingers, four toes, sliced in various areas, and even shot in the ear. He was hung by his arms in Rudra's cellar, with a bucket placed below to catch all the blood that dripped from the victim's body. Without food or water, and the vast loss of blood, the man died a slow and painful death. Without any sign of remorse, Rudra burned the remains of the body and the blood-filled bucket. This was the face of a true jallad.

It was late one night, and Rudra was slowly making his way back home. He had a few drinks and was now walking the dimly lit dirt road, alone. He didn't mind it. He found comfort in his isolation. What bothered him more were the people.The loud hustle and bustle of the Chandangarh people that filled these streets during the day only intensified his anger even more. No matter what they said, it seemed to assure Rudra how much he disliked people. Many people of Chandangarh maintained their distance from the dark stranger that made his random appearances in the streets. He was known only for the fights he was involved in, which he never started but always ended. It always happened during the day, so Rudra reduced his outings to only late at night, when there weren't people around and he could walk without having to beat someone black and blue.

He had just reached his home and was pulling his keys out of his pocket, when his mobile rang. Rudra paused at his doorstep and pulled his phone out of his black leather jacket. The caller ID read Tejawat.

He answered, "Yes thakur-sa."

He heard Tejawat's voice on the other end of the phone, "Your services are required."

"I'm leaving right now."

Rudra hung up the phone and entered his home. He grabbed his keys to his motorcycle, which were laying on the kitchen counter, and headed back out. It was already late at night, but he hopped on his motorcycle and rode through the Rajasthan desert to reach Birpur. The small light on the front of his bike guided him. He didn't need it however. He had gone this route so many times that he practically knew it by heart. He knew Tejawat was waiting with a culprit. Rudra's conversation with the man were always short and to the point, leaving no time for leisurely chatting, which was just the way both men liked it. He would arrive, be given orders, and head back to his home to carry those orders out. This time was no different.

Upon arrival at Tejawat's Haveli, Rudra was greeted by the thakur's right hand man, Bheema. The short and stout man with a bald head and large salt-and-pepper mustache stood at the front gate with a torch in his hand. Rudra halted his motorcycle and saw the light of Bheema's torch guide his eyes to the young man bound and gagged on the ground. He was squirming like the worm in an attempt to get away. Rudra walked up to Bheema and asked what the order was, ignoring the muffled sounds coming from below.

"He's been stealing weapons from Thakur Tejawat," Bheema stated.

"Worth how much?" Rudra asked.

"Roughly 10 lakh. Thankfully he was captured before he got away with it."

"Tell thakur-sa the job will be done as always."

Rudra knelt down to the captive on the ground. He stared into the pleading eyes that were begging for mercy. He had seen this man a few times before, being given orders by Tejawat. Rudra moved the gag from his mouth to hear what he had to say.

"Please," the man begged. "Don't do this! I made a mistake! It won't happen again."

"You're right," Rudra said coldly. "It won't. I'll make sure of it."

"Please. Don't. I have a wife at home. Please don't do this."

"Your love for a woman has made you weak. It's the reason for your downfall."

Rudra was heartless to begin with. Through Tejawat, he understood that love and women would bring even the strongest man down. Therefore, he had no pity on those who had them because he believed it was a result of their weakness. This man should've known that he was begging for mercy to the wrong person. Rudra put covered the culprit's mouth again and punched the man in the face, rendering him unconscious. He picked up the man as though he was as light as a feather, and tossed him over the back of his motorcycle. Bheema moved forwards to and handed him a small bundle of rupees, his payment. Rudra took and, without saying another word, got on his bike and headed home to deal with his new prisoner.

This was how it was every time. Rudra would be handed a prisoner and his payment, and be given the order to dispose of the body properly. Words were no longer needed when the job was practically his entire life. He always completely the task, so Tejawat never questioned or doubted him. After all, he was trained by the thakur himself. Nothing could break Rudra Pratap Ranawat...or so everyone thought.

However, no one knew that destiny had a way of playing its game. It weaves a web with the tiniest strings binding the final product. Destiny had plans for Rudra. It had spent years building this jallad, only to create a situation where he was going to question his entire existence. The thing he hated and despised most would soon become the one thing that mattered most to him. He just didn't know it yet.

**********

Well, there is the first chapter! I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted Rudra to be nothing less than a jallad! Let me know what you think by leaving your comments and feedback below! Chapter two should be posted on Friday, the latest, which will introduce our beauty Parvati!

Thanks for reading!