The dark basement room had been transformed into a medieval-looking dungeon, all four walls fitted with heavy metal shackles. A sickening smell of urine lingered in the air and an incessant buzzing sound came from a large wooden box in the corner, placed there by the attacker. The room was sound- and escape-proof. Once locked inside, there was no way of getting out unless someone let you out.

‘It doesn’t matter how you’ve lived your life,’ the other man continued, disregarding the bleeding man. ‘It doesn’t matter how rich you are, what you’ve accomplished, who you know or what hopes you have. In the end the same thing will happen to all of us – we’ll all die.’

‘Please, God, no.’

‘What matters is how we die.’

The man on the floor coughed, spitting out a thin red mist of blood.

‘Some people die naturally, painlessly, as they reach the end of a natural cycle.’ The man laughed a bizarre, gurgling laugh. ‘Some people suffer for years with incurable diseases, fighting every minute to add just a few more seconds to their lives.’

‘I… I’m not rich. I don’t have much, but whatever I have you can take.’

‘Shhhh.’ The man brought a finger to his lips before whispering, ‘I don’t need your money.’

Another cough. Another mist of blood.

An evil smile parted the assailant’s lips. ‘Some people die very slowly,’ he continued. His voice was cold. ‘The pain of death can drag on for hours… days… weeks… If you know what you’re doing, there’s no limit, did you know that?’ He paused.

Until then, the chained man hadn’t noticed the nail gun in his attacker’s hand.

‘And I really do know what I’m doing. Allow me to demonstrate.’ He stepped on the bone protruding from the victim’s fractured ankle, bent over and quickly fired three nails into the man’s right knee. Intense pain shot up the victim’s leg and sucked the air out of his lungs, blurring his vision for several seconds. The nails were only three inches long. Not long enough to puncture through to the other side, but sharp enough to shatter bone, cartilage and ligaments.