Post by Jack O'Conner on Aug 18, 2014 21:40:51 GMT 2
Standing in the darkened part of the room was Jack, accompanied by the silhouettes of three others. The blade in the racer's hand glimmered in the dull glow of a banged-up, old work-light while he picked at the dirt beneath his fingernails with its sharp tip, his eyes cold and calculating on their prisoner; Marco Vialli. The blood that the uncooperative prick had spit up earlier from Drew's brutal beating had begun to run down the Italian's chin and slowly progressed to his neck and the collar of his stained shirt even as the man squirmed a bit in the chair, flexing against the wire cuffs that tied him down. He muttered something in his native tongue, sending hateful glares towards the American.
"Hate to break it to you, amico mio, but I'm not fluent in Italian. You're gonna have to put that in English for me. And don't play stupid. I know you speak English."
The Italian jerked his head up fully and glared at Jack, seething hatred for his main captor. He was determined not to spill any answers, and it showed as he pulled back his tongue, forming a good sized glob of blood and saliva before he spat it on the concrete directly in front of the racer's feet.
"Fuck you, piece of shit American! I will tell you nothing," he ground out instead, his Italian cadence still dominant even through the switch in languages.
Jack grimaced at the Italian's terminology. It would be a lie if he said it didn't make his mind wander elsewhere to a past he thought he'd put behind him. Not responding to Marco's statement, the racer merely moved closer to him, leaning down closer to the Italian. The two men stared at each other, challenging the other to speak. When no words came, Jack merely shrugged. He acted as if he was going to turn away, but then abruptly slammed the knife down into Marco's thigh and drove the blade deep into his skin, making sure to miss any vital arteries.
"I can't tell you how much I was hoping that's what your first answer would be," the racer snarled.
Marco screamed out in pain, jerking violently from the raw pain of the blade. With his free hand, Jack was quick to wrap his fingers around the Italian's throat, his thumb pressing deep into a pressure point while he twisted the knife ever so slightly in the man's flesh, drawing even more choked, feral screams from his victim.
"Honestly, is all this useless pain really worth protecting a man who couldn't give one shit about you? WHERE IS SHE!!"
The Italian shook his head, clenching his teeth so tightly the racer thought they'd shatter under the pressure.
"Doesn't matter what you do," Marco returned in breathless defiance as he swallowed against the hand around his throat. "I'm not telling you anything."
At that, Jack released his prisoner's throat as roughly as he'd grabbed at it, pushing the man back and pulling the knife out of his flesh at the same time, blood already welling up out of the deep wound even as the racer smiled a smile that, for a moment, was dark, twisted, and very unlike his old self.
"We'll see. We're only just getting started after all..."
((OOC: Not sure how many others were joining this party, so I counted three: Mac, Regan and Drew. Hope this works for everyone. If not, lemme know!))
"Hate to break it to you, amico mio, but I'm not fluent in Italian. You're gonna have to put that in English for me. And don't play stupid. I know you speak English."
The Italian jerked his head up fully and glared at Jack, seething hatred for his main captor. He was determined not to spill any answers, and it showed as he pulled back his tongue, forming a good sized glob of blood and saliva before he spat it on the concrete directly in front of the racer's feet.
"Fuck you, piece of shit American! I will tell you nothing," he ground out instead, his Italian cadence still dominant even through the switch in languages.
Jack grimaced at the Italian's terminology. It would be a lie if he said it didn't make his mind wander elsewhere to a past he thought he'd put behind him. Not responding to Marco's statement, the racer merely moved closer to him, leaning down closer to the Italian. The two men stared at each other, challenging the other to speak. When no words came, Jack merely shrugged. He acted as if he was going to turn away, but then abruptly slammed the knife down into Marco's thigh and drove the blade deep into his skin, making sure to miss any vital arteries.
"I can't tell you how much I was hoping that's what your first answer would be," the racer snarled.
Marco screamed out in pain, jerking violently from the raw pain of the blade. With his free hand, Jack was quick to wrap his fingers around the Italian's throat, his thumb pressing deep into a pressure point while he twisted the knife ever so slightly in the man's flesh, drawing even more choked, feral screams from his victim.
"Honestly, is all this useless pain really worth protecting a man who couldn't give one shit about you? WHERE IS SHE!!"
The Italian shook his head, clenching his teeth so tightly the racer thought they'd shatter under the pressure.
"Doesn't matter what you do," Marco returned in breathless defiance as he swallowed against the hand around his throat. "I'm not telling you anything."
At that, Jack released his prisoner's throat as roughly as he'd grabbed at it, pushing the man back and pulling the knife out of his flesh at the same time, blood already welling up out of the deep wound even as the racer smiled a smile that, for a moment, was dark, twisted, and very unlike his old self.
"We'll see. We're only just getting started after all..."
((OOC: Not sure how many others were joining this party, so I counted three: Mac, Regan and Drew. Hope this works for everyone. If not, lemme know!))