Throw Away The Key

8. Rescue Mission

Gravity takes a nosedive for a second and Monroe is momentarily disoriented as he's flipped onto his back and dragged out of the cage by his ankle. He's flipped again, one arm wrenched sharply behind his back, a heavy knee pressing painfully into his lower back, and there's a distinctly metal feeling of the baseball bat pressing itself into the back of his head. One of the Nachtkrapp is pinning him to the floor of the trailer, one of them is standing in front of the door of the cage, and the one with the baseball bat is ready to use his head for target practice at a signal from the ringleader in front of them. In short, he's well and truly screwed...

"Mind telling me why you're trying to steal my number one attraction?" The ringleader asks, crouching down in front of him so he's more or less eye level with Monroe. The blutbad still has to crane his neck to the side to see him and the pressure on his back increases marginally. The pain is staggering, like a knife stabbing into his spine, and it causes his breath to hitch awkwardly. All the fury, all the rage he'd possessed before coming in here, all the terrible things he wanted to do to the men in this trailer...and now he was essentially paralyzed on the floor. Things couldn't really get much worse at the moment.

"I'm going to ask you again," the ringleader drawls and his pointed features shift a bit in a mask of barely controlled irritation. "Why are you trying to steal my Grimm?"

Monroe winces before he speaks. "Ngh...I'm an activist...a member of WETOG...you know, Wesen for the Ethical Treatment Of Grimms? I was sent to set him free..."

The ringleader smirks that same wicked smile and shakes his head, straightening and brushing past him over to the cage. The Nachtkrapp standing in front of the cage steps to the side and allows him to enter the cage alone with Nick. The detective is still too delirious to comprehend what's going on and he's curled on his side, mumbling incoherently. Monroe feels his stomach drop a bit at the position he's in. "I don't believe you," he says simply, tapping his fingers along the metal bars of the cage. "You called him by name which means you know him personally. So I'm going to ask you one more time," he fixes Monroe with a dark look that says he's getting tired of waiting for an answer. "Why are you here?"

Monroe shakes his head to the best of his ability, which is pretty jerky and awkward from his position on the trailer floor. Revealing that he knew Nick personally could have disastrous consequences for both of them; well, more disastrous than they already were. He needed to stall for just a bit longer so he could figure out how to get them out of this situation. He just needed an opening, anything that could give him the advantage..."I don't know what you're talking about...I've never met this guy before in my life..."

The ringleader's eyes narrow and he sneers. "Liar." He lashes out at Nick with a vicious kick, catching the younger man in his wounded side. Nick gasps harshly, a strangled cry cutting from his throat, and curls in on himself, covering his side protectively. Monroe can smell blood, fresh and hot, and there's a darkening red stain that suddenly appears on the white bandages between Nick's fingers. Monroe growls deep and low in his chest, eyes flashing crimson and teeth gleaming in the dim light of the trailer.

The ringleader smirks again and circles around Nick like a hungry shark. "So you do know him? What a surprise..." He passes by Nick's right ankle, the one he'd been avoiding putting weight on earlier in the show, and brings his foot down sharply. Nick cries out again, drawing his leg up to his chest and trying to alleviate some of the pain. He's sweating now, trembling all over, and his breathing is ragged and harsh. He can't take much more of this, not in the condition he's already in, and Monroe knows it. "You know, I grow weary of your silence..." The ringleader mutters, dropping down to one knee beside Nick and reaching for his arm.