𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 | 𝙷.𝚂.

twenty six - the hostage ordeal

make sure you read twenty five before this one!

_____________________________________

Nine's hands were around the throat of the man, his knuckles white with their grip, blood quite literally on his hands and beneath his fingernails. Their faces were mere inches apart, but his eyes were swollen as Nine's blared menacingly at him.

He had taken his suit jacket off minutes ago, sweating into his silk shirt that now had blood spatters from the stab wound he'd inflicted onto the man he was currently choking, and planning on killing.

His grip intensified before he pulled the man's head bank by his neck, slamming it harshly into the brick wall outside the back of Cherry's.

Nine repeated the action when he still refused to speak.

He groaned in pain right before Nine did it a third time, this time hearing a crunch and then feeling blood pool onto his fingers on the back of his neck. His jaw was clenched so tightly as he did it again, standing over the poor fucker that had duct tape hanging from his cheek where it was once over his now wet mouth, his hands tied behind his back.

He was crouched on the cold concrete of the alley beside a dumpster, the red brick behind him looking wet from his blood, slowing trickling behind his back and likely staining the white dress shirt he wore.

Nine growled deep within his chest, raising his fist and socking the man in his stomach so harshly that he spat up hot, red liquid in response, straight onto Nine's face.

He didn't mind, simply wiping it off of his mouth before flaring his nostrils and grabbing onto the blonde hair on his head, pulling aggressively upwards and forcing him to stand. He groaned loudly through blood pouring from his lips, his eyes attempting to open from the state that Nine inflicted during their drive here.

Oswald got away.

He fucking got away with seven people pointing their guns at him.

How? Well, let's just say that there were at least ten people inside of that event that were undercover beneath Oswald waiting for The Nine to make a move. They had no choice but to let him leave, which Nine hated more than anything in the world right now. He was taking it out on this man.

They were so close to finally getting where they needed to be.

And while they scrambled to leave before anyone had the ability to shoot them, this poor fucker tripped on the threshold of the entrance trying to chase them with his gun, so, naturally, they kidnapped him will full intent on doing exactly what Nine is now.

His fist met the guy's cheek harshly, a load of bloody spit and likely a tooth shooting out of his mouth and to the side, where his neck snapped to from the impact.

"Gonna fess up lovey?" Nine whispered to him, close enough to his face to see a tear escape his eye.

He laughed lowly at the blonde.

The man spit to the side, coughing harshly before straightening back out as much as he could, which was not much with his injuries.

"No."

It was rough coming out, and his voice started to gargle as it seemed more blood was coming up his airways, but Nine heard him, nonetheless.

He wrapped his hands around his neck once again, tightening his hold this time, the metallic smell of blood flooding into his nostrils. He proceeded to whip his head back by his neck again before slamming it into the brick, harder this time.

Nine's teeth were grit together, his eyes crazy, and his nostrils flared. He knew he looked like a fucking demon, but that's exactly how he wanted to appear in front of this little puppet. To scare him into confession.