God, It Must Be Torture

Part 4

Tied up, tight-lipped, and above all unfazed, Jack "Mama Bear" Pattillo said nothing. Her eyes stared straight ahead at the faded back wall of the warehouse, glazed over, not taking any notice of the sparking jumper cable wires being pressed against her arms.

The pain was intense, like swallowing a thousand killer bees and being bitten by twenty venomous snakes all at once, while also having millions of tiny spiders crawl over your skin, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She was trained to do this.

If anyone had thought Greg was pissed, they wouldn't be shocked to know he was absolutely livid. What the hell was this crew made out of? Is their only weakness kryptonite or some shit? He could literally see the electricity flowing through her body, and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She was clearly in pain, why wasn't she screaming?

Masking his irritation, he put on his soothing voice to coerce the information out of the silent redhead.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he cooed, taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb, "I wanna hear you tell me all your secrets, all of them – even the dirty ones. If you won't tell, then I wanna hear you scream to the Heaven that you fell from."

Jack let out a huff like she was laughing, but kept her silence. She shook free of his grasp and caught a glimpse of her bound crew, all worried and apprehensive of how she was taking the pain. Her eyes found Ryan's, and received a nod from him as a form of encouragement. He had trained her to keep her head about her, even when she felt like she was losing it. She was strong on her own, but a little training now and then never hurt anyone.

Sneering, Greg motioned for Jess to let up on the electric shock, and then faced Reggie, who took the sudden attention as a sign to grab the tools. Though she felt immensely relieved, Jack didn't show it. She couldn't show weakness now.

Reggie returned with a black pack that was rolled up and tied together. Greg took the pack from him, and unwound it to reveal several knives that were tucked into slots and arranged by size. He smiled as he chose a knife whose blade was curved and polished to give off a unique sheen.

All the while, Jack made no visible movements. She made her eyes dart over the faces of her teammates. She could see that they were all uncomfortable, cringing at her appearance even though the Satans hadn't even touched her with a knife. She knew how they felt – when Michael was taking a hit, she couldn't even look at him. He was part of her family; they wall were, and it physically pained her to see them all suffer.

Despite being a major dumbass, Greg managed to get one thing right. The one way that the FAHC was going to fess up was to make them all watch each other get tortured. And as far as he was concerned, it hadn't worked. However, Jack could see that it had taken its toll on her crew, and knew one of the last two members would crack.

Greg knelt down in front of Jack, obscuring her view of her crew, and gazed at her in amazement. It was remarkable that she had kept her silence for this long. He hadn't encountered anyone like that in all his years of torturing.

"All right, darling," he whispered. "I hope you had time to think about your answer. Now I'm going to ask you one more time." He held up his knife and ran the tip lightly down her collarbone, causing an involuntary shiver to erupt down her body.

"Where's Lester's goddamned money?"

Jack swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, and attempted to look behind her tormentor to seek advice from Ryan. For a fleeting second, she caught sight of him, and again got a single nod for encouragement.

Then, she leaned forward, focusing in on the slimy man in front of her, determination in her eyes and sass in her smile. The tip of the knife began digging into her skin, almost drawing blood, as she got closer to Greg to whisper two simple words to him.

"Fuck. Off."

Greg sucked in a breath, fire in his eyes and an unsettling feeling boiling in his stomach, and dragged the knife down the length of her collar, leaving a fresh trail of blood in its wake.  Jack shifted under this new pain in her chest and almost winced. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to take her mind off of the searing cut that was burning like melted gold being poured on her.

Suddenly the knife left her neck, a satisfying sensation, which was quickly followed by a smack across her face. The force behind the action was so intense that it nearly made the chair tip over. Jack let out a low level gasp, and opened her eyes in shock.

Jack could see her crew twisting and turning every which way to move and free themselves. They were struggling to get up and go to her. They were muffling obscenities toward the Satans, and Jack knew that they were on the edge of losing all self-control that they had left.

"You stupid bitch," Greg growled. "Get her out of the chair." As his crew cut her zip ties from her wrists and hoisted her to her feet, Greg briskly walked over to the second to last victim of the FAHC.

"Lookie who's next," he cackled, "little squirrely man. Vav, right?" He grabbed a handful of Gavin's hair and pulled, making the bruised Brit look at him.

"I'll bet you'll break in five minutes," he taunted. "This one next," he told two of his men who were finishing up binding Jack. "Maybe we won't have to interrogate Boss Man. We could just kill him when we're done here."

That final statement was met with angry incoherency from both Gavin and Michael. No way he was gonna off Geoff. They wouldn't let him.

Before the two men made a grab for Gavin, Geoff, using what little was left of his energy, sprung forward between the head Satan and the crew's most valuable member. He fell face first into the ground, grunting from his rag as he did so. Upon hitting the ground, he was able to loosen his gag and spit it from his mouth.

"No, no," Geoff said breathlessly. "Take me. "Take me, please. I'm begging you."