Once Broken

Prologue

It was midnight in L.A. The sky was black, with dark storm clouds overhead, blocking out the stars and moon from view. A few miles from the city limits, in a beautiful country lot, stood a large, well lit mansion. With a long, dirt driveway, lined by small oak trees, and a iron gated fence standing 10 feet tall, locked.
The rain fell gently, creating the continuous sound of a soft static-like sound, and the pitter-patter as small rain drops fell on the shingled roof of the large mansion.
In a side garage, holding 3 cars on car lifts. The shop lights were off, leaving the room dark. The lift to the 1976 Mustang started to lower the large car to the ground, the operator wearing a black outfit, the keys to the car in his left hand as the right hand operated the lifts control.
Just as the car wheels met the ground, the lift arms moving out from under the car after it touched down, the lights turned on. Surprised, the black clothed man flinched, before starting to make a break for it, to the door that led to outside. But 2 broad-shouldered men stood in his way, shoulder to shoulder. He realized this too late, colliding with one of them, grabbed by his large hands.
Despite his struggling, the mountain of a man dragged him over to a chair that someone had placed into the center of the room. As he set and kept the thief down, the other bound the thief with rope, binding both his ankles and wrists to the sturdy metal that made the chair.
The thief thrashed in his bindings, though he knew there was no escaping what was going to happen to him.
The door behind him opened abruptly, before shutting loudly.
"Caught 'em, boss. F*cker tried to steal the '76. He just got it off the lift. Looks like our worm was right." A voice said behind him, coming from the man who had grabbed the thief.
"Good job, Chris." The newcomer said, walking within the view of the thief, yanking off the mask upon his head, revealing his face.the newcomer was dressed in a black suit, with a white undershirt, a blue tie with gray stripes. His brown hair was short and slightly curly, forming nicely into his
"Jacob.... sonuvabitch.... you f*cking betrayed me. You tried to get this car to the Russians. Big. Mistake." The newcomer said.
"Daniel, I can explain-"
"No you can't, Jacob. I trust every one of you like family. And when family breaks their trust... they deserve to be punished. But because you betrayed me in this way, I'll make sure you f*cking suffer. And I'll relish in every damn second of it." Daniel said, striking him across the cheek with a balled fist, causing Jacob to grunt in pain.
"Now tell me... how do you prefer to die? Quickly and relatively painless, or slowly and painfully?" Daniel asked.
"Quickly and relatively painless...." Jacob mumbled.
"Don't order me around, bastard. I don't really give a shit what you choose, you are still going to die painfully." Daniel said, smirking.
"B-but you just asked me-"
This was answered with another slug across the face, splitting his upper lip, making it start to bleed. Daniel rubbed his own knuckles.
"You got a thick skull there. Let's see if you can get this through that thick head of yours; I'm the boss. The boss doesn't get bossed around. If I ask someone what they want, they say 'whatever you want, boss'. Too bad you won't be alive long enough to try again." Daniel said, taking a knife from a poker within his dress jacket.
The blade itself was a 10 inches long, made with thick, sharp steel, with Finnish words engraved in the shiny metal. The handle was made of oak wood, with a gold metal piece at the end.
Daniel held the blade to Jacob's arm, tracing the blade slowly along the forearm, shaving off his arm hairs. Jacob breathed heavily, starting to sweat upon his brow.
Chris walked to Daniel, tapping his shoulder. Daniel turned to him, rather exasperated by this.
"What is it?" He said, bored.
"Boss, there's a meetin' you have to attend at 9, remember?" Chris stated to him.
"Yes of course.. can be getting blood on me then... Chris, you can take care of him for me as I go get the Lamborghini Diablo?" Daniel asked.
"More than happy too." Chris replied, taking out his own knife.
"Good. Oh, and put all the parts we took out of the '76 back into it." Daniel added, before walking out of the room.
Behind him, screams of pain and agony filled the night. To this, Daniel started humming happily, walking to his black Camaro second-gen, 1973, starting the engine, and backing out, driving off into the night.