- Chapter 79 - I'm going to warn you all: these next few chapters with Race get really dark, like especially for me -
Warnings: Abuse, insults, sarcastic remarks, and other stuff
Third Person POV
"Quit struggling!" Barter snapped, trying to force Race to sit down in the chair.
Impulse gritted his teeth. "You idiot," he grumbled, holding Race's hands together. "Stop moving!"
Race wiggled as much as he could to try and get away from them. "Get- off of me!" he grunted, trying to kick Barter away.
"You little-" Barter leapt forward, trying to wrap the rope around his hands. "Sit down!"
Impulse finally forced Race to sit down, holding him down while Barter tied his hand to the chair. He glared down at him, hatred burning in his eyes. "You don't give up, do you, you stubborn idiot?" he grumbled.
Race glared at him. "Weren't you the one saying you always liked a challenge?" he questioned, clearly mocking him.
Impulse gritted his teeth. He wanted to make Race regret saying anything, but decided instead to just ask Barter if he was done.
"Almost!" Barter rolled his eyes. "Stop rushing me. You're doing a crap job at keeping his hand down," he snapped.
Impulse rolled his eyes and roughly pinned Race's hand to the arm of the chair.
Race winced in pain.
Impulse almost smirked when he saw.
Despite Race's attempts to stop them, they finished tying Race's hands and torso to the arms of the chair and the back of the chair after a few minutes.
"Thank God." Impulse leaned his back against the wall, pulling out a cigarette.
Race tried pulling his hands out from the ropes. "You know, I've always hated ropes," he commented, trying to act calmer than he felt. "They were one of the one things my father rarely used."
Impulse grabbed a lighter and lit his cigarette. "Well, get used to them," he grumbled. "They'll be your friends for a while."
"And we wouldn't have had to use them if you had just made our job easier and not untied the other rope and almost broken the window," Barter reminded him, clearly annoyed that they now had to repair the window.
Race would've smirked, if he wasn't annoyed he'd gotten himself into a worse situation with less likely chances to get out.
He kept doing the math, and it seemed as though with every passing second, the chances of him making it out okay were dimming.
"I didn't even know he could reach that window," Scar commented, speaking up for the first time since he had come into the room. "He hasn't exactly grown since the last time I saw him."
Race's gaze (or glare) turned to him. It had been years since he had seen Scar, and his last impression of him was not a fun memory to relive. "And you haven't gotten any smarter than the last time I saw you," he quipped.
Scar kept the same calm-exterior that he had maintained for the whole time he had been in the room. It was very different from how he was since the last time he had seen him. "I don't believe you know enough about me to make that call," he stated.
Race gritted his teeth. "Then you don't know enough about me to stand there and judge everything about me," he snapped.
Scar raised an eyebrow at him. "Incorrect."
Race scoffed. "Please, what could you, who I haven't seen in almost... six years, know about me?" he questioned.
"Your hatred of being babied and treating injuries," Scar answered.
"Easy. Everyone knows that." Race rolled his eyes. "You were there when I first became a Manhattan Newsie."
"What you don't know is ever since you came into Spot's life, we've been watching you, Racetrack," Scar informed him. "For a while, you were a stupid kid I knew from the borough that betrayed me," he stated.
Race scoffed. "Betrayed you?" He rolled his eyes again. "If you mean threw you out for your violent outbursts, then yeah, we did betray you."
"But you waltzed your way into Spot's life and became a Brooklyn Newsie, then his soft spot," Scar continued. "You're really smart, even if you don't know it, which is sometimes incredibly infuriating," he stated. "Everything you do has some sort of routine, and despite all of your boroughs' attempts to throw us off of your trail, your ideas can be easily figured out."
Race swallowed, knowing what he was talking about. "Me switching buddies wasn't my idea," he mumbled.
"Maybe that's why it didn't work," Scar commented. "No matter, it's useless to think about that now."
Race stared at him. "How long... have you been watching me?" he mumbled.
"Well... when did you become a Brooklyn Newsie?" Scar asked.
Race cringed. "Half-Brooklyn," he corrected, "and also, stalking is creepy, guys, especially when you've been stalking someone for years."
"Yeah, but you didn't become very important until right after the strike," Barter commented, playing with a blade.
"And why did I become important?" Race questioned, trying to get some sense of their plan.
Barter smirked as if he knew Race's motive with asking that question. "Now that, that I can't tell you, Race-wit," he responded.
Race's eyebrows furrowed.
Impulse blew smoke out of his mouth. He looked at Barter. "What?"
Barter looked at him. "Race-wit. Nitwit, but with his name," he responded like it was obvious.
Impulse rolled his eyes and stuck the cigarette back in his mouth.
Race stared at him. He bit his lip to try and bite back a remark, but he just couldn't. Holding back remarks just wasn't him and he'd be betraying himself to say differently. "If they call me a 'nitwit', they should call you a 'halfwit', because at least I have wit," he quipped.
Barter glared at him, and Impulse huffed, as if he was holding back a snicker.
Scar had a small smirk on his face.
Barter clenched his fists. "I'm going to go talk to Boss about the next phase before I slap him so hard the chair hits the floor," he grumbled, leaving the room.
Race watched him leave. "I'm not sure he could do that," he said.
"You're daring for someone who's tied to a chair," Impulse commented.
"Oh, like you're daring for someone who could get taken down by any Brooklyn Newsie in two seconds?" Race questioned.
Impulse's face fell. "You should watch your tongue, Racetrack," he sneered. "Those remarks are going to get you in trouble."
Scar looked amused. "He's the same cocky idiot with the stupid remarks as he was when he was a kid," he commented.
Race glared at him. "Excuse you, you know nothing about me, what I'm like, or what I used to be like," he stated. "You call me smart and then call me an idiot, and my remarks are defense and help keep me from breaking," he snapped.
Impulse and Scar both stopped. Impulse grinned.
Race instantly knew he'd messed up. "I-"
"Your remarks keep you from breaking, huh?" Impulse chuckled darkly. "That's sure good to know, isn't it? I bet Boss would be really glad to know."
"I didn't mean that," Race tried to backtrack. "They-
"Oh, no. I heard you quite well." Impulse smirked. "Once your remarks stop, we've broken you. That's what you said," he stated.
"You're switching my words," Race growled. "And you have a lot of confidence to think you could break me," he said. "I've been to the Refuge twice and been put through a ton with my father."
"Oh, Racer." Impulse laughed. "You're mighty confident that we can't break you."
Race glared at him.
He wasn't going to break; he'd make sure of it.
1290 Words