"Where is she?" A deep growl came from the mercenary, holding his 909 in his right hand while his left fist was clenched next to his side.
"I don't know!" Piers hissed at the taller man. He was currently sitting in a chair, wrists bound by a cable behind it and his ankles tied to the front legs of the chair. There was also a chord around his torso to keep him firmly tied to the thing. How did he get here? Jake had given him a swift elbow to the face not too long ago and manhandled him to where he was now. The room was barren, a single bulb of light dangling from the ceiling by its wires and the wooden door shut so that they were alone.
"Bullshit." Jake stepped closer to the BSAA agent and promptly smacked him upside his left cheek with his handgun. A satisfying crack as the man's head fell to the side caused him to smirk, the scar on his cheek moving with the muscles.
Piers didn't say anything after being hit, hissing under his breath as he felt the knot begin to form on his cheekbone. Shit, that hurt. He slid his tongue to the inside of his left cheek, noting the slick texture of blood forming there. Lifting his head up so he could look up at the man before him, he spit the blood at him.
Having blood sprayed on his jacket hadn't amused him in the least. Yes, it was satisfying to have the agent bleeding from his now-bruised cheek, but this… This he would not stand for.
"I'm gonna ask you one more time," a gloved hand reached forward to grab Piers' jaw and pull his head forward, "and if you don't tell me where she is, your precious Captain is going to be receiving your bloody carcass on his doorstep." He let go of the man's jaw with a jerk of his hand, grabbing the keffiyeh around his neck to wipe the blood off of his jacket.
"Tch…" The marksman turned his head away from him, eyes glaring down at the dirty floor as he tried to threaten him. "What makes you say I did it, huh?!" He spat the words at him, growling under his breath. How dare he go through such lengths to question him about something he didn't even do.
"I happen to know for a fact you did it," Jake circled around the chair as he observed the man in it turn his head to watch him warily. He rest the hand holding his 909 on the back of the chair, leaning down close to Piers' ear. "You're a terrible liar for an agent," his voice was low and he reached around him with his free hand to snake a hand beneath the agent's jacket.
Piers stiffened his posture instantly, leaning back against the chair and knocking his head into Jake's jaw, trying to deter the man's hand from touching him. "Don't touch me, you piece of shit!"
"Stop barking orders at me. You're in no position to be telling me what to do." He felt around the inside of his jacket until his fingers dipped down into one of the inside pockets, fishing out a keyring with a single key on it and standing up straight once more. He dangled the keyring around his middle finger as he stepped around to be in front of Piers. "Mind telling me where you got these?"
"Fuck you," he growled, wrists straining against the cable wrapped around them. It was hard enough to breathe with the chords around his chest. This guy had some nerve… He'd get his revenge. One way or another. As soon as he got out of these bindings, he was going to start swinging.
"Not today, little puppy," Jake chided and flipped the key around so his fingers held onto the rubber grip. He stepped closer once more and pressed the barrel of his gun to the underside of the man's jaw, tipping his head back forcefully so he had to look at him. "I'm going to take my time with this. The longer you draw this out, the more you're going to wish I was just fucking with you. Now tell me." Another smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, head canting to the side as he stared down at the agent.
Piers glared up at the mercenary, though found that he was in a difficult position to be getting cocky with him. He jerked his head away from the gun with a grunt, furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw shut. "Make me," he managed to growl out.
Jake frowned and straightened himself. He holstered his 909 and put the key away into his own jacket pocket. With Piers giving him a confused look, he pulled out and flicked open a pocket knife. The uncertainty was apparent on the BSAA operative's face as he stood there, idly polishing the blade with the edge of his shirt.
"What are—" And all of a sudden there's pain shooting up the right side of his body. "MOTHER OF— FUCK— YOU—" His words were stammered between his heavy breathing and struggling with his binds. The blade was embedded all the way into his upper right thigh, the blood welling up around the handle and spilling over onto the floor.
"Tell me." He waited a moment for Piers to calm down from the initial pain and he grabbed the knife again, ripping it out at an angle. "Or would you like a matching set?" Fingers nimbly twirled the stained blade in his hand before returning it to a downward position, hand fisted around the handle once more.
"I'm going to kill yo—" His words were cut off once more as the mercenary slammed the blade down onto his left thigh, practically in the same place as the gash on his right. He clenched his teeth and winced, holding back the pained sounds. "Augh— Ah— Fuck—" He struggled against his bindings once more, though his efforts were only rewarded with the younger man pulling the knife from his leg again. "F… Fine." His breath was erratic already, head lowered as his eyes watched the red stain his pants and drip to the floor. There was already a good pool of the red liquid below him.
"I'm listenin', princess." The frown on his face never left as he watched the man squirm in the chair. He waited for him to speak, but slowly grew aggravated that he was taking too long. "You're wasting precious time." He grabbed Piers' face with his left hand once more, fingers digging into the skin as he forced him to look up. "Spit it out."
Piers was beginning to feel drowsy at this point. Fuck, those gashes in his legs wouldn't stop bleeding. How much blood had he lost…? His vision blurred as his head was forced back again, tongue idly licking his dried lips only to smear blood on them from the earlier damage dealt to his face. "It's… it's about seven miles east of here… I left it under an over pass."
"About fucking time." The hand released its grip on the older man's face, dropping to wipe off any residual blood onto his scarf once more. "Under a… You've got to be fucking kidding me." He took his pocket knife and gripped it as though he was going to hurt him again, causing Piers to flinch slightly at the motion, but instead of cutting him again he slammed the end of the handle into Piers' right cheekbone. "I'll send someone to get you in the morning."
His head snapped to the side once more as the handle collided with his cheek. "FUCK YOU! It's barely past noon!" He let out an annoyed growl as the mercenary simply walked to the door and left him there. "GET BACK HERE!" He continued yelling even after Jake had long gone to retrieve the motorcycle he'd ditched somewhere on the side of the road.
