Eliot frowned deeply, staring at the floor in confusion. Where am I? He moved to shift his sore muscles but felt the familiar sting of cuffs and the slightly less familiar sensation of being suspended above the ground by chains. He looked up at the damned manacles, his head falling again to note his dangling low enough to be just out of reach of relief from his aches from being hung. He was stiff and groggy, a sign he'd been unconscious under the influence of drugging for at least several hours, most likely long enough to take him far away from his home and team. His head flew to the side, cheek stinging as he'd been slapped. His eyes shot open. When did I close them? The drugs still kept him disoriented and he grew nervous at his slippery mental state. The dark form that accosted him carried an aura of menace that almost made the seasoned hitter shiver. The man spoke. I know that voice, he thought and groaned when the figure laughed boisterously. That laugh… Damien Moreau cackled as startled recognition broke across the hazed prisoner's face.
"Yes, Spencer, it is I. Don't look so surprised. I promised we'd meet again, and I am a man of my word." The amused man stepped forward and forcefully grabbed his prey's chin, sneering as the man inhaled sharply. "I'm sure you remember my ultimate vow, am I correct?" The hitter narrowed his eyes, which changed to being pinched in pain as the crime magnate dug his nails into his chin, drawing blood. "If you don't recall, perhaps I'll just beat it into you again…"
"I remember, Moreau, but don't get cocky: my team'll find you and this time we won't just drop you off in a cell."
The Croat whistled. "My my, mighty words for a little man all trussed up like a pig for slaughter. Tell me, swine, how do they plan to influence me when I've executed or captured them all? Their bodies are rotting in their offices. Perhaps when I'm done with you, I'll leave you to die alone with their corpses. Would you like that?"
"You're lying," Eliot snarled, trying to remain calm.
"You're right, I didn't just take them, I let my men have some fun first. We dealt with them one at a time. First the grifter: Ms. Devereaux wove her words and pulled every trick she had to fend them off, but a few of mine dragged her off easily enough. I left her in the hands of my most creative. They love to break the clever ones. The hacker thought he was strong: that is, until I broke a few bones of his, then let my cruelest drag him away. See, they'll take what they can get, and the men put up more desperate fights only to lose more drastically; the sadistic ones love that. Then the thief. Parker tried to escape but seeing as she could have done it, I took her into my personal care. How pretty she was, so flexible when bent and broken. She's one I didn't kill; I have her chained to my bed for my entertainment. She looks frail but her stamina is incredible: I could make use of her for months. Finally, the head of your little crew. Ford tried to reason with me, negotiating for their lives. I gave him the choice of letting me take his team or I'd kill you all, just out of curiosity about his loyalty. He agreed and the look on his face was priceless as I killed his lover then the mastermind himself. Yes, I decided to keep the hacker as a bonus for my men. Yes, I have quite the collection of beautiful toys now. You are the priceless centerpiece though, my darling. I will make you mine, and then you'll be nothing more than a broken slave. Then I'll kill you and leave you with your friends to decay in unmarked and unrecognized graves."
By now the hitter had lowered his head, eyes closed. He had no doubt that his captor spoke the truth, and his empty threats would only amuse the bastard.
"So, schiavo, which would you rather I break first, your skin or your bones?"