Brother Blood awakens in an empty and dark warehouse. His mind is foggy and his vision is blurred. In vain he tries to recall how he got there, only discovering that his forehead is throbbing. Someone must have knocked him out. But who would bother doing such a thing? No one knows his true identity except for one man, and although he would never trust such a man fully he is somehow certain it is not the man who gifted him with the Mirakuru. There would already be much more suffering if it were so. He tries to move, but finds himself strapped tightly to a chair. He attempts to loosen his bonds, knock the chair over, but it is too heavy for him in his current state. Mild panic begins to creep into the edges of his mind, almost clearing his mental fog, but it is not enough. His mask is gone and his identity is revealed. "Shit," he breathes ever so silently.
Suddenly the lights behind him snap on, allowing him to see the hooded figure standing a few meters in front of him. It is the Hood, the man he has been tasked to torment. He stands tall and foreboding with his identity carefully concealed, quiver filled, bow in his hand. Beneath the hood there is no mercy, no shred of hesitation to tear the evil from Blood's bones. So this is how it happens, Blood thinks. This is how it all ends.
The Hood rushes over and barrels into him at full speed, knocking the chair over forcefully and causing Blood to hit his head on the unforgiving concrete floor. His head explodes in raw pain and his vision swims. He can vaguely see that the Hood is yelling something at him, but he cannot hear anything other than the high-pitched ringing pounding in his ears. An overwhelming nausea overtakes him and his head lolls to the side. He feels his hair start to stick to the back of his head, and knows he is bleeding. The dark green form of the Hood steps back, and the world lags around Blood as his chair is suddenly pulled upright again. His head snaps forward and his chin hits his chest. Momentary blackness flashes across his vision before his shoulders are shaken violently and his head is jostled.
"Answer me!" the Hood yells at a deafening level as the ringing slowly subsides. Blood merely looks up into the hood, trying to find the vigilante's eyes, but they are shrouded in darkness. He only sees the hard line of the man's mouth formed into a steely expression of deep anger. He allows himself a little smirk which he knows he will pay for but not regret.
"You are not the one I fear most," he slurs as blood collects in his mouth. He spits it out and shoots a contemptuous glare into the shroud of darkness that covers the vigilante's eyes. He knows he's made eye contact even if he cannot see who it is behind the hood.
The Hood suddenly grabs Blood's forearms and squeezes with hands like iron. Blood sobers up from the pain. Even though the vigilante is not superhuman like his master, he sure has a hell of a grip. Blood winces and the Hood puts his head so close that their noses almost touch. The proximity sends shivers up his spine.
"I'll ask again nicely, before things get very bad for you." The tone is deeper this time, even more threatening.
Blood manages a weak chuckle. "You won't...get anything out of me."
"I'll ask again," the Hood says, unyielding. He moves his face to Blood's ear, and the villain can feel the hot breath of the vigilante down his collar. This is the moment. He must resist. He must, for the sake of his life, resist.
The Hood's hands are like the very touch of death. Blood closes his eyes. "Brother Blood...what does the Fox say?"
Nope, not even fucking sorry