2
Maybe this would be his end.
Maybe this would be the final round.
This would be how the Saint's died? Giving up to a bunch of terrorists because they were pussies and wanted to get pardons for all their crimes?
It's not the way Gat would ever consider going out.
He opened his eyes.
"No. I can't…I can't let this happen.."He whispered.
"I see you are ready to tell me a location? Yes?"
Jack opened his mouth to remind him, again, he didn't know. He didn't know where his God damn brother was, and never would as long as he was rotting away in this cave, but he silenced himself.
What would it do to anger him?
He had to calm himself, and remember again, what it was like to be the underdog so long ago. When he first became a Saint, and had nothing but a pair of baggy jeans and a T-shirt. He had to remember just how to be a subordinate. He couldn't piss him off, so he was quiet, licking his dry lips.
"Can I get some water?" He asked hoarsely.
Even with his best intentions of just buying some time, the man before him with his long beard and fat body stuffed in brown robes, was throughly angered by the favor being asked.
"You want water?" He laughed and his men joined in, snickering behind him with their guns still cocked at Jack. "Let's give him some water, since he's deciding not to talk again. Maybe the…the…beating was not enough?"
Jack felt himself losing patience with the situation quickly, his breath shaking vigorously, but he wouldn't let them see him angry just yet.
So he swallowed and pushed back the anger as they grabbed him from the chair he'd fallen asleep in for God knew how long. Was it day or night? How long had been in there?
They untied his feet and pushed him with guns to his back, urging him to the front door with shaky legs, and took the rag that once been his mouth to cover his eyes. He wasn't sure when they'd taken it out of his mouth, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.
They led him along a hallway, that he tried desperately to walk through, but his legs felt as though they'd give out on him at any given second.
They pulled the rag from his eyes, and the last thing he saw before his head was being thrust into water, was the murky reflection of his bloody, torn face.
"All the water you can drink and a bath. Hard to beat that-…" He cockily remarked just as they pushed his head down into the confines of an underwater prison.
This was definitely how he was going to die. Lungs burning and crying for air. His head beginning to throb and a smile across his face.
This wasn't hard. It wasn't as hard to let go. as he thought it'd be.
It wasn't hard to just…die.
There was a voice in his head, telling him to give and die. Telling him everything would brighter, better, happier, on the other side. He had assured himself by this point, that they people he'd led through Afghani gun fire in an attempt to free them from their previous crimes, were all dead. They'd killed them. Why keep them, if they had him? The highest-ranking officer.
Yes, obviously, they were dead.
They pulled him from the water, when he was so sure he was on the brink of death, and despite his heart's desire to just die, his brain forced his lungs into taking a few deep breaths.
He'd have to start dying all over again.
He had tears threatening to start rushing down his face, at least they'd be disguised by the water droplets if they happened to fall. The man took hold of his neck a little tighter, thrusting him down into the water again as his body, on it's own, began to thrash against the confines.
But this wasn't the way the Saint's should go out. With their leader's face full of tears, and aching lungs. He wouldn't be put down like this. Like a runt pup.
He couldn't.
Wasn't he the invincible Jack Taylor? Their boss? Their leader? Their commander?
Yes, he fucking was!
A power rose in him and he thrust himself backwards against the man who held him, pushing him against the wall until the all-too familiar sound of cocked guns made it's way to his ear-drums.
"Shoot me then! You won't, you bunch of pansies! Why? Because I have the location. And…no one else does. Yeah, that's right. I know it, alright. But I was the only one they told."
"That makes no sense. If we killed you, we'd find another. Some work, it would take, yes. But we would-"
"No. No, see, that's where you're wrong." Jack replied, his voice containing a finessing ferocity that he wouldn't have dared tried to search for earlier.
After a second or two of silence, the leader of the terrorist ring relented with a failing triumph.
"Why?"
"I'm the best. I'm the best in my rank and they figured if I was ever caught in some terrorist trap, I could escape without giving away the location."
"But I have caught you, successfully, and I have tortured you, successfully."
"But are you willing to kill the only man within your reach who has your brother's location? Anyone else is out of the question of you ever reaching."
"Nice point." He replied, his broken English bringing a smile to Jack's lips, "…however my torture will not kill you. It will break you…" He leaned in closer, his breath finding his right nostril and his hot breath brushing his ear, "…until you are convinced you are powerless."
He paused, backing away and with a final hoorah, he called out, "Because it's what you are, Mr. Taylor! You are not Jack Taylor, no more. You are my prisoner. You are hopeless. You are powerless!"
A few cheers were given out, but apparently his captivator silenced them and he took Jack by the shoulder, "You have saved your own life, perhaps, but your reckless behavior will not go unnoted. You will have to be punished."
"Mate? Mate, let me strike a deal with you here. I will give you your brother's location. But…don't hurt my…comrades, my squad-mates. Comprendé?"
"There is no dealing with me. Your friends are safe for now, they are not harmed. I will keep them this way because when you do give me my brother's location, I will kill the black and big one, and I will keep the women…as my pets. My men get…needy? You may say?"
"What makes you think I'd give you the location now?"
He gave a sigh, "You do not understand true pain. You will, by the time I'm done with you. You'll understand what it means to accept death, to beg for death, and then you will understand pain. And this leads to your punishment…for your violence."
He grabbed Jack by the shoulder, and something poked him in the back.
He could guess very well, that it was a gun.
