First off, I want to say a big sorry for not updating in ages, but here it is chapter 4, and I hope that you all like it and please review.
I also want to give a shout-out to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: wicked-n-lazy, Skunk and Hedgehog, Sawyer Fan and yaonne-san.
I would also like to reply to those who anomalously reviewed:
HexGirl8604: Sorry that it wasn't soon, but please forgive me :)
Your fan: I'm flattered that you like the story so much!
Well, on with the story then!
Chapter 4
Walking over to the young man who was confined to the chair, Charles walked behind Tom and used a knife to cut away the rope which was keeping him in place. Tom let out a hiss of pain when he felt the knife catch his skin, making small droplets of blood fall to the floor.
Without saying a word, or even showing any sign of acknowledging Toms show of pain, Charles walked back round to the front of the chair and cut the rope from Toms legs, and set the knife down on the floor. Standing back to his full height of six foot, three inches, Charles barked at Tom,
'Stay here…or else some very bad things will happen. If you didn't like the feeling of your fingers breaking, think about your neck'
Not liking the sound of that, but smart enough not to refuse, Tom stood on shaky legs, his vision blurring and making him feel ill due to the blood loss. On reflex Tom went to left his right hand to cover his eyes, and let out a yell of pain and braced his right arm across his chest, holding it by the wrist with his left, uninjured, hand.
Tom watched through tear blurred vision as Charles walked over to the door and left, slamming it shut before locking it. Leaning against the wall and sliding down it, his arm still wrapped protectively across his chest, Tom bowed his head and felt the first tear fall from his eye, too scared and hurt to feel ashamed.
'I hope that the League get here' Tom thought, before letting the first sob wrack his body.
Sitting on Toms bed, Allan looked around the room and smiled at how clearly Tom the room was. The bed wasn't properly made, the covers just pulled up in a haste, the bedside table covered in all different things, ranging from a brush, which obviously wasn't used very often, Toms dishevelled locks proving that, and Toms Secret Service badge. The door to the small joining bathroom had shirts hooked to the back of it, and another pair of pants with the suspenders hanging on them, as useful there as they were on.
Allan smile soon faded, and his eyes welled with tears of worry for the man whom he had considered to be like a son to him. Standing up to leave and return to his own room to try and do some more research, Allan was startled when he felt himself collide with something that wasn't there, and instantly knew what, or rather who, it was.
'Skinner! What are you doing hanging around outside the boys room? Are you trying to scare me to death?' Allan said, more out of the fright of the situation than the fact that Skinner was there at all.
'Sorry mate. I just heard you talking is all, and thought that maybe you could use a bit o'company?' Skinner said, his invisible eyes scanning the old hunters face for any sign that would answer the question for him.
Scratching his grey beard with his aged fingers, Allan slowly answered,
'I guess some company would be nice. What do you say about a drink?'
Patting the old hunter on the back, Skinner said in a sing song voice,
'How did you guess?'
Tom lifted his head and swiped across his eyes with his left, uninjured hand, wiping away all of the moisture that was there. Pushing himself up off the ground, Tom made his way over to the wall which had a small window in it, if you could even call it that. It was too high up the wall for Tom to be able to look out of properly, so he pulled the chair over which he had previously been tied to, and stood on it, allowing him to get a brief idea of where he was.
Looking out the window, Tom could still see the docks, and that fact alone made his heart warm. If he was near the docks then that means that he was still near the League and there was still hope for him yet. Glancing around, Tom also noticed that surrounding the building he was currently a captive of, where about five other factory type looking buildings.
Hearing faint footsteps, no doubt M or Charles making their way back to the room, Tom quickly jumped down from the chair and placed it back in the area of the room where he had removed it from. He then went back to the wall and sat down, his right arm wrapped around his bruised and bloodied torso, and his left shielding his right.
Hearing the sound of a key turning in the lock, Tom shot his head up and watched the door under his blonde bangs, and when he saw M step through the door, and Tom felt his heart beginning to thunder in his chest and beads of sweat form along his brow.
Sitting in the library of the Nautilus, Allan and Skinner both had a glass of whiskey in one hand. Allan had since removed his coat, which was now flung over the back of the back of one of the unused chairs. Skinner had put his glasses on, knowing that Allan would want to see where Skinner is.
'Remember that time when me and Tom were out on the town doing some…research…and we met this fine set of legs. She was all over Tom and the poor kid had no idea what to do…the gal was old enough to be his mother, but she still wanted him!' Skinner laughed as he recalled the event, tears streaming down his face as he laughed, although Allan couldn't see them.
Drinking his own shot, Allan turned to Skinner and pointed an accusatory finger at him as he said,
'Yes, and who had to cart your lazy bum back to bed. This bloody old fool!'
Allan kept his face serious, but he soon was laughing, the banter between the two men making him forget his worries for a little while. Sobering up, Allan sat up straight in his chair and ran his hand across his beard, his eyes looking off into the distance as if he was watching the memory, his eyes clouded over with pain and sadness.
Skinner, noticing the sudden change in behaviour, reached an invisible hand over and gently placed it on the old hunters arm, and said in a sympathetic tone of voice,
'He'll be fine, he's a smart kid. We'll find him'
Tom watched as M walked over to the table which still had the bloody pliers on them, and with his back to Tom he said,
'I think that I was a little easy on you. So I'm going to show you how it really feels to feel pain'
Turning around, M made his way over to Tom, noticing the slight look of alarm and fear in the young mans eyes, and smiled at it. He was glad that he was finally being given his chance to punish this child for all that he had done, and he intended to enjoy himself and make it a lengthy process.
Tom tried to steady his breathing, remembering everything which he had been taught in the American Secret Service, but falling short when his mind was screaming at him but it wasn't actually you then! How can they tell you not to be afraid when it's never happened to them!
M turned around and made his way over to Tom and grabbed his hair in his fist, yanking Tom up so that he was standing.
'You know, I never did care for Americans…and now I know why. If their anything like you!'
Tom glared at M, hating everything that he was saying to him and wishing that he could just punch him in his smug face. However, when M tugged at his hair even harder, Tom reasoned against such actions.
'Yeah, and I know why we hate the British, if there pompous, arrogant idiots like you' Tom said with a smirk as he watched the irritation that flashed across M's face.
Tom didn't see M as he reached his hand into the pocket of his long fur coat,
'And I have one way to sort out that mouth of yours…boy'
Pulling his hand back, M slipped the brass knuckles onto his left hand and smashed his fist across Toms mouth, a loud, dull crack sounding around the room at the impact and sending Tom to the floor, his left hand flying up to his jaw, which had blood pouring from it, the bone on the right side of his jaw cracked.
Gasping on the floor, Tom could hear M's words, although it was as if he was under water as his head was dizzy with the pain.
'This is far from over boy, and you remember that' M said before once again leaving, and locking the door behind him.
Tom lay on the floor, tears streaming down his face as he was unable to stop them. Rolling onto his back, his right arm across his chest, Tom felt his eyes rolling back, and just before the darkness consumed him, his last thoughts were,
'Please hurry Allan'
AN Well, I hope that you liked this chapter…Poor Tom! And I want to acknowledge that I am not copying Clezs story with the knuckle dusters, but I couldn't think of another object that would do that and be small.
Please review and let me know what you think.