Bosco's initial struggle to consciousness was not accompanied by any physical sensation. One moment he knew nothing, the next he only knew confusion. His vision was dark and blurry, and he could not make sense of the images his eyes were sending to his brain. He shifted position and tried to sit up, and that was when the pain hit him full force. Piercing daggers of fire scorched their way down his hip and through the upper part of his leg. His hissed with the pain, and his vision began to blur and darken further. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he realized that he was about to lose consciousness again. He found himself thankful for that small escape from the pain and did not fight against it.
And then a surprisingly sharp pain in his side abruptly forced him into complete consciousness. It was only then that he realized that he was lying on his side in a dark puddle of dampness, and that a pair of legs was hovering above him. He had only a second to see one of the legs draw back, before he felt that same sharp pain hit his ribs again as his assailant kicked him brutally.
"It's time to wake up now, officer. I want to talk to you."
"Where the hell am I?" Bosco snarled hoarsely. And then he yelped uncontrollably as he was viciously kicked again. This time he thought he felt the snap of a rib breaking, and he groaned awkwardly as he tried to recover his breath.
"Shut up," his attacker said simply. "I said that I wanted to talk to you, and that means that if there are questions to ask, I'm the one to ask them. Understand?"
Bosco had cobwebs strung up fuzzily within his mind, and he wasn't sure if he should answer the maniac who seemed to have all the power at the moment. Unsure of the consequences, he decided to answer him.
"Yes, I understand."
"Good. Now listen to me closely. I need answers, and you're going to supply them. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand," Bosco repeated. He vaguely realized that the man who was holding him hostage was acting weirdly calm, and he wondered what sort of mess he had gotten into this time. And then he wished desperately for Faith's company; he suddenly did not want to be alone in this strange, dark place without her calming presence.
"I want my drugs back, officer. How do you think I should go about achieving that goal?"
"What?" Bosco asked confusedly. What was this idiot talking about?
"The heroin in that warehouse. I paid good money for it, and so it's mine. I want it back. Where do you suppose it is right now?"
"You want it back? Are you crazy or something?" Bosco's hot-headed nature allowed him to express a sharp barking laugh at the thought that this maniac actually believed he would be getting his drugs back after the bust.
But laughing was a mistake, which he realized only after he received another crushing kick to his side. He began to wheeze with the simple effort of breathing, and the pain in his side flared into a fire that was almost as strong as the one in his hip.
"I would suggest not laughing at me again. I won't stand for it. Do you understand?"
Bosco now fully understood the precarious situation he was in and so attempted to think of how Faith would handle herself in the same circumstances. Consequently, he bit back the biting remark he had been about to fire back to his tormenter and remained as calm as he could manage.
"I understand," he replied through gasping breaths.
"Good. I'm glad we finally seem to have come to a complete understanding. Now, where will my drugs be right now if I were to look for them?"
Bosco considered the question for a moment, but realized he didn't know the answer since it depended on the amount of time that had expired while he was unconscious.
"How long have I been out of it?" he asked. "I need to know in order to answer your question," he hastily added.
His captor sighed impatiently, and Bosco realized that this was the first sign of emotion that he had observed from the man.
"About 15 minutes," the man said reluctantly.
Fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes! That was good, since it meant that they probably weren't too far from the initial crime scene. Maybe Faith would find him before he bled to death in the presence of this idiot. Bosco's thoughts became hopeful for the first time, and his heart began to hammer with that hope. But he forced himself to calm down, because his breathing was becoming difficult the faster his heart raced. Fireworks of light were beginning to explode in his vision.
"Come on, come on," the shooter said as he prodded Bosco with his foot. "Where's my heroin?"
"It's probably still in the warehouse," Bosco said truthfully.
"Good. And your partner. That woman. Do you think she'll follow us even after I told her not to?"
"What?" Bosco panted with confusion. What was this guy thinking about now?
"Just answer the question. Will she look for you?"
Bosco thought about it for a second. Although he desperately wished she were with him, he wanted even more to be able to answer negatively to the question forced upon him. Somehow Bosco didn't think that this maniac would hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way, and he did not want Faith to be caught in the crossfire of a crazy man's delusions. Faith had a family, kids. But an excruciating kick to his hip stopped any further thought, and Bosco found himself divulging the truth in a dull whisper.
"Yes."
"She'll follow us then. That's very good, officer. Now take a little rest."
And then the fireworks returned with a penetrating pain in his head, and he knew nothing.
And then a surprisingly sharp pain in his side abruptly forced him into complete consciousness. It was only then that he realized that he was lying on his side in a dark puddle of dampness, and that a pair of legs was hovering above him. He had only a second to see one of the legs draw back, before he felt that same sharp pain hit his ribs again as his assailant kicked him brutally.
"It's time to wake up now, officer. I want to talk to you."
"Where the hell am I?" Bosco snarled hoarsely. And then he yelped uncontrollably as he was viciously kicked again. This time he thought he felt the snap of a rib breaking, and he groaned awkwardly as he tried to recover his breath.
"Shut up," his attacker said simply. "I said that I wanted to talk to you, and that means that if there are questions to ask, I'm the one to ask them. Understand?"
Bosco had cobwebs strung up fuzzily within his mind, and he wasn't sure if he should answer the maniac who seemed to have all the power at the moment. Unsure of the consequences, he decided to answer him.
"Yes, I understand."
"Good. Now listen to me closely. I need answers, and you're going to supply them. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand," Bosco repeated. He vaguely realized that the man who was holding him hostage was acting weirdly calm, and he wondered what sort of mess he had gotten into this time. And then he wished desperately for Faith's company; he suddenly did not want to be alone in this strange, dark place without her calming presence.
"I want my drugs back, officer. How do you think I should go about achieving that goal?"
"What?" Bosco asked confusedly. What was this idiot talking about?
"The heroin in that warehouse. I paid good money for it, and so it's mine. I want it back. Where do you suppose it is right now?"
"You want it back? Are you crazy or something?" Bosco's hot-headed nature allowed him to express a sharp barking laugh at the thought that this maniac actually believed he would be getting his drugs back after the bust.
But laughing was a mistake, which he realized only after he received another crushing kick to his side. He began to wheeze with the simple effort of breathing, and the pain in his side flared into a fire that was almost as strong as the one in his hip.
"I would suggest not laughing at me again. I won't stand for it. Do you understand?"
Bosco now fully understood the precarious situation he was in and so attempted to think of how Faith would handle herself in the same circumstances. Consequently, he bit back the biting remark he had been about to fire back to his tormenter and remained as calm as he could manage.
"I understand," he replied through gasping breaths.
"Good. I'm glad we finally seem to have come to a complete understanding. Now, where will my drugs be right now if I were to look for them?"
Bosco considered the question for a moment, but realized he didn't know the answer since it depended on the amount of time that had expired while he was unconscious.
"How long have I been out of it?" he asked. "I need to know in order to answer your question," he hastily added.
His captor sighed impatiently, and Bosco realized that this was the first sign of emotion that he had observed from the man.
"About 15 minutes," the man said reluctantly.
Fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes! That was good, since it meant that they probably weren't too far from the initial crime scene. Maybe Faith would find him before he bled to death in the presence of this idiot. Bosco's thoughts became hopeful for the first time, and his heart began to hammer with that hope. But he forced himself to calm down, because his breathing was becoming difficult the faster his heart raced. Fireworks of light were beginning to explode in his vision.
"Come on, come on," the shooter said as he prodded Bosco with his foot. "Where's my heroin?"
"It's probably still in the warehouse," Bosco said truthfully.
"Good. And your partner. That woman. Do you think she'll follow us even after I told her not to?"
"What?" Bosco panted with confusion. What was this guy thinking about now?
"Just answer the question. Will she look for you?"
Bosco thought about it for a second. Although he desperately wished she were with him, he wanted even more to be able to answer negatively to the question forced upon him. Somehow Bosco didn't think that this maniac would hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way, and he did not want Faith to be caught in the crossfire of a crazy man's delusions. Faith had a family, kids. But an excruciating kick to his hip stopped any further thought, and Bosco found himself divulging the truth in a dull whisper.
"Yes."
"She'll follow us then. That's very good, officer. Now take a little rest."
And then the fireworks returned with a penetrating pain in his head, and he knew nothing.