A/N: this is the end of the scene that I wrote and did not finish. I was inspired to write it thanks to a reviewer. You know who you are! Thanks a lot! Hope y'all enjoy it and don't forget to review!

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He strode quickly to the little house, and ascended the steps of the porch with practiced grace. He disregarded the men standing, at gun point by his men, off to the side in the yard. He also ignored the fact that Wilkins was still following close behind him. He flung the door wide open and barged right in. Subtly thy name was not Tavington. He paused, mid-step, for half a second and looked around. His lip curled up in a disdainful sneer at the quaint, yet messy house. It looked as bad as the outside to him, in need of much care and repair. His boots made a dull thud sounds on the wooden floor as he walked across the front room not bothering to close the door behind him.

He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, glancing around quickly. Being in the Dragoons had taught him many things, and one of them was always to be cautious. He stood there a long moment, framed against the sunlight from the open front door. He twiddled a sprig of purple flowers idly about in his fingers. He would have looked almost benevolent as he had out in the fields had not been for the lingering sneer still on his face. He was completely nonplussed by the bloody body draped on the table. His eyes glanced down to watch the blood dripping from the man's lifeless fingers in morbid fascination. He snapped his gaze up to meet Captain Bordon's, as he turned quickly from the window he had been looking out of by the fire place. Clearly, the Captain was surprised and a bit fearfully to see him.

   "Well?" Tavington asked, fingering the petals of the flowers.

Captain Bordon moved away from the window and over to the table the dead man was currently occupying. "I'm sorry, sir," he lifted up the head of the dead man and let it drop with distaste. "He died."

   As if that were not obvious to me already, Tavington thought with a sigh as he gave Bordon a condescending look. Bordon swallowed, praying Tavington would not give him another verbal beating about being a thick headed dolt. Tavington did not feel like taking the time to do so at the moment. Bordon already knew what he thought of him. Tavington sighed, softly, and shook his head slightly as he began to walk around the table. He tossed the flowers to the floor in his anger and irritation, forgetting about them before they hit the ground. The flowers lay crumbled on the floor, their beautiful petals scattered. Tavington was now completely back to being the "Butcher." The flowers seemed to be the last tie between that man and the quieter, less harsh man Wilkins had seen in the fields. Wilkins glanced down at the flowers as he stepped into the room behind Tavington.

The Colonel could easily sense Wilkins uneasy. Tavington did not really like Wilkins much because he was a colonial and he did not trust the man's intentions either. Wilkins seemed not the type to want to get caught up in a war no matter how brave and ambitious he thought he was. Tavington did not quite understand what had made Wilkins join the British side. He shrugged the thought off. Well, here was a perfect opportunity to see how loyal he was and how well he could take seeing his fellow colonials being brutalized.

He walked over to the table, glancing over at Bordon. Bordon's eyes betrayed his fear and his expression was one of anxiety and uncertainty. He seemed to become even more ill at ease from the look in his Tavington's eyes. He swallowed hard as Tavington glared at him, challenging his courage. Tavington enjoyed seeing his subordinate fidget nervously because of him. Bordon had been with him long enough to know that Tavington had something cruel in mind. He did not wish to find out what.

A grim smile touched Tavington's lips, as he grabbed the side of the table. "Bring me the other one!" he ordered, as heaved the table up in a sharp motion. The dead man's body flipped off the table and landed with a satisfying thunk in the floor. The other rebel would hopefully give them the information this one had refused not to. He let go of the table, letting it drop back to the ground with a brief slam.

   One less colonial scum to worry about, one more small step in gaining his glory and piece of land, he thought with pleasure.

He turned away from the table and shot Wilkins a piercing look. He wanted to see if what he had done had upset the younger man. Wilkins stood up a little straighter, as if to show Tavington he was not at all upset. Tavington was no fool; he could see the shock lurking behind that carefully composed expression. Good. Fear made a man respect his betters. Wilkins could be taught.

The other rebel was dragged into the room, held between two of his officers. He did not turn to look at the man until he had given Wilkins one more long hard stare. He heard the heavy thud and jangle of coins spilling over the table and turned to look at them. It was a rather large amount of gold. No rebel ever had this much gold unless it was ill gotten. A sneer began to grow on his handsome face once more as he took in the rebel's dirty, worn clothes and grim covered face. A pitiful excuse for a human being, such men were disgraceful.

   "This one's a rebel and thief," Bordon growled in a deep tone, tossing several more coins across the table. Bordon spoke with obvious disdain. He could not stand robbers. He found them to be the most detestable, low life type of scum alive. Tavington was inclined to agree with him. If you could not even make honest money what was the point of living?

            Tavington looked back at the rebel. The rebel glared back at him, refusing to show any fear. Well, Tavington had to give him that much. At least the man had some bravado.

               "I'm not a thief!" the man snapped, and held his head up high with pride. "I'm a patriot."

            Tavington smirked at him. Men and their senseless pride, it always ended up to be the death of them. Cornwallis' pride would get him in the end as well. Tavington just hoped he would be there when that day came. He would laugh right in the pompous General's face.

               "I wonder how patriotic you'd be if I gave you the chance to walk out of here alive," as he spoke he walked around the table once more, picking up a gold coin. He indicated the rest of the satchel of gold on the table still stained with his friend's blood. Hopefully this fool was stupid enough to buy it. He, of course, would never give this scum money that rightfully belonged to England.

               "All you have to do is tell me where to find Benjamin Martin and his rabble," he finished, cocking one eyebrow up at the rebel and giving him an if-you-know-what-was-good-for-you-you'll-listen-to-me look. The rebel looked at him in surprise as though sizing him to see how sincere he was being then began to smile. A little at first, then it broadened. Good, he was buying his bluff. The rebel looked down at the coins with a greed look in his eyes, then over to Bordon, who smiled back clearly thinking the rebel was taking the bait. Tavington was fool enough to believe the man would as well. He shot Bordon a knowing smirk as the rebel turned back to him. He had missed the glitter of steel that had flashed in the man's eyes. The rebel looked at him, nodding his head as though to agree. Tavington's lips actually lifted up into a humorless smile. He had the scum right where he wanted him. He thought this to soon.

            Suddenly the look of greed and consent vanished from the rebel's face, and total disgust replaced. Tavington was a little taken aback by the hatred he saw burning in those hard eyes. He had not met such stubbornness in a long time. He was not quick enough to react to the quick change of character. A second later, before he could avoid it or see it coming, the rebel spit in his face and it splattered across his face in a nasty splash. He shut his eyes and screwed his face up in disgust. He was rarely taken by surprise anymore. Yes, the man was brave but an idiot. He had played Tavington extremely well. Instead of him getting the satisfaction it had been the rebel. This one had been quite a good actor. Tavington was outraged with himself for falling for the man's act. He had let himself be taken in because of his own eagerness. He had been to quick to believe this man would buy his bluff. That little sojourn in the fields had softened him to much. He would not let that happen again. He did not enjoy being out smarted or played with. The rebel would pain dearly for that.

               "Do your worst," the man growled in a low voice.

            Tavington could not see his face as he turned to wipe the spittle from his face. He heard Bordon jump forward and slam the rebel's head into the table with a bang. He hoped that had hurt the vile git somewhat. Tavington turned back to the rebel with a spiteful sneer.

               "I always do," He replied, with a cruel smirk. The rebel's torture would be much worse than his friend's had been. This man had no idea what his worst was. No idea.

            Oh, he would take great pleasure in breaking this one before he let him die. No man crossed him and lived to tell the tale. The man would regret the idiocy with which he had behaved. He would die wishing he'd chosen the easy way out. Tavington would make sure of all this. This was going to be quite a satisfying experience. He would never underestimate another rebel again. Yes, this rebel had taught him a lesson. Brutality worked best, people took advantage of one's good nature or blind intentions. There was no room in war for being a gentleman. It would get him no where. He wouldn't put anything past them anymore. They were smarter then he had given them credit for. Luckily the error of his thinking had been rectified before it something much worse had happened. Otherwise, Tavington might have had a worse situation on his hands later.

               "You've taught me a valuable lesson, friend," Tavington smiled down at the man. "You should be proud about that. You most likely just sealed more of your friends' deaths. Now let me teach you a little lesson."

            He saw that obstinate look waver for just a moment on the rebel's face. Yes, this would be most satisfying.

Finis!! For real this time. ;)