Again, thanks for your feedback. It makes me wanna write much more.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Plus, Title of this chapter again from Eminem's Mockingbird.

Warnings: The usual: Blood, violence, torture.

Chapter Five: I'mma break that birdie's neck

Jim was dragged down a long corridor that was only dimly lit. His bare feet scratched over the concrete floor, and he could feel the pressure in his shoulders again. So he was rather thankful when they arrived in a room and he was thrown to the floor by the two guys that had carried him. The handcuffs were taken off; then he was pulled upright by his hair, which elicited a hiss from him, and pushed onto a chair. One of them held his arms behind his back while another tore away his clothes until he was naked. Then his wrists were fixed with zip ties behind his back, and one of the men tied a rope around his waist and fixed it to the back of the chair. This all happened in less than twenty seconds, Jim noticed; so, no amateurs. When they were done, they formed a circle around him.

One of them murmured, "This is the world's greatest criminal? He's barely 5' 7''. I imagined him being a bit more… intimidating."

Another one answered, "Me too, Joel. I think we all did. And he's Irish, can you imagine?"

Joel chuckled, "Oh Harry, this is gonna make it so much more fun. Don't you think, Matthew?"

Matthew, the tallest of the men, nodded "Yeah, definitely. You hear chicks dig Irish accents? I wonder how they feel about an Irish bloke screaming his lungs out."

The fourth one said, "Don't know what they find about Irish people though."

"Christian, nobody knows. I think those chicks must have a really low IQ. And this one isn't even good-looking. Guess he's still a virgin."

"Well, Joshua, there might be the opportunity to change that today. I call dibs."

Jim rolled his eyes, "Ladies, please. If we're having a tea party here, you might as well offer me some cookies. If not, please, can we start the interrogation? I know you're trying to make me feel bad about my heritage, but seriously, if been insulted all my life for being Irish, you really need to find something new if you want to even remotely hurt me. And for the record, I probably had more girls in my bed than the five of you combined. And I'm sure I had the way dirtier sex."

Joel ran a hand through his hair, "You're being quite cheeky for somebody who is naked and bound to a chair." He then let his eyes wander over Jim's body. "Oh, but I see you're no newbie to physical pain. You've got quite a lot of scars there. Where do they come from?"

Jim tilted his head, "I live."

Joel chuckled, "For now, yes. Now, I won't pretend I don't want to do this, cause, really, I do. But we need to follow protocol here, so I have to ask you: What can you tell me about that key code everybody is talking about?"

"I can tell you that if such a thing existed, you wouldn't understand it." Jim said.

Matthew, who stood behind Jim, grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, "You think you're smarter than us, don't you?"

Jim looked into Matthew's eyes, "Yes, this is exactly what I think."

Matthew pulled some more, causing a slight discomfort for Jim now. "I want to remind you that you are at our mercy right now. You probably shouldn't insult us."

"Or what? You're going to hurt me? You can't scare me with all your little threats, or that lovely little tape you played me. I want to speak to Mycroft Holmes."

"Mr Holmes doesn't deal with people like you; he has better things to do." Matthew pulled once more, but then let go of Jim's hair. "I think it's time we start."

Joel nodded, "Now, I'll ask you again. The Key Code?"

"Ah yeah. The Key Code." Jim nodded. "No."

"What 'no'?"

"No. Way." Jim held his eyes open when the first slap came. It was of an incredible power, and he would have surely tumbled off the chair if the rope hadn't held him.

Joel grinned, "Didn't expect that now, did you? The Key Code." When Jim shook his head, he slapped him again, the other cheek this time. "The Key Code."

Jim just turned his head again, "Nope."

Slap. Slap. Slap.

"The Key Code."

"Noho…." He could see that Joel's fingers now made a fist. Oh dear, this would hurt.

"The Key Code."

"Oh, will you stop this? It's boring." The fist came down on his face, hard. The pain shot through his entire body, and he couldn't help but moan.

"The Key Code."

Jim, conscious of the fact that his voice might sound rather slurry now, decided not to answer, but just gave Joel a vacant look.

Punch. Punch. Punch. Crack.

And Jim screamed out. The last blow had, unexpectedly, not been dealt to his face, but to his stomach, and he could feel a rib give way under the force.

Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch.

All dealt to his stomach. He fought against it, but oh lord, it hurt so much, he just had to scream. There were even tears stinging in his eyes now. He couldn't help it; pain did that to people. It was a human reaction, but a weakness nevertheless, and Jim hated to show weaknesses.

The laughing that had erupted among the men didn't make it any better. Matthew leaned forward and murmured, "Not so cocky anymore, are we now? The Key Code."

Jim shook his head again. He couldn't risk talking now; chances were his voice would break. So he just looked back at Joel, the same vacant look still on his face. Joel gave him a fake look of pity, and then brought his fist down on Jim's face again, this time deliberately hitting his nose. Jim expected it to break, but the crack he waited for did not come. There was blood though; he could feel it as it ran down his chin. Another punch, this time hitting his jaw, but again, nothing broke. He noticed though that there was blood in his mouth, too, now. The glint he had given Carter a while ago came back to his eyes as he raised his head to face Joel. There was only one way to get through this with a bit of honour. A cold knockout. So Jim took a breath and spat in Joel's face.

Joel arched away, running his hand over his face, looking at it, noticing the blood. "That, my friend, was a mistake."

Jim felt another punch connecting with his face- then there was nothing.

Mycroft had entered the room when Joel had paged him that Jim was out cold. There was no camera in this room; nobody needed video material of this. Even the tape they had played to Jim was the only recording of a session they had, and it was only for intimidating purposes.

Now Mycroft looked at the figure on the floor. They had loosened the rope that had bound Jim to the chair. Now he was laying there in the recovery position, his hands still tied behind his back, blood running from his nose and mouth. Mycroft looked at Kasey Sloan, the doctor that worked for them, "Anything important broken?"

Sloan shook his head, "A rib only. The nose is only slightly damaged, and the blood from his mouth is from his cheek. He'll recover soon."

Mycroft nodded his thanks to the doctor and turned to Joel, "Did you find out something?"

"Nothing about the code, Sir. But he told us he wants to speak to you. Maybe you…."

But Mycroft interrupted him, "That won't happen. I have things to… repair…. and I need to focus on them. I have faith in you that you will get all the information you need from him."

Matthew seemed doubtful, "He didn't cave in. And he was in pain; we all could see that. We might need a new strategy."

Mycroft looked down at Jim again, "The strategy is good. I believe in you guys. Give him something to wake up with."

"Yes, sir." Joel said. "And after that?"

"After that… we'll see." Mycroft turned on his heel and left the room.

And, for the record, I really love Irish men. These are just the thoughts of some really brutish people trying to hurt our poor Jim.

And, I am still open to any suggestions. If you want something special happen to Jim, send me a PM. I'll try and do it.