Trigger warning: Some homophobic comments up ahead. If you do not like those, feel free to skip this chapter. You won't miss out on any plot, just some Lassiter whump

Chapter 10: The Pain Cuts Deep

The pain was the first thing that Lassiter was aware of when he started to stir. Burning sensations flared all the way up and down his leg, his side ached with every breath he took, and his head felt like there was a drum concert going on and everyone was demanding an encore. He wanted to bring his hand up to rub his temples in an attempt to calm the angry headache, but stopped when his arm wouldn't budge. Panic ran out through his body and he shot his eyes open, which he later regretted due to the sudden light creating a second drum show right next door.

Once his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, he glanced down to see why he was immobile. His heart sank at the sight of his wrists and ankles tied down to an old wooden chair. Instincts kicking in, he tugged forcefully at the ropes holding his limbs down. Unfortunately for him, whoever tied these knots knew exactly what they were doing and he wasn't getting out anytime soon. He didn't stop his attempt to break free until the skin on his wrists stung from being rubbed raw.

Sighing in defeat, he forced himself to stop moving to take in his new surroundings. He had been moved from the room he was in earlier. This room was much bigger, and the ceiling was higher. It was probably the main room of the warehouse. Directly in front of him was a set of large double doors, most likely leading to the outside world. My way out of here, he told himself as he took in the rest of the warehouse.

Over to his right was a smaller door, cracked open just slightly. He could see light coming from inside, and he noticed shadows interrupting the light beams every once in awhile. He wasn't alone. Lassiter strained his head to lean closer to the room to try and pick up on any conversation. The room was too far away, and people were talking over each other so it was hard to make any full sentences out.

"...do with him?.."

"...make his life hell…"

"...deserves punishment for…"

"...ways disgust me…"

"...could just end him…"

"...make it last…"

As if on cue, Lassiter dropped his to his chest in attempt to make it look like he was still unconscious when the door was thrown open. He feared his acting was unconvincing when the chatter stopped and the room fell silent again.

Steps echoed throughout the empty building and Lassiter fought hard to keep his breathing at a steady rate. He listened carefully as what sounded like two men, at the very least, made their way to where he was bound to the chair. Almost as soon as the steps had started the quickly died down.

"Wake him up," one of the unknown assailants spoke out loudly against the dead silence of the warehouse and Lassiter nearly jumped at the suddenness of the command. After a few moments of shuffling around the room went silent once again. He wanted so badly to open his eyes just a little to see how many people he was dealing with, but he kept those urges at bay as he continued to listen for anymore sounds.

He picked up the sound of someone shuffling behind him, almost as if they were struggling. Accompanied with the shuffling was what sounded like something heavy being dragged across the concrete floor. He focused on the sounds and was able to make out that it was in fact two people seemingly attempting to lift something heavy.

Suddenly he was pulled out of his focus as water was drenched over the top of his head. He gasped against the icy liquid that now covered him, soaking into his clothes. He couldn't control the slight shiver that made itself present as he looked up at the people surrounding him.

His rough guess of at least two people was way off from the five men standing in front of him. They all stood there staring him down with their arms crossed against their chest.

"Well, well, well. I have to say I am very surprised to see you in this position, Detective Lassiter."

Lassiter strained his head to see behind him, where the familiar voice was coming from. As soon as the voice made their presence known, Lassiter scowled. The leader of the Cinco Reyes, none other than Santiago Moreno.

He wasn't aware he'd said the name of the man standing now to the side of him until the man acknowledged him. "Good job, detective. I see you've done your research."

"It doesn't take very much to know what a bastard you are, Moreno," Lassiter replied through clenched teeth, not to seem angry, but in an attempt to hide his shivering.

Moreno frowned at the detective's tone of voice, before he turned to one of the other men standing guard to grab something. "Is that how you want to refer to the person keeping you hostage? To the person with all the power?" He finally turned back to face Lassiter, though he kept his hands behind his back. "Not to mention, the person with the control of what happens to you?" It was after that vague statement when Moreno finally pulled his hands out from behind his back to reveal what he was holding.

Lassiter was not usually one to flinch at the sight of knives, speaking of which, he had a rather impressive collection at home, though he always prefered the use of guns over knives. Generally easier and cleaner, but he didn't want to bring guns into play during this situation.

That being said, Lassiter couldn't help the involuntary flinch when Moreno revealed the rather large pocket knife. Moreno chuckled slightly at the reaction the head detective gave. The taller, heavily tattooed man inched his way closer to Lassiter, twirling the knife in his hand. "I've always thought you, of all people, would find a nice lady and settle down." Lassiter gulped in fear of where this statement was leading, especially given the very sharp knife present in his grip. "But to hear you've taken up that disgusting lifestyle with another man, now that is surprising."

At this point, Moreno was just inches from Lassiter, contemplating what to do with the knife in his possession. Lassiter focused his attention away from the metal object that was getting closer and closer to his water soaked clothes. Almost as if a light switch was flipped, Moreno's demeanor changed. He furrowed his brows in anger and pressed the knife under Lassiter's chin.

Lassiter sucked in a breath and widened his eyes at the sudden movement and pressure of the knife against his throat. "I'm not going to kill you," Moreno said simply without moving the knife. The knife against my throat says otherwise. "I want to make this last as long as possible." Lassiter gulped, and Moreno smirked.

With one swift flick the knife was pulled away from his neck, only to push across his arm, leaving a trail of blood along his now ripped shirt. Lassiter clenched his teeth and held his breath to mask any sounds from leaving his body.

Unsatisfied with the detective's reaction, Moreno turned to one of his men, nodding his head slightly. Whatever the head nod meant, the other man understood and Lassiter's fear spiked as the man walked behind him, out of his view.

Suddenly the man, who Lassiter couldn't see, grabbed a fistful of his graying hair and rugged backwards, causing Lassiter to now look at the ceiling. Though he wasn't able to watch the ceiling for long, as some thin piece of fabric was placed over his eyes, blocking his vision.

The fabric was tied around the back of his head, tightly at that, and the unknown man released his grip on his hair, letting Lassiter's head fall back to his chest. His eyes glanced around in an attempt to see anything, but he was only able to see the light at the top and bottom of his fake shift blindfold.

"Perfect," Moreno muttered quietly to himself and Lassiter was losing track of his surroundings. The blindfold eliminated his vision, which he was dependent on, and that made the situation even worse.

Lassiter felt chills run throughout his body at the sensation of the knife being pressed lightly against his chest, gliding down the path of the buttons. He let out a breath of relief when the pressure of the knife was pulled away momentarily, although it was only pulled away to free Moreno's hands, allowing him to undo the buttons on Lassiter's shirt.

Most of the buttons remained intact, though a couple had popped right off and rolled away across the concrete floor. Now that Lassiter's bare chest was revealed, he was aware of the cooler air that raised goosebumps on his skin.

"Are you aware of the penalty that used to be in place for men who were found guilty of sleeping with another man, Detective?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes at the question, though he wasn't sure how well the fabric his the action. Of course he was aware. He'd done his research enough to know that the main punishment was death. But he was also aware that the times have changed and that punishment was quickly thrown out the window to make room for equal rights.

Apparently Moreno wasn't satisfied with Lassiter's lack of answer, as suggested by the fist that made itself known his lower abdomen. Any breath that was left inside of him made its exit quickly and Lassiter doubled over-more like leaned forward, thanks to the tight restraints-in an attempt to regain the lost breath.

He pulled his head back in a flinch as Moreno placed his hand under his chin to bring him back into the conversation. "As you can see, I expect and answer when I ask a question. Any silence will result in more pain. Pick your battles wisely," Moreno explained calmly for Lassiter. "Do you understand?"

A small mumble passed Lassiter's lips as he nodded his head up and down just slightly to answer Moreno. When the knife was pressed against his chest, he wasn't sure if Moreno was displeased with his mumbled response or if it was just part of his plan. "Let's try that again, shall we? Do you understand?" Moreno was more forceful with his words this time, the knife pressing harder into his skin with every word.

Lassiter's response was the same as earlier. A simple nod with a quiet mumble. Clearly this angered Moreno as the knife broke through the skin and found its way down the length of his chest. It took all of Lassiter's self control to keep from yelling out in pain. He clenched his teeth and threw his head back, straining his neck. He couldn't fight the small yelp that made itself heard when the knife was lifted, only to be placed down again and cut in the opposite direction.

The knife wasn't pulled away for good until who knows how much later. All Lassiter was aware of was the pain radiating from his abdomen. The cuts that were made varied in length and depth, meaning they all varied in amounts of pain. The worst of all was the last cut made, as Moreno felt the need to cut slowly and as deeply as possible without causing any major damage. If his plan was to get any kind of reaction from the detective, he failed due to the fact that Lassiter was on the verge of passing out. His chest raised with every breath, and every breath stretched the wounds, causing him to hiss in pain. His chin rested on his upper chest, head limp from fighting to control the situation.

By the time he finally gained the strength, and courage, to open his eyes, the blindfold had been removed. Avoiding looking to where the damage would be, he glanced to his side where he noticed the fabric crumbled by the foot of the chair.

After staring at the fabric on the ground for what felt like hours, He faced forward only to notice that the men that were once surrounding him were gone. The sudden emptiness in the room sparked his curiosity on how long he'd been fighting unconsciousness for.

He pushed all thoughts on the other men aside and finally talked some sense into himself to just look down. When he finally gave in and looked down, his breath hitched at the sight. What he expected to see sprawled across his lower abdomen was a series of cuts in a random fashion, intersecting each other at some points. What he actually saw was a word. A fully legible, not to mention painful, word.

It was at this point that he let himself go, dropping his chin back to his chest, letting his eyes roll back into his head. He was tired of fighting against his dire need of sleep, and when he was unconscious, he wasn't aware of the pain or anything else going on around him. And hey, seeing black nothingness was better than seeing the word "HOMO" cut into his skin, staring back at him, taunting him.