Six Years Ago

"I'm not telling you shit." The man spat, undaunted by Michael's unyielding stare, by Nysa's cool, piercing one where she stood next to him.

Even John who stood in the corner, who could bash his head open against the cement wall if he wanted didn't seem to scare him, maybe because he could sense that despite his size and intimidating appearance he never actually would. Nor did Vivienne who'd had no problem getting rough while bringing him in cause him any distress, aside from the discomfort of his bruised ribs. The only time he looked nervous was when he met her stare, because while all her team looked menacing they'd had him for an hour now and no real damage had been done to him.

But he could tell that damage was exactly what Tess wanted.

The light that everyone had always said was so intrinsic to her, that had kept her going after her parent's death, after every horrible thing she had endured, when she'd realized that Lydia was gone too it had just… shut off. Like a switch had flipped. And all that darkness she'd dedicated herself to fighting hadn't just enveloped her, it had sunk into her, so deep it finally became a part of her. Made her realize that it always had been, it was now just free from the restraints she'd put on it. On herself. And now the whole world was so black it was a miracle she hadn't walked off a cliff but then it wasn't her sight that was the problem. It was everything she was seeing.

All the bad and bloody systems that seemed broken but were actually working exactly as they'd been intended to, all the people who had no problem benefiting off those systems no matter who they trampled over in the process. Like this fuckface. He wasn't important, had no real power to make things better, or worse, except that he was frustrating her efforts to find the man she was looking for. Marko Franic. One of the nine men who had bought the information a still mysterious tenth had sold. Her information. The information that had led to another of those men breaking into her aunt's brownstone looking for her, to putting a bullet in the back of her head when she hadn't given him what he wanted.

"I don't have to tell you shit."

No, he didn't. Just like Lydia hadn't.

She was a bitch, just like you, and she got what was coming to her.

Just like you will.

But actions had consequences.

And she was tired of them always landing on the people who didn't deserve them.

"You can write it down then." Before anyone could move Tess stalked up to him, jabbed two fingers into the hollow of his throat to make him choke then gripped his jaw, reached into his mouth and pulled out his tongue.

And then she took out her knife and started to cut it out.

A screaming but still distant part of her knew she should be horrified by her actions, by the ease with which she took them but she wasn't; she wanted to hurt him. Wanted everyone who'd called her kindness weakness to beg for the mercy they'd laughed at. How easy it was to get to a place she had honestly never thought she would. Never thought she could. People should really stop underestimating her.

Herself included.

She only stopped when it felt like a truck rammed into her side but even John's horrified anger didn't touch her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We don't need him to speak to give us what we want."

Stunned silence met her words, most notably from that man who seemed much more inclined to answer their questions now, crying as he shoved his mangled tongue back in his mouth but Michael quickly cut off her view of him. "That isn't the way we do things."

"Why? What has our way accomplished? We've spent a decade running around the world, cleaning up the messes of men like him and then just waiting for the next ones to take their place."

"And you think you can do better?" Nysa asked and the lack of judgement in her voice caught her attention, making her think about her answer instead of blurting out the first thing that came to her mind.

Because she did. Tess knew she could change those systems, make the people who ran them accountable, but quiet as they were, every moral she had was telling her she would be no better if she did so using their methods. She had to make a choice right now on how she wanted to fight this war.

And she had to be ready to accept the consequences.