Don't Make it Personal AA/TW

Efficacious

CHAPTER 7 - Efficacious

—-Location: Safe house. Paris, France.—Date: August 21st — Time: 0200 hrs

"So are you finally going to tell us what's going on in that tiny brain of yours? Or are we going to have to keep beating you, because honestly, my hands are getting a little tired." Annika growled as she struck the battered man across the face for the hundredth time.

Annika and Stiles' had been trying to get Micheal to talk for hours now. Trying to whittle him down into submission. The older man tied to a nimble wooden chair with electric wires.

His head hung sadly, avoiding the tormented gaze of his captors. Even with the bonus of fast healing, his face was unrecognizable, its blood intruding every nook and cranny in the small apartment. Painting the room's white walls an exuberant red.

"Like I told you before, I don't know anything!" Micheal grunted between pained breaths.

They were killing him.

"Let's try this one more time...." Stiles wiped his bloody hands down with a dish towel. He shouldn't be enjoying this so much. His new lifestyle was a complete 180, antithetical to Scott's no killing rule in every way. Scott would hate him now. Loathe the man Stiles had become.

"We know you and your little werewolf friends haven't been getting together to sing Kumbaya and roast weenies by a fire. So, what's your plan? Create a Super-terrorist group, pun intended by the way, to take over the world? That's not very kosher of you." Stiles walked closer to Micheal, taking a small blade from his pocket and juggling it between his fingers.

Micheal wearily eyed the knife. He'd already been stabbed enough. "I'm an omega... I'm not in a pack.."

"For someone who claims they're not in a pack, you've sure been hanging out with a lot of Alphas. What's it going to take for you to talk huh? Money? Drugs? Maybe a good old fashion crisp high five? All of that can be arranged..."

"You think you're so funny, hey? T'es une raclure de bidet." Micheal earned a swift punch in the gut via a very pissed off Stiles for that comment.

"Mitch stop playing with the guy." Annika purred putting her hands on her knees to stare directly into Micheal's eyes. "Look. We've been pretty nice to you so far. If you cooperate now, we might be able to offer you immunity, if you don't well..... I think the stark black of a trash bag is a great colour on you. Don't you think so, Mitch?"

"Hm? Oh ya definitely." Stiles replied, plunging the knife into the beta's leg. Micheal's screams echoed throughout the building before crescendoing off into a quiet sob. He'll talk. Eventually....

—-Location: Safe house. Paris, France.—Date: Aug 21st — Time: 0500 hrs—-

it's 5 am by the time Micheal breaks. The sun beginning to rise and the birds excitingly chirping on the nearby trees. Stiles was surprised the werewolf lasted this long. Not many people make it past the 4th missing finger...

Micheal told them everything. Well, everything the man knew, which in the grand scheme of things, wasn't a lot.

"Ok. So we know that there's a group of werewolves in France trying to make an army to what? Overthrow the government? And why are they kidnapping Alpha's from around the world? None of this makes any sense.." Annika drawled from her spot in the apartment's kitchen. She had lazily pushed herself up and onto it's counters, swinging her legs back and forth almost in synchronicity.

"No you're right. It doesn't. Scott would never willingly participate..." Stiles observed pacing back and forth from the fridge to the window.

Stiles had asked Micheal about his old pack. It took a bit of persuasion, but the omega finally admitted that he was there the night the True Alpha was grabbed. They took Scott from a parking lot, drugged him, then proceeded to load the poor guy into a plane and off to France. Scott didn't stand a chance. Stiles hoped he was okay. That whoever had him wasn't causing the veterinarian too much harm.

Annika shifted her weight against the granite counter before solemnly speaking. "Maybe we should meet up with your old pack?" She's 'met' with a particularly fierce glare from Stiles in return. "What!? Don't look at me like that, someone had to say it. They may be able to help us."

"No i'm not getting them involved and that's final."

Annika knows that voice. No matter how hard she tried, he wouldn't budge. "Seesh something crawled up your ass and died there....Whatever. Look, Micheal gave us a few locations to scout. How about we get some rest and check them out tonight?"

"Fine."

"What are we going to do about him?" Annika muttered, looking over at the half dead man in the living room.

Stiles stared at Micheal, drinking in the beta's features. If they let him go, he'll run right back to the cell, ultimately blowing Stiles' and Annika's cover. He hated the man for what he did to Scott. His friend didn't deserve this.

The operation was a black op meaning that, outside the CIA's tight nit circle of confidants, this mission didn't exist. If the government caught on before Stiles eliminated the threat, Scott may be arrested for treason. If the Alpha is still alive that is.

Stiles hands moved without thought, reaching for the gun in his waistband. The cool metal catching on the back of his jeans as he places the hardware firmly in his right hand.

He walked towards Micheal. His lips pressed into an uncomplimentary line.

The gun raises.

Stiles aims directly at the omega's head.

"Woah.. what are you doing. You said that if I talked i'd have immunity... You can't do this... Please.. please don't... I don't want to-"

BANG

Stiles watched as the life drained from Micheal's eyes. Watched his body go limp in the frail wooden chair. Stiles felt no remorse for his execution. The man didn't deserve to live. Not for what he'd done to Scott. His death brings Stiles pleasure. A pure unadulterated second of twisted happiness in a sea of shame.

"Little overboard don't you think, Mitch?"

"No." Stiles smiled. "Not at all."