A Man of Honor.

Chapter 45: Rescue.

"All due respect to the senate, for which I have an awful lot of respect for, but I'm not going to answer another question. Because I'm not under arrest and I'm going to walk out of here." ~ Frank Costello during the Kefauver Hearings 1951.

I dreamed.

I lost all sense of time as the torture continued and I slipped in and out of consciousness again and again to the point were the difference sometimes felt like a blur. Sometimes I dreamed of the tortures continuing but other dreams were far more pleasant, dancing at the Moonstone or laying bed, naked and intimately pressed against a warm soft body. Sometimes it was Neo, other times it was Blake and there were even times it was both of them in a way I hadn't even dared to fantasize about until that moment.

They were so vivid, I swore that I could smell Blake's lavender perfume or taste Neo's expensive vanilla flavored lip gloss. They were some of the best dreams I ever had, so naturally they didn't last very long.

I was ripped violently away from the comfort of sleep with cold dirty water being splashed all over me. I spasmed violently as the sensation forced me into consciousness. Considering how it felt to be waterboarded I didn't enjoy the chosen method of rude awakening, it set me straight into a state of panic.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Dipshit greeted me, dropping the bucket down on the ground with a dark chuckle.

It took me a moment to recover from the panic attack that accompanied the wet awakening. I forced myself to take several long deep breaths to calm myself. It is difficult to explain how horrible you feel when you have to remind yourself that you are able to do something as simple as breathe.

"I was in the middle of a really fucking good dream!" I growled at him once I had composed myself. I shook my head trying to throw the water out of my drenched hair.

"Aww, sorry." Dipshit said to me with a laugh. "What was it about?"

"A couple of girls." I admitted to him with a forced grin. "I think your mother was there too."

"Ha, ha." Dipshit deadpanned unimpressed with my weak attempt at humor. "Well just one warning, we're tired of that aura of yours making things difficult for us. So fall asleep again and it's not going to be a bucket of water that wakes you up."

"You want me to stay awake, asshole?" I snarled. "Then shut the fuck up and bring me a caramel latte with an extra shot of expresso. And don't talk to me, you're boring as shit to listen to."

Dipshit backhanded me across the face. My aura, somewhat rejuvenated from my short rest, flared up and shielded me from the blow. Dipshit cursed and clutched his hand in pain.

I chuckled meekly at the tiny inconsequential victory I had achieved. It was important to appreciate the little things in a moment like this.

"You think you're tough shit do you?" Dipshit asked me with a growl, flexing his hand.

"No, but I do think you're a pussy." I said to him defiantly.

Dipshit laughed at me. "You weren't so fucking tough ealier, crying to your mama with your nipples rigged to a car battery."

I averted my gaze from him. He was right. It was easy to act strong willed while I was feeling fresh from a short rest, but earlier as I had been subjected to all manner of pain, I had felt my will weaken and break more than once.

I begged for mercy again and again and again. I cried for my mother, for the gods, for someone, anyone to save me.

No one came, but I didn't talk. At least no more than I already had before revealing that everything was being moved to the southeast. But after that I didn't squeal. I lied, I cried, I led them along spewing bullshit but I didn't fucking talk.