✩₊˚.⋆𓍊𓋼𝕎𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜𓋼𓍊⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆𓍊I failed. Again.𓍊⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆𓍊𓋼𓍊⋆⁺₊✧

"I'll ask you one more time." A low voice sneered. "Where are they?" The person stopped in front of Wilbur, slamming his hands down on the table hard enough to make the brunet flinch.

"I already told you, I don't know anything! I don't even know who yo—" He was abruptly cut off as a calloused hand collided with his cheek, making him cry out and shrink back. Wilbur held onto the side of his face with trembling hands, his eyes widening with fear and agony. Although...this wouldn't be the worst pain that he would be receiving.

"If you would tell us where the rest of your little gang members are, then we'd be more gracious to you." He leaned close to Wilbur's face, making him nearly gag from the mix of alcohol and weed that he could smell.

"But I'm not part of any gang! I don't know what you're talking about!" He pleaded.

"Liar!" The male snapped, shoving him by his shoulders. Time felt like it had slowed down as his chair tipped backwards, making him fall back onto the ground with it. The back of his head hit the cold concrete with a sickening thud.

Every part of his body flinched from the impact, pain crawling through all of his lumps as the world became fuzzy and unrealistic to him. Wilbur could hardly feel the warm trickle of crimson spread out onto the floor underneath his head.

Then he was kicked in the ribs, brutally knocking the wind out of his lungs. He couldn't bring himself to fight back, only managing to cry out and roll onto his side, clutching his ribs as the agony dug deep into his body with razor-like claws.

"Pathetic..." A second voice snapped, this time it was female. "I wouldn't even call that thing and man." Cold laughter echoed around the room, making Wilbur curl up tighter as he whimpered in pain. A seemingly clawed hand grabbed onto his curls and jerked his head out of his arms. He was met with the sharp gaze of a business-looking woman; her blonde hair falling neatly around her shoulders, and a cold green-eyed gaze that made a shiver shoot down his spine double-quick.

"What are you going to do with him?" The male asked, making Wilbur's gaze turn to him. He hadn't noticed it before, but the man had a nasty scar from his eyebrow to his chin. He was laughably short, but intimidating as hell.

"What do you think I'm going to do with him, Q?" The woman scoffed. "You have the final call, boss." She answered simply, shoving Wilbur's head back onto the ground before standing back up.

"Get answers from him, and if you don't..." Wilbur and the man—Q or boss?—met eyes for a brief moment. Then he grinned. "Then kill him."

"Wait! Please!" Wilbur begged as the woman jerked him off of the ground by his arm, then grabbed onto his hair once more, practically dragging him out of the room.

The brunet let out a yelp of pain and surprise as the blonde threw him onto the unforgiving concrete. The room smelled of rot and something metallic. And there were plenty of rust coloured stains that acted as décor. Wilbur cautiously pushed himself to sit up, leaning back against the wall as he tentatively touched the back of his head. When he pulled his hand back, his fingers were coated in crimson. The sight made him nauseous.

He felt the world tilt far too quickly around him again, making him immediately turn to the side and vomit up nothing but stomach bile. He hadn't eaten anything in the past...how long had he been here?

He didn't get much of a grace period before the woman had produced a knife from somewhere and crouched down in front of him, placing the knife under his chin and forcing him to lift his head. "It'd be so much easier for you if you would just tell us where the rest of the Syndicate resides." She said in a fake sweet tone.

Wilbur suddenly had the urge to spit in her face, call her some kind of nasty name, and try to get out. But Wilbur was no hero, he was a coward. Even his family had told him that once. Or perhaps it was just his older brother? Why weren't they coming to save him? He was going to die here.

I can't die like this!

The brunet quickly grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the knife and shoved it away, kicking out multiple times until he had managed to shove her away. Wilbur scrambled to his feet, grasping the door handle and trying to open it. But his efforts were in vain.

He let out a choked wail, everything in his body seemed to stop all at once. His eyes trailed down to the wound across the front of his abdomen. Normally he would've gagged at the sight of blood. But this was more than his own blood. He'd seen body parts in movies, but nothing compared to seeing your own organs outside of your body. And there was so much blood. A flood of it.

Time barely felt like a thing now, as if he were moving through molasses. The pain didn't seem to register in his mind, he just felt numb. He felt distant fingers jerk the dog-tag necklace from his neck.

"I've got what I need..." The woman whispered in his ear, letting him finally slump to the ground.

He failed. He was supposed to protect his family. And somehow they had still managed to get information off of him. Stupid dog-tags.

I'm a failure...

✩₊˚.⋆𓍊𓋼𓍊⋆⁺₊✧