The Double Mob Job

Chapter 10 Nightmare

A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait. I'm trying to plan out the chapter where the mob is taken down. Any help anyone can give would be appreciated. This chapter is a filler but it shines some light on Fallon's past. Enjoy!

Chapter 10 Nightmare

I was sitting in a chair with my hands cuffed behind me and to the chair. My arms were duct taped to the arms of the chair and my legs taped to the legs of the chair. Thick rope was at my waist, another restraint. A total of 15 men were in the room, the one in front of me with the hunting knife was the mark for the job I had been working. "Do you know why you are here?" he asked. The drugs in my system made him sound far away and my vision was blurry.

I didn't respond, I knew what they wanted and I wasn't going to give it to them. "If you won't talk, I'll make you wish you were dead." I saw a red flashing light. This was being recorded. I had a pretty good idea of where it was being sent. I knew I was somewhere in the middle east and in a place that had a large bounty on my friend's head. This was to get to him. These guys didn't know that I couldn't feel physical pain, but that was not their goal. I was glad I had discussed this with my friend, so he would know what to do. He wouldn't put his life on the line, hopefully.

They could torture me all they wanted. I wouldn't talk, but I had to figure out how to tell Eliot to get help, I knew he was watching. This was to torture him and I knew he would come even though I would tell him to stay. "Fine then, if you won't tell us where Eliot Spencer is then we'll make him come to us. But he won't make it in time to save you," the man drawled. I couldn't place his accent but his face was finally coming into focus. He had a slight beard of black hair and dark skin. A plain turban was wrapped around his head. "Speak!" he yelled, hoping to scare me into talking.

I kept eye contact with him, not breaking it. He punched me in the jaw and I spat, my blood mixing with my saliva. "If you're expecting to break me, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," I said spitting once again, though this time I aimed for his face instead of the ground. I hit my mark, right between his eyes.

He slapped me this time, my head snapping to the side. The sting that people talk about when they are hit never came. "You little bitch!" he yelled. As things came into focus I could see the floor was concrete, as were the walls. There were a few bulbs hanging from wires in the ceiling. No windows, one room with a door leading out presumably. In the corner was a bucket, the bathroom. In another corner was bottled water and dried fruits and nuts.

"I've heard that before, didn't your mother teach you better manners?" I asked biting back a laugh. He delivered a blow to my gut. I grunted as the air was knocked from my body. "It's rude to hit a woman, especially when she can't fight back" I growled. My friend had taught me to fight and not give up. If what I thought was going on then was I knew help would come. I just hoped I was right, I may not be able to feel physical pain but that didn't mean I could hold out indefinitely.

For the next several hours I was cut and stabbed. "Before this is over I will skin you alive," one of the men growled. I didn't care who it was so I didn't bother to pay attention. They were all taking turns torturing me. "You're going to die here but before you do you're going to watch your friend die." I fought the urge to fight against my restraints. They were trying to get to me. I worked to school my features to show disinterest. I did my best to keep my rage out of my face and eyes as their taunts continued.

As they taunted I thought hard about how much time had passed, trying to figure out how long I had been here. I knew I had been taken in the afternoon, and I knew the drugs they had given me had knocked me out for at least three hours. I also knew I had been here for about 15 hours. The time came up to about a day. "Hey are you listening?" one of them snapped. I didn't bother to open my eyes; I was placing myself in a better spot.