"Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood."
Gretchen, Donnie Darko
•••
It's a good eight hours before they show up again.
Luke is floating in and out of consciousness, the fever having spread up through his neck and to his ears. The throbbing has finally receded in his limbs, but even a slight movement causes extraordinary pain.
He doesn't even look up, mostly because he's not able to, when Ares throws the door open and saunters into the room. He hears the sounds of one of the medicine bottles opening, then manages to see through his swollen eyes the needle being drawn up with one white liquid. The needle goes into his neck again, and within seconds, his fever has receded. He can open his eyes.
"New questions for you Hemmings." Ares smiles, and his teeth are blindingly white. "I assume you're ready to cooperate?"
Luke tries to speak, but all that comes out is a gurgling noise. Ares rolls his eyes, draws up another milky substance, and shoots that into him. His throat opens, and he coughs up chunky film and blood until he can breath properly again.
"Got a location for me?" Ares asks, and Luke licks his chapped lips.
"Go to Hell." He growls, and it instantly wipes that stupid smirk off the man's face.
"Oh, I'm already there." Ares says lowly, pressing the tip of the needle up under Luke's chin. "Except it's your Hell. Your own personal inferno of pain. And guess what?" He chuckles, and goosebumps ride up Luke's spine. "I run it."
He jerks the needle back, nicking the sensitive skin of Luke's jaw. He grits his teeth. Maybe he'll let him die today.
"So, instead of telling me where Warner is." Ares puts down the syringe in favor of picking up the switchblade, clicking it open. "Why don't you tell me everything you know about the Alibi Organization of the Secret Services?"
Luke swallows. The AOSS. The symbol crosses his mind once more, the strange interlocking letters that are painfully familiar in a way he can't identify. The blue walls, the blue carpets, the blue emblem..
Ares must see the realization on his face because he smirks, pressing the tip of his blade to Luke's abdomen. "Come on buddy, I know you know at least a little. We found you in their bloody bunker." He licks his lips. "Spill, before I spill something else instead."
Luke blinks several times, but says nothing. Instead, he musters up the most spit he can possibly create and sends it sailing at Ares' face. Just like last time, it's flecked with red.
Unlike last time, Ares doesn't wipe it off. Instead, he slides the knife into Luke's stomach, slow and steady.
The pain is icy hot and brand new. Instead of shattering bones and bruises, it's a blade tearing slowly through his skin, his muscles, straight through to the bottom of his ribcage. He swears he can feel the knife grazing over the bone. When the hilt hits his skin, he lets out a low wheeze, but doesn't cry out.
"Did you know that the human abdomen can be stabbed over ten times without piercing any vital organs?" Ares says, a curious tone to his voice. "Fascinating, I know. Not near as fascinating as the location of Jason Warner, however." He slides the knife out and presses it up a few inches to the left of the first wound. "Care to elaborate?"
YOU ARE READING
Akeldama | lrh
أدب الهواة"With the reward he got for his wickedness, Judas bought a field; there he fell headlong, his body burst open and all his intestines spilled out. Everyone in Jerusalem heard about this, so they called that field in their language Akeldama, that is...
