In Between 'Hattan and Brooklyn || A Sprace Story

Chapter 79 - Racetrack, You Idiot

- Chapter 79 - I'm going to warn you all: these next few chapters with Race get really dark, like especially for me -
Warnings: Abuse, insults, sarcastic remarks, and other stuff
Third Person POV

"Quit struggling!" Barter snapped, trying to force Race to sit down in the chair.

Impulse gritted his teeth. "You idiot," he grumbled, holding Race's hands together. "Stop moving!"

Race wiggled as much as he could to try and get away from them. "Get- off of me!" he grunted, trying to kick Barter away.

"You little-" Barter leapt forward, trying to wrap the rope around his hands. "Sit down!"

Impulse finally forced Race to sit down, holding him down while Barter tied his hand to the chair. He glared down at him, hatred burning in his eyes. "You don't give up, do you, you stubborn idiot?" he grumbled.

Race glared at him. "Weren't you the one saying you always liked a challenge?" he questioned, clearly mocking him.

Impulse gritted his teeth. He wanted to make Race regret saying anything, but decided instead to just ask Barter if he was done.

"Almost!" Barter rolled his eyes. "Stop rushing me. You're doing a crap job at keeping his hand down," he snapped.

Impulse rolled his eyes and roughly pinned Race's hand to the arm of the chair.

Race winced in pain.

Impulse almost smirked when he saw.

Despite Race's attempts to stop them, they finished tying Race's hands and torso to the arms of the chair and the back of the chair after a few minutes.

"Thank God." Impulse leaned his back against the wall, pulling out a cigarette.

Race tried pulling his hands out from the ropes. "You know, I've always hated ropes," he commented, trying to act calmer than he felt. "They were one of the one things my father rarely used."

Impulse grabbed a lighter and lit his cigarette. "Well, get used to them," he grumbled. "They'll be your friends for a while."

"And we wouldn't have had to use them if you had just made our job easier and not untied the other rope and almost broken the window," Barter reminded him, clearly annoyed that they now had to repair the window.

Race would've smirked, if he wasn't annoyed he'd gotten himself into a worse situation with less likely chances to get out.

He kept doing the math, and it seemed as though with every passing second, the chances of him making it out okay were dimming.

"I didn't even know he could reach that window," Scar commented, speaking up for the first time since he had come into the room. "He hasn't exactly grown since the last time I saw him."

Race's gaze (or glare) turned to him. It had been years since he had seen Scar, and his last impression of him was not a fun memory to relive. "And you haven't gotten any smarter than the last time I saw you," he quipped.

Scar kept the same calm-exterior that he had maintained for the whole time he had been in the room. It was very different from how he was since the last time he had seen him. "I don't believe you know enough about me to make that call," he stated.