𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬

《 6 》

With my back pressed against the wall, I watched my guards bring the unconscious men inside the base. They locked them in different rooms, treating their wounds before leaving them chained to a chair. I took a long drag of my cigarette as I motioned for Blake to come over to my side.

"Get me the syringes and the drugs." I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows, holding the cigarette between my teeth. He looked back at the chained up men before shrugging.

"On it." He spoke as he began to walk down the hall. Soon after he disappeared out of my sight.

I walked over to the first cell, marking a pin on the lock so the door would open. The inside was extremely cold, the walls a grayish color but you could see they had been washed off. Faint stains of blood adorned them. On the far corner there was a chair, and a table. It held almost every weapon imaginable. From matches, to screwdrivers and butcher knives. A set of ropes and chains hung from the side of it, including a whip. These men have no idea of what they've gotten themselves into.

A whistle knocked me out of my thoughts as I looked to my left, where Blake walked in holding a tray with ten syringes. "Care to watch, or would you like to join?" I said as I grabbed one of them, walking over to the man chained up in the middle of the room. He simply chuckled, leaning back against the wall. My knife ripped open the man's sleeve, creating space for me to inject him with the drug. Swiftly, I dug the needle into his arm, and the syringe quickly emptied.

The process repeated for the next eight men. At last, I held the last syringe while opening the door to the last cell. I recognized the last one as the motorcyclist, but this one was completely conscious, unlike the rest. Blake cleared his throat, gaining his attention as the both of us stood in the doorway. His head snapped in our direction while pulling on the chains. He spat blood our way; his intense glare fixing on me. I returned his glare, fixing my black leather gloves as I held the syringe between my teeth.

"Non mi stai iniettando quella merda." He finally threatened. Just what I expected, the tough act. He seems to know the exact situation he's in. At least now I know something. He speaks Italian.

[You're not injecting me with that shit.]

"Ancora." I pulled the metal chair in the corner of the room, placing in in front of him before straddling it. "Prima voglio fare una chiacchierata con te." The transparent liquid in the syringe reflected in the light as I slowly raised it up in the air.

[Yet.][I want to have a little chat with you first.]

"Sei arrivato nel posto sbagliato." He muttered under his breath; his glare glued to mine. This one's a brave one, now isn't he? I snickered, leaning forward on my chair.

[You came to the wrong place.]

"Actually, you did." My expression turned serious in the blink of an eye. I saw Blake get comfortable against the wall by placing his hands in the nape of his neck. He remained silent; his eyes scanning the room. In the meantime, the chains' clanking echoed throughout the room as the captive made a sharp movement with his legs, attempting to kick me. I looked down, noticing his bandaged ankle.