| "Holding On" | ||
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Nice Pair Stripclub June 3, 2008, 0117 hours Lima Time With his hands tied behind his back his attacking ability was reduced. This didn't mean he was defenceless; had he wanted to he could have given the three large men a run for their money. Instead he let them beat him, kick him, subdue him, for the failure that he felt was too much for him to take. The men saw it in his eyes every time they struck a blow, the empty look he gave, as if nothing mattered anymore. It only made it easier for them, and they didn't let up in their assault. The minutes stretched, each one blending into the next until he could no longer distinguish between them Instead he measured time in blows received, counting one as two seconds. Each time the men struck he felt their bodies connect with him, forcing the air from his lungs like an untied balloon let go by a careless child. He tried to hold his breath but it was no use, the force of the blows was too strong. He tasted blood in his mouth, realising that his lips must have been split. He tried to spit but even that proved to be beyond his current capabilities. Instead the blood jus dribbled down his shirt, running like a red river through the creases, his life ebbing away. He stopped feeling the pain; the blows still rained in on him like a torrential storm but when they connected with his body all he felt was the impact, not the pain. In place of the pain there was a dull ache, as if he had been exercising continually for a number days. He felt as if he had lived with this ache for his whole life. "Enough," a voice commanded. A slight pause, then one final kick into his stomach. "Leave us," the voice said, and the men departed. Nikolai managed to raise his head just enough to see Daniel Odds looking down on him. "Fuck� off," he managed to say through his bloodstained lips. Odds sat on a chair in the corner of the otherwise empty room, taking his time to make himself comfortable before he spoke. "You know, I was quite surprised when I was shown pictures of you meeting with Sondi." Odds smiled. "I thought you were dead. Obviously that whole thing in Russia, that night I celebrated, was jus a fabrication, a story. Let me ask you something: did you plan it? Was it all just a way of making me forget about you, so that you could seek your revenge without detection? If it was then I must admit that it worked. You beat me, on that at least." Nikolai looked at the man who had caused him so much anguish, his demon. Everything he said or did was now calculated to cause him the most amount of pain. Even the small compliment burned into Nikolai's soul, for he knew what was coming next, the failure. "You must remember though," Odds continued," that old saying `you may have won the battle but you will lose the war'. How true that is. I have beaten you. I have won the war. Just like before you didn't stand a chance. You still think you're smarter than me, even when I prove you wrong. How long do you think I've been watching you? As soon as I found out about your meeting with Sondi I had you followed. I knew when you left for London, where you stayed, the places you went to buy food and clothes, I knew it all. I even had someone follow you when you went to stay with Hannah. I know that you killed my assassin, even if that can never be proved. I just know. Something I don't know, however, is how you've become this killer on a mission. I'm certain that you haven't been in the military; you'd need to be living to do that. So, what did you do? Train with terrorists? That's what scum like you do. Syria? Iran? Cuba? Northern Ireland? Come on, where was it you trained? Who trained you?" Odds leapt off the chair and placed a hard kick into Nikolai's stomach. "Who fucking trained you?" he yelled. The words echoed in the room, leaving behind a silence that hung like a chandelier, suspended in the air. "Fuck off� you stupid� cunt," he managed to answer. The pain was starting to come back, spreading through his body like a ripple, working its way outward from the place where Odds had kicked him. Daniel Odds looked at him, seeing his head drop, knowing what it signified. "You're weak. Fucking pathetic. What did you expect, huh? That you could walk in here, totting that weird gun of yours, and kill me? Are you really that fucking stupid? I bet you don't even know who I am, who I work for. What a big mistake that was. Hey, seeing as I've got some time why don't I explain it all to you? You like that?" Odds went back to his corner and sat on the chair. The pain began to hit him in waves, each one adding emphasis to the wounds on his body. He stifled a moan but it was too late. "Awww, are you hurt? Tough shit. Where was I? Oh yes. After I left that quaint little dump you seem so fond of I decided that it was time I made my mark on the world, so I looked for the easiest way to make some money, you know, to get me on the ladder. Within a month I was part of the Crowe Empire, working my way up from lowly drug-dealer to personal accountant. Within six months I had become one of Mr Crowe's most important aides, and now I'm running this stripclub. Another few years and I'll be in control of half of London. Now, compare that to your life, which I might add is going to end shortly. What have you accomplished? Have you made your mark on the world? You're having trouble talking, so I'll answer for you. So far you have achieved precisely� nothing. Your entire life will have ended with your most notable achievement having been sleeping without nappies. Lets face the facts: your life has amounted to shit." He spat at Nikolai. "Now, I've got a meeting with Mr Crowe. I'll leave you with an old friend." He stood, brushed himself off, then moved to the door. Nikolai hauled himself into a sitting position. "You won't make your next birthday," he managed to say. Daniel turned and smiled. "I think you will find that it is you who will not make their next birthday." He stepped out of the room.Nikolai took a couple of breaths, knowing that the beatings would resume any minute now. He managed to look at the figure who had just entered the room, as immediately he knew who the bloated figure was. "Fat Bastard�" Fat Bastard didn't reply. Instead he taped up his fist and laughed. Return |
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