“C’mon now,” I mock softly. “Not enjoying the…accommodations?”
“F-fuck… y—” he tries, but his voice shatters before the word lands.
I chuckle. Then glance over my shoulder, signaling to Healer.
He steps forward, calm as ever, pulling out two syringes from his kit.
That’s when I hear it.
“W-what… what are you—”
Hellfire.
I turn my head just enough to meet his eyes. “There you are,” I say quietly. “Was wondering when you’d open that mouth.”
Healer doesn’t wait. He mercilessly drives the needle straight into Scar’s thigh. Then Hellfire’s.
Both men jerk instinctively, but it’s weak. Sloppy. Confused.
“What… what the—” Scar slurs, panic creeping in.
I rise slowly, brushing my hands together. “Relax,” I say, almost soothing. “It’s just a little something to help with the pain.”
Their breathing picks up.
There it is. That fear.
“It’s a paralytic,” I add casually. “Localised. You won’t feel anything below the waist.”
Their eyes widen. Bodies straining against the chains, their torso jutting off the wall in a desperate attempt.
But nothing responds. Their legs unmoving. Useless.
“Oh,” I hum, stepping closer to Scar again. “It’s kicking in, huh?”
I pull the knife from my boot.
Slowly—deliberately—I drag the blade across his thigh.
Skin splits.
Blood beads.
Scar’s leg doesn’t even twitch.
His breath hitches. A broken, choking sound escapes him.
“See?” I murmur, almost impressed. “Nothing.”
Hellfire starts shaking his head, frantic now. Words tumble out, incoherent.
“It’s temporary,” I reassure, voice soft. “Not permanent. I promise.”
Before relief can barely flicker across their faces, two gunshots crack through the basement.
I don’t even turn. Or even move.
Buttheydo.
