Late Night

The two men barged their way through the front door of the man’s house. They had swiftly unlocked it with their brute force.

They were in a large, old house. One that certainly needed some tender love and care. The white paint that had turned a creamish grey colour, was peeling slowly off the wall. With every step they took, the dark, ancient, oak floorboards creaked. The matching beams, possessed dozens of little holes where they were being eaten by the termites. A dust-filled, burgundy rug, lay in the hallway’s floor. A ceramic vase containing dead, dry, flowers, rested on top of an antique chest of draws. The building was furnished with similar looking items.

“Cameron, we know you are in here. Don’t try hiding, it will only make things worse,” the taller one of the two men warned sternly. Both of them were dressed up in matching suits - black jacket, white shirt, black pants and tie, and squeaky clean shoes.

The tall man was rather lean, and wore a menacing look on his pale face. His golden brown locks were swept back neatly, and his piercing blue eyes searched the premises for their target at hand.
The other man who was with him, was a couple of inches shorter than his fellow colleague. Although he wasn’t as tall, he was much broader and more muscular. He had well-trimmed, short, mousy brown hair. His abnormal, green-blue eyes scrutinized everything in the house as he searched, his plump, perfectly shaped lips pressed together.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang, leaning his figure in every room on the ground floor.

After a few minutes of hide-and-seek, they were alerted of the man’s presence when an audible thud resonated through the ceiling.

“Gotcha,” the muscular man whispered, his abnormal eyes darting upwards.

The men in black paced upstairs, taking two steps at a time. The large staircase groaned under the weight of their feet. They swung open every door in the corridor before they reached the last one, at the very end.

They slowed down as they entered the room, anticipating for the worst. Gently, the door pushed open, and in the back corner, laid a helpless looking man.

He was curled up in himself, shaking noticeably. His black moppy hair drooped over his forehead, half-moon glasses slipping down his sweaty nose. He was completely soaked in fear.

“Cameron, what a pleasure to see you again,” the blonde one smiled slyly.

He reached for Cameron, offering his hand to lift him up, whilst the other man placed a wooden chair in the middle of the room. They pushed him into the chair and the man with the piercing blue eyes reached into his pocket and took out some cable ties. He proceeded in attaching the man’s wrists to the arms of the chair, and his ankles together.

“You should be comfortable enough like so,” he said, tugging on the ties so Cameron hissed in pain.

The broad, muscular man had left during the tying, but returned rapidly with a briefcase in hand. He swiftly placed it on a desk near the door.

“I can tell we’re going to have so much fun,” the broad man grinned, unclasping the lid.
“But first, we must get some questions out of the way,” he said, turning to face the petrified victim. He was holding a medium sized hammer in his right hand, tapping it lightly in the palm of his left one.

Cameron’s panicked eyes flew between the both of them.

“I think you have a vague idea of who we are. I’m Red, and this is my dear colleague, Green,” the sandy haired man gestured to his fellow friend,
“Hello,” Green nodded politely.

“Y-you think you g-guys scare me?!” Cameron finally piped up, “ well guess what - you don’t! A-and s-s-seriously, what sort of names are Green an-and Red? Grow up in a f-family of rainbows?” Cameron stuttered nervously. He was trying to put on a brave face, pretending he wasn’t terrified - though he obviously was.

“Haha,” Green chuckled, “nice try, Cameron, but I can smell you shitting yourself from here,”

The restrained man gulped, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“And we can explain the names. Green is mine, simply because, you won’t like me when I’m angry,” he whispered the last part.

Red turned to the briefcase and drew out a blunt kitchen knife - jagged edges and all. He stepped forwards, closer to the sweating prisoner who was cursing every bad word under the sun.
He pointed the ragged blade to his jugular, hearing the man whimpering as he did so.

“And I’m Red, ’cause I am the last thing you will ever see,” he uttered darkly, running the tip along his glistening neck.
“Please, please just tell me what you want,” he pleaded, desperation dripping from his voice.

“Well, a little birdy told us you’ve been continuing work on N653, where did you get the formula for it?”
“I..I,”
“Speak up, man,” Red snapped, pressing the knife harder against his flesh.
“W-we got it from..”
“From?” Green pushed. Red’s blade dug deeper, breaking the skin and drawing a few drops of blood.
“Argh!” Cameron cried, “Crawford! Crawford gave us permission to continue!” he exclaimed.

Red removed the knife from his neck.

“Good. Next question. Where is the laboratory based? Green inquired.

Cameron glances at Green then lowered his head. He was muttering something incomprehensible.
“Answer me, dammit!”
“L-London,” he mumbled.
“Tell the truth Cameron! We would know if you were based there!” Green scolded.

Cameron stayed silent, pressing his lips firmly together,

“You’re making me angry,” Green stated, “and you know what happens when I’m angry,” he said, nostrils flaring.

Cameron started hyperventilating as he saw Green approach him slowly, wielding the hammer. He dropped his mouth open, and closed it repetitively. He tried talking but no sound would come out.
Tied up, he watched hopelessly as the man brought the hammer down on the knuckle of his left index finger. He howled as the pain coursed through him.

“Now, I shall ask you again, this time if you don’t answer, or answer me incorrectly, I’ll let Red have a go at you,” he smiled deviously as Red danced the knife around with his long, slender fingers. “Where. Is. The. Laboratory?”

“P-Port Talbot. It’s based in Port Talbot,” Cameron sighed, hanging his head in defeat.
“Excellent. I see you’re starting to get the hang of this,” Red chuckled.

“Why has Crawford let you continue development?”

Again, Cameron stayed silent. He shut his eyes as he knew what was coming next.

“I thought we were doing so well,” Green sang, then swung the hammer down violently,
Crack. One Knuckle. Crack. Another knuckle. Crack. Another one. His left thumb was left unharmed, though the rest of his fingers on his left hand were good for nothing.

Cameron was now crying, his tears escaping as he tried to endure the agony. He just could not tell them, it was something he just could not let them know.

“Oh dear, dear me. Red, I’ll let you take care of him - I have a call to make,” Green said, retiring to the corridor.

Once he had his back facing the door, he could hear the screeches and screams as Red sawed off the tops of Cameron’s fingers on his right hand.

He pulled out his phone and punched in the number. It rang only once.
“Yes?” A deep, gravelly voice answered.
“He won’t talk, he’s not going to let this one slip. We know where the base is and that Crawford gave them the go-ahead, but he won’t tell us why,” Green sighed.
“Very well done, boys. We’ll see if someone else can five us the information. Send him on his way,” the man ordered.
“Of course, Sir.”
“I must go now. I’m meeting our six volunteers.”
“Have fun, Sir,” Green replied,
“Oh, I will.” He hung up and Green returned to the temporary torture room.

“Still nothing?” he asked as he closed the squeaking door,
“Nope, not a word,” Red sighed as he wiped the blood off the silver blade.
“Shame..”

“Well Cameron, you’ll be pleased to know we are letting you go. But, you must stop whatever you are doing with N653 or we most certainly will meet again,” Green threatened as he untied the man’s feet and hands.

Red packed away the tools, and shut the briefcase. The two men walked away gracefully, leaving the man to bleed in his chair.