A ghost from the past.
Dated to a couple of days after this (thread is in progress).
His eyes had barely started adjusting to the dark room as he awoke when a door opened, letting in bright sunlight that caused him to flinch back at once. It was hard to figure out how long he had been there, and he had no idea what time of day it was or even what day it was; his mind seemed to be enveloped in some sort of fog that was making it hard for him to think.
The past couple of days he had been kept in a sort of tiny jail cell where he had been mostly sleeping - or, at least, that's what he figured he had been doing since he couldn't remember much of anything. Now, though, as his eyes very slowly started to open and started to readjust to seeing again, he realized he was no longer in that jail cell, and he was no longer laying down. Now he was sitting on a chair and was tied so he'd stay there. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, so he didn't bother to move. His body was drained from any energy he might have, and all he really wanted right now was just to sleep for days after downing some painkillers so the pain that was suddenly overtaking his body could somehow disappear.
"Michael," a voice suddenly said as a person stepped into the room, followed by three others, "how good to see you again."
Although the voice sounded familiar, Michael couldn't recognize it and it was hard to figure out who it belonged to. He couldn't focus on the people walking up to him no matter how much he tried. It didn't take long, though, before the person who had been walking in front of everyone else came into view, but Michael could only stare in disbelief. No, he tried to tell himself, no, it can't be him.
Jack, noticing the look of shock on his face, simply smirked. "What, you're not happy to see me?"
It took a minute for Michael to find his voice again, but when he finally did he couldn't hide how shocked he was. He had to be dreaming. This had to be some sort of sick nightmare that he had to wake up from, and... No. This could not be happening. "You... I shot you, you-... You're dead!"
Smirking, Jack leaned close to him so Michael could see his face better. "Correction: I'm supposed to be dead. It really does help to have so much power and money, don't you think? Gives you access to so many resources, and doctors who can do wonders. Unfortunately I've had to keep hiding all these months, and I've lost a lot of money because of you..." Jack's smirk vanished, and it was replaced by a look of pure hatred. "And to think you're to blame for that, after we all took such good care of you when you were just some bratty kid."
Hearing him talk, having him there, sparked something inside of Michael that started to make him more aware of what was going on. Moving his hands behind his back he realized once more of just how tight the handcuffs were on, and moving his ankles made him realize that they had tied him to the chair from there as well. Goddamn it... "You make it sound like I owe you something," Michael spat out angrily, a new defiance starting to glimmer in his eyes.
"And you don't? But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, should I? I hear you keep pulling the same fuckin' stunt on other people, too. Like Charlie, for example. You were buddies with him just while you needed to get heroin from him, and after that you simply tossed him aside. And Alena... Ah, poor Alena."
Just the mention of her name caused Michael's blood to boil as his anger kept rising. "What, you were working with her, too?"
Smirking once more, Jack just cocked his head to the side very slightly. "You're surprised? You didn't think that Marc Walsh really wanted you to work for him just out of the blue, did you?" Faking a sigh, he shook his head. "But you betrayed them, too. While we were trying to frame you, turns out that you were framing them. And after you slept with her! That's just damn low, Michael."
Michael glared at him, wanting so badly to free himself from everything that was holding him back even if he knew he probably didn't stand a chance against so many people at one time. "Shut the fuck up, Jack."
"Why, does it hurt to hear the truth?" He stayed silent, just staring at him with a look of disgust before he shook his head. "It's a pity that my brother wants to keep you alive a little longer. If I had my way, I'd kill you right now."
Unable to hold it back, Michael let out a laugh. "You would kill me? That's what you tried to hire me for, remember? And, isn't your brother dead? Hasn't the poor bastard been dead for a couple of years?"
"I have three brothers, Michael," Jack responded flatly. "Two of which passed away already, and one who I'm sure you already know." Jack leaned towards him and grabbed his face with his free hand. "You remember Marc, right?"
Disbelief and denial settled in Michael's mind again, and once he tried to pull back from Jack’s grasp he shook his head. If before Michael had been feeling foolish, right now he had passed that by so many levels that he was sure there must be one category just for him for being so stupid. For believing anything that Alena had ever said, for not seeing their game. "His last name is different," he finally said, trying to prove that Jack was lying, even if he already knew deep down that he was telling the truth.
Jack chuckled. "Same mother, different father. I'm sure you know about that, seeing as how you and I seem to have that in common, hmm? He had instructed me to get rid of you years ago, but I thought you'd be a great hit man. Remember how many times I tried to make you see that? But I just let you slide and work in whatever you wanted." He shook his head, as if in disappointment. "You could have been great, Michael. Hell, I thought that I'd be able to get a few more years out of you and make you work for me again, maybe use that pain and anger that you had after losing Lauren and your little brat. You would have been a great hitman if you wouldn't have softened up so damn much, but instead you broke. Turned out that not even getting the damn brat out of the way helped in putting that anger for that 'injustice' to good use."
Those words caused a sudden rage to burst from deep inside him, making Michael suddenly forget about any pain he had been in, allowing him to make an attempt to come free from the ropes and the handcuffs that were holding him back. His chair moved forward as he struggled, wanting so badly to just reach over and kill Jack with his bare hands, but he couldn’t come free from anything. Not from the chair, not from the rope, and surely not from the handcuffs. The frustration caused him to push forward more and more, but all he accomplished was to amuse Jack in the process, and to wear himself out. It didn't take long for his body to start giving in again.
"You'll pay for this," Michael muttered, panting before groaning loudly in pain as a sharp wave of pain started to run along his body. "I'll fucking make you pay for all you've ever done, Jack, you hear me? I swear-"
"And what, exactly, are you going to do, Michael? From where I'm standing you can't do a damn thing to anyone." Jack started to take a few steps back to make his way out. "If anything, now you'll get to experience some of the things that you did to some of the people that betrayed us in the past. You remember, don't you? How a betrayal is paid around here? If you don't, that's fine; these men will help you remember."
And, with that, Jack left the room. Michael had been so busy planning out how he'd hurt Jack that he didn't feel the sudden prick on his arm before things started to become distorted again. In the last moments of consciousness he tried to figure out what they had injected in him, which was used to knock him out so they could transport him to some other location where they could do whatever they wanted to him, but before he could figure it out things went dark again.
His eyes had barely started adjusting to the dark room as he awoke when a door opened, letting in bright sunlight that caused him to flinch back at once. It was hard to figure out how long he had been there, and he had no idea what time of day it was or even what day it was; his mind seemed to be enveloped in some sort of fog that was making it hard for him to think.
The past couple of days he had been kept in a sort of tiny jail cell where he had been mostly sleeping - or, at least, that's what he figured he had been doing since he couldn't remember much of anything. Now, though, as his eyes very slowly started to open and started to readjust to seeing again, he realized he was no longer in that jail cell, and he was no longer laying down. Now he was sitting on a chair and was tied so he'd stay there. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, so he didn't bother to move. His body was drained from any energy he might have, and all he really wanted right now was just to sleep for days after downing some painkillers so the pain that was suddenly overtaking his body could somehow disappear.
"Michael," a voice suddenly said as a person stepped into the room, followed by three others, "how good to see you again."
Although the voice sounded familiar, Michael couldn't recognize it and it was hard to figure out who it belonged to. He couldn't focus on the people walking up to him no matter how much he tried. It didn't take long, though, before the person who had been walking in front of everyone else came into view, but Michael could only stare in disbelief. No, he tried to tell himself, no, it can't be him.
Jack, noticing the look of shock on his face, simply smirked. "What, you're not happy to see me?"
It took a minute for Michael to find his voice again, but when he finally did he couldn't hide how shocked he was. He had to be dreaming. This had to be some sort of sick nightmare that he had to wake up from, and... No. This could not be happening. "You... I shot you, you-... You're dead!"
Smirking, Jack leaned close to him so Michael could see his face better. "Correction: I'm supposed to be dead. It really does help to have so much power and money, don't you think? Gives you access to so many resources, and doctors who can do wonders. Unfortunately I've had to keep hiding all these months, and I've lost a lot of money because of you..." Jack's smirk vanished, and it was replaced by a look of pure hatred. "And to think you're to blame for that, after we all took such good care of you when you were just some bratty kid."
Hearing him talk, having him there, sparked something inside of Michael that started to make him more aware of what was going on. Moving his hands behind his back he realized once more of just how tight the handcuffs were on, and moving his ankles made him realize that they had tied him to the chair from there as well. Goddamn it... "You make it sound like I owe you something," Michael spat out angrily, a new defiance starting to glimmer in his eyes.
"And you don't? But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, should I? I hear you keep pulling the same fuckin' stunt on other people, too. Like Charlie, for example. You were buddies with him just while you needed to get heroin from him, and after that you simply tossed him aside. And Alena... Ah, poor Alena."
Just the mention of her name caused Michael's blood to boil as his anger kept rising. "What, you were working with her, too?"
Smirking once more, Jack just cocked his head to the side very slightly. "You're surprised? You didn't think that Marc Walsh really wanted you to work for him just out of the blue, did you?" Faking a sigh, he shook his head. "But you betrayed them, too. While we were trying to frame you, turns out that you were framing them. And after you slept with her! That's just damn low, Michael."
Michael glared at him, wanting so badly to free himself from everything that was holding him back even if he knew he probably didn't stand a chance against so many people at one time. "Shut the fuck up, Jack."
"Why, does it hurt to hear the truth?" He stayed silent, just staring at him with a look of disgust before he shook his head. "It's a pity that my brother wants to keep you alive a little longer. If I had my way, I'd kill you right now."
Unable to hold it back, Michael let out a laugh. "You would kill me? That's what you tried to hire me for, remember? And, isn't your brother dead? Hasn't the poor bastard been dead for a couple of years?"
"I have three brothers, Michael," Jack responded flatly. "Two of which passed away already, and one who I'm sure you already know." Jack leaned towards him and grabbed his face with his free hand. "You remember Marc, right?"
Disbelief and denial settled in Michael's mind again, and once he tried to pull back from Jack’s grasp he shook his head. If before Michael had been feeling foolish, right now he had passed that by so many levels that he was sure there must be one category just for him for being so stupid. For believing anything that Alena had ever said, for not seeing their game. "His last name is different," he finally said, trying to prove that Jack was lying, even if he already knew deep down that he was telling the truth.
Jack chuckled. "Same mother, different father. I'm sure you know about that, seeing as how you and I seem to have that in common, hmm? He had instructed me to get rid of you years ago, but I thought you'd be a great hit man. Remember how many times I tried to make you see that? But I just let you slide and work in whatever you wanted." He shook his head, as if in disappointment. "You could have been great, Michael. Hell, I thought that I'd be able to get a few more years out of you and make you work for me again, maybe use that pain and anger that you had after losing Lauren and your little brat. You would have been a great hitman if you wouldn't have softened up so damn much, but instead you broke. Turned out that not even getting the damn brat out of the way helped in putting that anger for that 'injustice' to good use."
Those words caused a sudden rage to burst from deep inside him, making Michael suddenly forget about any pain he had been in, allowing him to make an attempt to come free from the ropes and the handcuffs that were holding him back. His chair moved forward as he struggled, wanting so badly to just reach over and kill Jack with his bare hands, but he couldn’t come free from anything. Not from the chair, not from the rope, and surely not from the handcuffs. The frustration caused him to push forward more and more, but all he accomplished was to amuse Jack in the process, and to wear himself out. It didn't take long for his body to start giving in again.
"You'll pay for this," Michael muttered, panting before groaning loudly in pain as a sharp wave of pain started to run along his body. "I'll fucking make you pay for all you've ever done, Jack, you hear me? I swear-"
"And what, exactly, are you going to do, Michael? From where I'm standing you can't do a damn thing to anyone." Jack started to take a few steps back to make his way out. "If anything, now you'll get to experience some of the things that you did to some of the people that betrayed us in the past. You remember, don't you? How a betrayal is paid around here? If you don't, that's fine; these men will help you remember."
And, with that, Jack left the room. Michael had been so busy planning out how he'd hurt Jack that he didn't feel the sudden prick on his arm before things started to become distorted again. In the last moments of consciousness he tried to figure out what they had injected in him, which was used to knock him out so they could transport him to some other location where they could do whatever they wanted to him, but before he could figure it out things went dark again.