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Of Wolf and Man; Who let the dogs out, who, who, who?
Topic Started: Mar 12 2016, 06:14 PM (14,176 Views)
Gene Hunt
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*Being a werewolf isn't easy. And neither is being under the thumb of a werewolf hunter. Someone who knows your secret and is only just barely holding back from tracking you down and putting a silver bullet between your eyes for the one reason that you're more valuable to him alive than dead. At the moment, anyway. And it's not like the relationship isn't mutually beneficial in some way. Even though Gene despises taking the money, he has no choice. It's live and live well with all the information he needs or die and end up someone's throw rug.

It's been this way for years, between Warren and Gene. It's routine. And so far Gene's fairly sure Warren's the only one who knows. His colleagues don't. They only know that he's unavailable for evening drinks once a month because of "wife commitments", though none of them have been brave enough to point out that they haven't seen his missus in years. Sam definitely doesn't know. It'd blow his little mind,considering how he's already a little peculiar.

But of course, like he always does, here's Sam bloody Tyler - his best mate, his right hand, his deputy dog - putting all of this at risk. He doesn't know the specific nature of the danger he's putting them both in, how could he. And Warren would never DO anything about it, he knows that Warren needs Gene too much. Having a DCI at your beck and call is nothing to throw away just because of some uppity little twerp rocking the boat. Right?? *
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam's insides turn to ice.

They want him to... they want him to watch. As they... no, he can't even think it. Gene is already at their mercy, and now...

Sam's thoughts begin to race. If Edwards captures him now, he has no way of getting Gene out of there. He has to prevent that from happening. He needs to keep Edwards talking, and figure out a way to escape... he knows where he's got his car parked, but it's a long way off... Jesus Christ...

Keep him talking, keep him talking....!*

*barely keeping his voice calm* Why?
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards laughs - Sam really can't work it out?

"Well, you're a big part of this! The only reason we're even holding this event is because you gave us the opportunity to! You're the guest of honour!"

He places a hand over his heart, face twisted in mock persuasion.

"If you're a good boy maybe Warren'll let you take a souvenir. A tooth, maybe. Or an eye - supposed to be good luck if you keep it above your bed. Could be useful in your line of work."*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Jesus Christ.

For a good few seconds, all Sam can do is stare at Edwards, all colour draining from his face. It's not just the horrible images that spring to his mind's eye - it's the fact that Edwards is blaming this on Sam.

He rocked the boat...

No, no, he can't think like that. It isn't his, or Gene's fault - this is all on Warren. All of it.

This time, Sam can't quite keep the tremor out of his voice.*

What if I refuse to come?
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Gene Hunt
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*He shrugs again, as though this is all out of his control.

"You'll be coming whether you want to or not. The real question is, are you gonna walk in on your own, watch, then leave... "

Then, quick as a flash, Edwards's manner becomes even darker. The smile disappears, replaced by a sneer.

"... Or are we going to have to tie you to a chair and wrap you up in your mate's warm, wet pelt, ripped fresh from 'is back? Leave you there' to watch his blood cool til morning? Choice is yours."*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*...

He's going to vomit. Sam stares at Edwards, speechless, horror and nausea written all over his face.

He doesn't doubt that Warren would go this far. After everything he's done - he'd be following right through.

Sam stumbles back a step before he can stop himself, a hand pressed against his stomach.

He can't think. The images are in his head now, and he can't think.*
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Gene Hunt
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*The look on Sam's face - it's delicious. So delicious.

"Hey, no hurling just yet - you need to save some for later."

Another sly grin.

"So. What's it gonna be? I know which I'd choose, but then again I've always liked the feel of fur."

He steps forwards, flexing his arms as though preparing himself for a fight. Knowing Sam for the short time he has, he can anticipate having to use some force.

"Come on, let's go. DCI Hunt will be THRILLED to see you, I'm sure."*
Edited by Gene Hunt, Oct 16 2016, 07:14 PM.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam feels light-headed as he stares at Edwards, his limbs trembling slightly - his entire body trembling. Adrenaline. Fear and adrenaline. And the moment Edwards steps forward, there is only one thing he can do.

Run.

Sam turns and darts off, not feeling the pain in his side and leg any longer.

He needs to get back to the car. He can outrun Edwards. He can do this.

You can't outrun the beast, a voice in his head whispers.

Sam doesn't listen, sprinting through the woods, rapidly leaving the shed and Edwards behind him.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Just as Edwards thought. As Sam turns and runs, he laughs loudly, shouting at the top of his lungs for Sam to hear.

"Good choice, Samuel! I'll wrap you up all nice and warm myself!"

And with that, Edwards starts forward as well, running full speed towards the fleeing DI*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Edwards' shout spurs Sam on to run even faster, his breathing sounding far too loud in his own ears. But even despite that, he can hear Edwards' footsteps, branches cracking -

Run, Sam, run!!

He can see the end of the little forest up ahead - after that, it'll be across a meadow, to another group of trees, then the river... shit, the river. Where was the bridge?!

Sam cuts to the right sharply, the adrenaline powering his muscles to go into overdrive, to run like he has never before in his life.

This isn't like a month ago. Edwards won't get him... he won't.... he won't.....!*
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards runs, but he knows that in this form he's no match for Sam's slimmer frame. So, he slows down to a stop, Sam still just ahead.

Panting, he hollers again, making sure Sam will hear.

"Okay, you asked for it!"

Then, he screams. But not with pain. Edwards doesn't mind this feeling - he knows that when his body twists in this way, he's about to rip into someone. Overpower them. Feel them writhe under him, desperate and afraid.

He's on top, just as it always should be.

It only takes a minute for Edwards to change - he actively encourages the process along, he doesn't fight it. The tusks sprout from his jaw, his fingers crack and malform, the thick claws tearing from his fingertips.

In a loud, raspy, booming roar, the monster screams again, his words muffled and distorted by the giant mouth.

"RUN, LITTLE PIGGY, RUN!"*
Edited by Gene Hunt, Oct 16 2016, 07:46 PM.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam hears it. He hears Edwards' shout, then the scream.

Then, the roar, just as he breaks out into the open field.

There is no room for thoughts now. Someone whimpers, Sam can hear the sound over the pounding of his boots on the ground, over the sound of his laboured breathing.

He feels skin tear across his face all over again. He feels teeth sinking into his leg. He feels that absolute hopelessness.

Sam keeps running, faster, faster.
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Gene Hunt
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*Powered by the new muscle, Edwards bursts into the clearing, eyes fixed on Sam ahead of him. It looks like he's heading for the next patch of forest - no problem, Edwards'll catch him.

Claws tearing up the grass beneath his feet, he roars again.

"NO WOLF AROUND TO SAVE YOU NOW!"*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Another whimper, scared, desperate - oh. It's his own.

Sam doesn't even feel the burn of his lungs as he crosses the clearing, reaches its end just as he hears the monster bursting through.

Edwards is going to catch up, he's going to tear Sam apart--

He's in another forest now, sprinting past trees, not noticing how a low-hanging branch whips across his cheek.

Sam is running for his dear life, adrenaline pumping through his veins like mad.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards hits the wall of trees with a crash - some give way under the impact, others grab at him and slow him down. With a shout Edwards thrashes, tearing branches and vines down as he follows Sam into the undergrowth*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam is still ahead. The noises behind him are terrifying - the beast breaking through the wood, growling and snarling.

But it hasnt caught up yet.

Suddenly, Sam is out of the woods again. And there - the river. The bridge. To his left.

Sam changes direction, his feet barely touching the ground. He's so close. So close. So close...!*
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards continues to crash and tear his way through the trees, set on catching Sam. He has no doubt that he will, and he can practically smell the fear coming off his prey - but he also does need to get back to Warren - they have work to do, after all.

A moment later, he's out of the woods as well, only metres behind Sam - so close....!!*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The crashing stops. That means...

Sam, still running as fast as he possibly can, throws a glance back over his shoulder - and what he sees sends fresh panic through his system. The monster is gaining on him - it'll have him, it will--

Sam tries to speed up again, he's so close, he can--

His foot catches on something in the grass. Suddenly he's on the ground, skidding across mud as the force of his own speed carries him further towards the riverbank. It's instinct that makes him try and continue scrabbling on, but the impact has left him dazed, but he has to continue on, he has to--!!*
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards is running full pelt now, faster than he's ever run before. The bulging muscles in his shoulders propell him forward, a heat-seeking missile.

An overpowering surge of delight fills him as he sees Sam struggling, running towards the river - so close but so far. Because now he's within reach. One last bound and Edwards'll be on him!

He takes his chance, pouncing forward, clawed hands outstretched ready to seize Sam and drag him down.

But then his claws connect with nothing. In slow motion, he sees Sam falling - dropping like a stone out of his grasp, skidding and sliding underneath Edwards' sailing body.

The river... Shit!

Edwards collides with the mud just as Sam did, his body sliding through the wet bog, claws grasping fruitlessly at the sodden, loose soil. He skids onto his side, legs flailing desperately - and then a cold, hard splash.

The water stings - paralyses. It freezes his already altered body temperature, claws useless at paddling. With a sound only comparable to that of a screaming pig, Edwards churns the water around him, trying to keep his head above water.

"TYLER!!!"*

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Sam feels rather than sees something huge flying right above him. Then, a mighty SPLASH.

Panting, his body thrumming with adrenaline, Sam looks up with eyes wide as saucers, but he hears the scream before he sees what's actually happening, and it makes his blood run cold. And... there he is.... Edwards, in the river...

At first, Sam doesn't even understand what's going on - Edwards will be out of the river in a second, and all Sam is able to is lie here, heart beating like a jackhammer, watching and waiting for the monster to scramble out of the water and--!*
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards flails, scrabbling at nothing in an attempt to make it back to shore. The current is strong, whipping his legs from underneath him and denying him the power to swim. He'd heard rumours of this in changeling circles - cold water, freezing you, dropping your body temperature... But he'd never believed it. Just avoided it out of cautiousness. It seems to be true, though - the heat his body has to generate while in this form, like a furnace - it can't cope with the sudden drop, the energy needed to swim... His body's shutting down, denying him the ability to change back...!

Mouth full of water and eyes wide and bulging, he reaches his clawed hand out to Sam, pleading for help.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Propped up on one elbow, Sam stares right back at the beast, watches how he goes under again and again, sees the claws reaching out for him...

And slowly... it dawns on him. The monster - Edwards - can't get out. He can't swim. The river has already carried him further downstream, away from the bridge.... away from Sam.

Sam remains frozen in place - there is no space for conscious thought in his mind right now, he has to stay where he is, watching the scene unfold... watching the inevitable happen....*
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Gene Hunt
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*Edwards realises Sam isn't going to move... he's already further away, the river having dragged Edwards further into the current. There's nothing he can do. His muscles scream with the cold, his nose and mouth fill with water. The roar from his mouth turns bubbly and choked - and then he's gone. The water swallows him, leaving no trace.

Edwards is no more.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*One last roar...

... then, silence, save for Sam's own panting breath.

Sam remains where he is for God knows how long, lying on the ground half twisted, staring at the river, now calm again. No trace of what just happened, save for the massive skid-marks...

Then, Sam begins to shake. The adrenaline is subsiding slowly, leaving him in cold shock. Edwards is dead. He nearly got Sam, and now - now he's dead. Drowned.

But it was so close. So... bloody.. close......

Shivering with exhaustion and shock, Sam presses his forehead into the ground, gulping down a hysteric sob that tries to force its way out. His body is starting to throb all over, head dizzy, lungs burning like lava; even his scars are twinging in the wake of the mortal fear that had been running through him just minutes ago.

Finally, Sam realises - he has to go. He has to find Gene before it's too late. Jesus Christ, he has to find him.... He begins to pull himself up, his hands almost slipping. His shirt and trousers are caked in mud, and his face must be too, but Sam couldn't care less - Edwards never told him where they had Gene... but Sam hasn't been idle over the last few days. He's found out that, apart from the club, Warren doesn't actually own any larger buildings in or around the city. So if he's going to try and - and skin a werewolf, it's going to have to be at the club. Maybe Joni--

Sam's thoughts are interrupted as he tries to stand up and puts weight on his bad leg - searing pain shoots up from his ankle, and he collapses again with a groan. He must've - he didn't realise at the time, but he must've caught that foot, which caused him to stumble... and at the speed he had been going... shit, shit!

Sam tries again, more careful this time, and thank God, he manages to limp on. He must've just sprained it - it can't be broken. It can't.

Somehow, Sam makes it to his car. Once there, he sits in it for a few minutes, unable to do anything but catch his breath. He can't think about what just happened. He can't think about the panic - the sight of the monster - and---

He presses his hands against his face, takes a deep, shuddering breath. He has to go. Gene needs him.

Finally, Sam guns the engine. The moment he presses down the pedal, his ankle protests, but this time, Sam bites his lip and ignores it. He has no choice. It's so late in the day already - if he calls back up now, they might end up seeing Gene in his changed form... And that would mean the end of everything. He has to do this on his own.

--

Back at the club, the door to Gene's prison is thrown open without warning. But there are no taunts this time, just efficient hands - unhooking the lead from the wall, but not from the collar around Gene's neck. Next, there's a sharp tug - a clear command to get moving.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene doesn't sleep - it's impossible to. Every hour that goes by, he knows he's getting closer and closer to transforming - and therefore the horror that awaits him afterwards. Tick tock, tick tock, every second that passes, another second of his life gone.

The ropes bite into his wrists whenever he tries to adjust himself, hands gone numb from the inactivity and awkward position of his arms. The lead and the collar prevent him from finding any comfortable position, his sore, bruised throat contracting whenever he pulls too hard. Over the course of the night he's twisted and pulled, wriggled and yanked, trying to loosen up his bonds even just a single bit - if he can get a hand free then he can get this damned hood off and finally see what he's dealing with. But all he succeeds in doing is rubbing his skin raw. Nothing can be done.

As morning rolls around, his stomach growls. He's desperately thirsty too, but it's not like Warren needs him hydrated or fed in order to kill him.

Noon, and Gene can only tell the time by the pains and empty ache in his stomach. The blood from his split lip has dried, smeared across his cheek and clinging to the bag still over his head. He wonders where Sam is - whether he's realised what's happened yet. Is he asking around the office? What's he upto right now? In the canteen maybe, chatting with Cartwright? Has he been out looking for Gene? The thought sends a wave of complete sadness through Gene, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

Hours more pass and Gene starts to feel the panic again. It's getting close - he can feel that familiar ache in his bones, a ghost memory of what's to come. Like a big bass drum, Gene's heart hammers, his body trembling with both exhaustion and fear. It must be late afternoon by now...

He almost jumps out of his skin (wouldn't that save some trouble!) as the door suddenly slams open and the footsteps approach. No jokes this time, so it can't be Edwards...

There's a sharp tug at his collar, causing him to choke - he's supposed to get up, he can tell that - but he couldn't even if he wanted to, hands bound behind his back as they are. Faltering, Gene tries weakly to push himself onto his knees, but it's slow going.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*There's another tug, and then an annoyed huff. It's obvious that the DCI won't be able to get up on his own... and he can't be killed, not just yet. He's made it up to his knees, somehow, but this is too slow. Mr Warren will get impatient.

The pressure on the lead lets up, and a moment later, a strong hand winds itself around Gene's upper arm, and pulls him up without much care. That should do it...*
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Gene Hunt
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*Huffing with the effort of trying to push himself to his feet, Gene isn't ready for the hand on him, pulling him up like a rag doll. Part of him wants to go limp - make a stand, refuse to comply. But another part of him knows that to do that will only bring more pain. It's clear now where he's headed, and he has no doubt that he'll end up there whether he decides to follow orders or not.

So, with as much effort has he can muster, Gene uses the leverage to help him get his legs underneath him. After all night awkwardly propped up between the floor and the wall, his muscles feel like hardened rubber - stiff and inflexible.

But once standing, he doesn't know where he's supposed to be going. In his mind he's stood in an endless black void, no idea of the size, shape or look of the room. Hooded and cuffed, he can do nothing but growl pitifully.*

Don't s'pose you're takin' me for a Maccy D's...?
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*There is no reply - clearly whoever is with Gene isn't in the mood for banter, or indeed any other kind of interaction. No comment on how the DCI is wobbly on his feet, how he looks nothing like the mighty Gene Hunt at the moment.

Instead, footsteps begin to move away, and a second later the lead begins to insistently tug again. Gene is going to have to start to move.*
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Gene Hunt
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*The lack of response makes Gene's stomach sink. Nothing for him to rally against, no conversation. Whoever this is, they're treating him like he's already dead. Just an object.

Gritting his teeth, he takes a shaky step, following the pull around his neck. If he doesn't he'll just topple over forwards, and he doesn't really fancy that on top of everything else. Moving is already hard enough.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The man leads Gene down the hallway, around a corner... And gradually, the space around them heats up a little. They must be entering an area that's at least slightly lived in.

The pressure on the lead remains constant, though the man isn't going out of his way to hurry Gene along any more than he already is.

Finally, the sound of another door opening. Gene is led into a room that's brightly lit and definitely larger than the one he'd been dumped in earlier. The footsteps stop.*
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Gene Hunt
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*In a daze, Gene follows wherever he's led. Even if he broke free, where would he run? He can't see, he can't open any doors... He'd be set upon within an instant.

The slow, gradual temperature change registers in his mind as they walk - the hairs on his arms prickle at the sensation, his skin having grown cold over the night spent in his cell. The warmth is welcome, but at the same time Gene can't help but feel it's symbolic - like he's walking himself straight into the mouth of hell.

As the pressure around his throat fades, he stumbles to a halt. What's happening? They've stopped...

Still trembling slightly in suspense, Gene concentrates on breathing. Keeping himself upright. Dignified as he waits for whatever comes next.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*A bit of fiddling, the lead is raised - and remains like that, gently swinging against the bag over Gene's head. It must have been tied off somewhere above Gene.

Then, a growled warning. "Don't try anything stupid."

Without waiting for a reply, the man - now stood behind Gene - flicks open a knife and begins to saw at the ropes binding Gene's wrists together, a few seconds later, they fall away.*
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Gene Hunt
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*A lump begins to beat in Gene's throat, hard against the collar pressed there. The lead's been tied off somewhere above him, that he can feel... But the sawing at the ropes holding his hands - he can't not take an opportunity like this. If he didn't try something he'd never forgive himself. If this was his last chance and he didn't take it-!

Gene doesn't wait. As soon as his hands are free and he's still relatively sure of where the man's standing behind him, Gene bends his arm and jabs it backwards, hitting something solid and warm with a satisfying thump.

Heart in his mouth and adrenaline buzzing through his entire body, Gene throws his hands up to the collar round his neck and pulls on it hard, trying to find the buckle to undo it. To get rid of the hood, to look for an exit! He pulls forward, the lead stopping his movements - it feels like being in a damn noose! Panicking now, he tears at the hessian bag over his face, desperate to get it off.*

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*There's a choked off "oof" from behind Gene, a few footsteps stumbling away, then coughing.

But the man recovers quickly, and he isn't pleased. With a curse, he rounds up on Gene again, ignoring his valiant efforts to break free. Just as the hessian seems to be loosening up a bit, sliding out of the collars grasp, a first buries itself in Gene's midriff.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene can feel it shifting.... a glimmer of light shines from somewhere near his chin - just a little more and he'll be able to see--!

One punch and Gene's winded, his legs losing all strength and his head spinning. He goes down, still attached by the collar. All at once Gene's knees hit the ground while the collar snaps upwards, the leash reaching its limit.

With a gasp, Gene claws at the collar once again - he's practically hanging. He's practically being hanged. Jesus, help him up, someone help him up--!!*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*It takes a few seconds before Gene is pulled up by his arm, an annoyed growl in his ear, "Bloody told you..."

It's then that the door to this room opens again - someone else enters. And that someone gives a soft gasp - not quite loud enough to give away their identity - then they move closer, fiddle with something...

And there's the click and unmistakable sound of a camera flash going off.*
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Gene Hunt
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*A pressure around his arm and then suddenly he can breathe again. Coughing and gasping, Gene practically slumps into the man holding him, unable to stand without swaying. Stars burst in front of his eyes, lungs burning as they try to take in as much air as possible. He can't... he can't take this any more... Enough.... Please...!

The sound of a camera flash is familiar enough to Gene from documenting crime scenes that he has no doubt what that noise was - but at this point, he's beyond caring. Let them take all the photos they want - he's just overjoyed and terrified to still be alive.*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The second person who has entered remains silent for now, though the man who's still got his hands on Gene's arms murmurs, "Sir."

He isn't audibly acknowledged, but moment later, his grip on Gene lets up, and Gene is left to keep himself upright on his own.

Then, a different kind of touch. Long fingers, first stroking along the collar... Then, Gene's coat is being lifted off his shoulders. The touch is almost... Gentle.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene has to concentrate hard to keep himself upright as the hold on him lets up, another chance presenting itself. But the memory of the last few minutes freezes him in place. That collar is still on him - if he moves, he'll end up like he was a moment ago and jesus christ he can't--!

Then he feels it. Fingers, tracing along the collar as though he's something precious - as though whoever's stood in front of him is admiring the sight of it, digging into his skin. Gene's breath catches at the thought, disgust welling up inside him.

Using all of his willpower, Gene stays still as the heavy weight of his coat shifts, the sleeves running down his arms.

He twitches. The person stood in front of him. He knows who it must be. And he's not going to move, not just yet. Gene stays frozen, like a coiled spring, the collar rubbing painfully against his adam's apple as he swallows down his emotions.

Not just yet....*
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*The coat is gone now. There's the rustle of cloth - possibly the coat being folded up fairly carefully, heeled boots stepping away a few feet.

At the same time, however, a strong hand grabs Gene's right wrist, bringing it up and to the side at an angle. Again there's rustling, sliding, then the unmistakable texture if rope, being wound around Gene's wrist. Once the man is done, Gene's arm stays up. And the same is going to happen to his other wrist in a moment, no doubt.... *
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene keeps his fist balled in defiance as the stong hands tie and hoist his wrist up at an angle. It doesn't take much brainpower to work out what position they're working him into. He grits his teeth. Why should he just be accepting this!? He didn't ask for this! This 'being treated like an object' bullshit - Warren has no claim over him for god's sake!!

He can't help himself - at the end of his rag, Gene pulls against his trapped wrist, swinging his free arm out in an attempt to grab onto Warren's shirt front. The least he can do is show Warren that he's still here, still fighting - that he hasn't broken him!

But.... With no idea that Warren's moved away, his fingers slip through the air and grasp at nothing. Shit...!*

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Sam Tyler
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*Gene's sudden act of defiance prompts a soft laugh - Warren's laugh. A moment later, Gene's free wrist is caught in the other man's hand, and is yanked up with considerably more force than before. Clearly that man is getting tired of Gene's attempts to break free, or at least make things harder for them...

It takes only a few seconds for Gene's other wrist to be secure at the same angle in the opposing direction. He's strung up now, stretched out as far as his body allows.

Once again, there's the sound of a camera flash going off - three times in total, from different points in the room.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene pulls against the hand on his arm, but he's too weak to make any difference. His arm is forced up, his shoulders crack as the ropes are pulled tight. He grunts in pain as his muscles adjust to this new upright position, the extreme opposite of how he's spent the last almost twenty-four hours. The sudden immobilisation sparks off that fear again - he's pinned up and spread out, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

Then the camera again... it's almost laughable. Why the hell would Warren want to photograph this!?

Voice little more than a rasp, Gene shouts into the air*

Havin'... Havin' fun are you!? Bunch of... bloody pervs....
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Sam Tyler
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*"Oh yes, you're giving us quite the show, Mr Hunt." That's Warren's silky voice.

Footsteps, coming closer to Gene - the collar's buckle being undone. Then, very suddenly, the hessian is finally pulled off Gene's head exposing him to the light and air around him.

Warren is stood in front of him, smiling almost amicably. The collar is still in his hands, still open - ready to be used again.

And... Gene will realise that he's strung up not just in the middle of the room, but in the middle of a cage.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Warren--!

There're hands on the collar and then all of a sudden it's off - he can breathe...

The relief doesn't last long though. The material scrapes over his head and the light hits his eyes like needles from a gun - Gene flinches away as far as he can, blinking furiously against the beams.

And slowly his vision clears. Like a camera gradually adjusting focus the figure in front of him comes into view.

Warren.

Gene stares at him for a moment, fury burning behind his eyes - but then he notices precisely where he is. Jesus Christ, what is this!? A cage!? His eyes flick back to Warren and the collar in his hands.

With a snarl, Gene pushes forward against his bonds. If Warren's thinking about using that again--!*

Don't you dare!
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren's smile widens a little.

"Or what? You'll bite me? Arrest me?" His eyes wander over Gene, as though assessing his capability of going through with the unspoken threat.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren isn't prepared for this - he does turn his head to the side in an attempt to dodge, but the spit lands on his temple.

He is still for a moment - then, Warren exhales with a sigh. He lets go of the collar, letting it dangle in the air next to Gene's face, and reaches into the side pocket of his jacket, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Really, now..." he mutters, starting to clean the side of his face.

Then, entirely without warning, his other hand - adorned with a large bejeweled ring - shoots up and he lands a backhand right across Gene's face.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Teeth bared in a furious snarl, Gene watches as Warren exhales and reaches for a handkerchief - and in that small moment, Gene feels a swell of pride. It's not much... But he has to take momentary pleasure in being an inconvenience. And by the quiet, measured movements Warren is making in wiping his face, it looks like Gene really did at least make him feel disgust.

But then the move he should have been expecting - Gene's head snaps forcefully to the side, a line of fire across his cheek. Still low on energy, his knee gives out and he hangs from his wrists, gasping with the force. But he has to recover.

Recover, dammit! Get back up!

Gritting his teeth, Gene steadies himself. There's a dripping down his cheek - he can feel it, warm and wet - his right arm twitches on impulse, his instinct to wipe the back of his hand against the gash. But he can't.

Breathing heavily, Gene turns back to Warren, pure anger in his eyes.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren watches Gene with sharp eyes - and he can't deny it, the fact that Hunt is fighting back gives him pleasure. From what Charlie had said, he'd seemed rather desolate... But it seems there still is some fight left in him after all.

Good.

As Gene's eyes focus on him once more, Warren smiles a tight-lipped smile.

"Shall we try this again? Hm?"

And he raises the collar up, as if ready to put it back around Gene's neck.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene doesn't even look at the collar this time. He just focuses on Warren, staring into his eyes with a hatred he's never felt before. The kind of hatred that feels like it could burst from his chest and strike the man down dead where he stands.

Jaw aching all down that one side and the drip-drip of blood running down his jawline, Gene warns through gritted teeth,*

Just you try it.
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren raises and eyebrow.

"We still have a few hours to go, Mr Hunt - do you really want to start off on such bad footing? Anything that happens to you now won't matter much once the time comes..."

The threat is clear. Warren doesn't mind disfiguring Gene further - to the contrary.*
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Gene Hunt
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*A visible shudder runs through Gene as he takes in the threat. He's completely at the man's mercy. Or at least his body is. With the collar off, Gene's fear is slowly being completely eaten by complete fury at the injustice of it all. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't just want to disappear off the face of the earth, leaving his friends behind with no idea of his fate. He didn't even get to say goodbye to Sam for christ's sake.

Trembling with a combination of rage and dread, Gene keeps the look on his face. Warren won't break him. He can do what he wants.

After all. He'll be dead in a few hours. Warren said it as much.*

You come near me with that thing again, I'll break your shittin' nose.
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Sam Tyler
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*Oh, that is interesting. Warren wouldn't have thought that Hunt would have THIS much fight left in him.

He tuts, shaking his head a little.

"You may have been a decent enough copper, but lately, your obedience has been dropping significantly... Not exactly what I would call a 'good boy'."

He shrugs with mock regret - then, lightning fast, he buries his first in Gene' s gut.*
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Gene Hunt
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*For a moment, Gene blacks out - just for a second. Then he's retching, coughing, muscles contracting and trying to force him to double over - but the ropes hold him fast. Gulping and gasping for breath, Gene drops his head and lets out a raw sound of pain.

Jesus, his stomach.... the fire burning inside it... something must be bleeding in there... he couldn't have imagined a pain like this...

Any more of this and he's going to die right here. Wouldn't that be just hilarious. If he dies now, Warren will have shot himself in the foot.

Shaking all over, Gene turns his whimper into a crazed-sounding chuckle. At this point, dying before he changes is the best scenario he can think of.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Before Warren moves in, he can't help but admire his handiwork. Hunt looks absolutely wrecked - shaking, retching... How he's been looking forward to this.

And now, finally, he's able to safely step up to Gene and refasten the collar. There... Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And then, that chuckle...

Once again, Warren's eyebrows raise.

"Oh dear... Losing your mind already?"
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Gene Hunt
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*The collar - it's back. He can feel it as Warren tugs it tight.

He tried his best...

.... He failed.

A cracked smile sits broadly across Gene's face as he forces his gaze back up to face Warren. Voice raw, Gene speaks slowly and with as much mirth as he can muster.*

If I get loose..... I swear to god.... I'm gonna rip you into tiny pieces.... I'm gonna take that sick black mop of yours and I'm gonna turn it into a bloody toilet scrub...

*As Gene goes on, the forcedly amused tone begins to turn sour. Threatening.*

If you'd face me like a man, one on one - I'd be gouging that filthy tongue of yours out and shoving it so far up your arse--!

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Sam Tyler
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*Warren watches as Hunt rambles on. His threats would be that much more believable if he still had some strength left... But he's finished, hanging in his bonds, barely able to stand in his own.

Still... If he keeps delaying Warren like that, with his futile little actions, Warren won't be able to do all the things he's planned...

Time to drop the next bomb.

Not really seeming bothered by Gene's words, Warren crosses his arms.

"You might want to watch your tone... Gene. We'll have a special guest joining us later on, you see..." He takes a few steps to the left, just about staying in Gene's field of vision. "He might end up having to pay the price for your little insolences."

He glances back at Gene, gauging whether or not he's getting Warren's message.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene's face drops.

What....

'Special guest'....?

Gene's blood runs icy cold. Someone else is here. Someone he obviously cares about. A 'he'. Chris? Ray? ..... Sam....?

And 'joining us later' - to what? To watch? To watch him turn? No, no.... Nobody can see that....

'Pay the price for his insolence'.... Whatever he does, it could be taken out on--

Shit, no - not someone else. This was never about someone else. This is about him - this is about Gene! Nobody else can get hurt--!

Warren, what have you done...

It takes a good ten seconds for Gene to look at Warren again, the desire to do harm completely melted away. All that's left is horror and the thin, terrified voice that comes from his lips.*

......... You... You utter bastard....

.... Why....!



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Sam Tyler
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*Oh, but that is... Absolutely delicious. Watching the cogs wir away in Hunt's mind, watching him come to the realisation... Understanding what Warren implied...

Casual as you like, Warren walks over to a table that's stood by the opposite wall, containing more rope and several knives, among other things. He picks up one of the knives - sharp, with an elaborate floral design to its handle. Turning it in his hand for a few moments, as though admiring the handiwork, Warren says, "Because it was your man who started all this."

He looks over at Gene, smiling mildly, though his gaze remains sharp. "Only fair that he gets to see the whole show, I'd say."
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene shakes his head, just barely.

It's Sam. No doubt. They have Sam and Warren's going to make him watch as he-- Gene feels utterly sick.

Sam was traumatised enough by Edwards... And if he sees Gene transform... And then...

His gaze shifts over to the table, adorned with ropes, knives, pliers... Fuck, this is real. This is really happening.

As he looks back at Warren caressing the decorated knife like a precious stone, the pain Gene feels starts to turn into despair. Suddenly it does matter what happens to him before he's killed - because Sam'll see the evidence of it. Sam'll feel responsible, Warren's make sure of that.

His eyes flick back down to the blade in Warren's hands, suddenly hugely more threatening than before. Gene chokes.*

..... Don't. Don't show 'im. Have your fun with me, whatever you've got planned... Just...

Don't let' im see me turn...
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren laughs softly.

"Oh, Mr Hunt, I don't think you're in any position to make demands, do you?"

He eyes Gene, then, apparently making a decision, puts down the knife - and picks up the camera instead. The photos are intended for potential clients, but that doesn't mean that Warren isn't going to keep a few for his personal collection as well...!

A click, a flash, and it's done - Gene Hunt's defeat, documented in all its glory. The cut across his cheek is especially alluring...!

And now, it's time for the first step...

Warren picks up the same knife again and walks over to Gene, his eyes glinting with purpose.

"Your man will see what happens to you in full detail, you can be sure of that," he says in a conversational, almost agreeable tone as he begins to undo Gene's tie.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene blinks in the face of the flash, mortified. His defeat, his downfall, the end of his time on earth, all captured in a tiny polaroid, no more significant than a holiday snap.

At the sight of the knife approaching, Gene can't help trying to back up, arms shaking as the ropes prevent motion. With Sam now in the mix, there's a renewed urge to avoid harm - to not give Warren any more satisfaction than he's already getting. To avoid showing his pain at any cost.

Gene swallows hard against the collar as Warren reaches up and starts to pull his tie undone. The only people who've reached up to unloop his tie before have been in a bedroom setting. And Warren's so close now, hands unwinding the fabric around Gene's collarbones, face close but just out of reach. The intimacy of it makes Gene shudder.

Needing to lash out once more, the only threat he has left-*

Not if I hold my breath. Off myself right here and now. What'll that cost you? Small fortune, I bet.
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Sam Tyler
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*Sliding the tie out from underneath Gene's collar, Warren lets it fall to the ground almost carelessly. The coat he wants to keep as a trophy... Everything else doesn't matter.

He looks almost bored as he begins to undo the buttons of Gene's shirt. It may not show in his expression, but inwardly, Warren is enjoying every second he gets to exert this kind of power over Gene. What he's been doing during the last few years was very satisfying... But this, right now? There's nothing like that feeling of direct, unbreakable power.

And he knows an empty threat when he hears one.

"You don't have it in you." It's a stated fact. "You don't take the coward's way out."*
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Gene Hunt
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*Shit... Warren can read him like a book. Though seeing him so confident in his statement, Gene wonders whether he really could do it. If it saves him and Sam from the worst of what Warren's got planned...

Warren moves onto Gene's shirt buttons, and as his hands knock against him, Gene doesn't know how Warren can't feel his heart beating right through his bruised ribcage. Why is he even doing this? Humiliation? A canvas to use that knife on? There isn't one outcome that could be pleasant...*

To screw up your seedy little plans? You so sure about that?
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Sam Tyler
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*This time, Warren merely glances up at him, a smug, knowing glint in his eyes. Hunt won't do it. End of story.

But just in case...

Finishing with the buttons, he pats Gene's chest through his vest, momentarily feeling the man's rapid heartbeat. Christ but he can't get enough of that...!

"Just remember that whatever you do, it won't be just you who will bear the consequences."

Warren takes a step back at this, gripping the knife properly and eyeing Gene, as though trying to decide what to do next - or where to start...*
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Gene Hunt
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*Warren's hand flat on his chest makes Gene jump again, an involuntary jerk, a subconscious urge to get away! But Warren's threat echoes in his ears. If he tries to headbutt Warren now, it could be Sam who suffers...

The breath of relief never comes when Warren steps away, either. His eyes are roaming Gene's body as though he's running through his options. Trying to make a decision. And the way Warren's grip adjusts around the knife... Gene can feel the blood drain even further from his face.*

... Don't think you'll get away scot free with this... The station'll be all over you... Disappearance of a DCI? They'll be tearing up your ruddy floorboards...!
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren gives a small shrug.

"You underestimate my influence, Gene... And even if it comes to that," he smiles a little, "there won't be a body to find."

And with that, it seems that he's finally come to a decision. Warren moves over to Gene's right arm, taking a hold of the shirt's cuff. Holding it almost delicately, he places the knife's blade at its edge.

"You might want to hold still, now..."

And he begins to cut open the sleeve, drawing a straight line down it, right to the point where it joins the main body of cloth... And then, with a sudden, swift motion he completes the destruction, drawing the blade past the buttons. The shirt slides off Gene's arm and torso, now only held in place by the other, unharmed sleeve.*
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Gene Hunt
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*As the air hits his skin, Gene shivers again. It feels like Warren's already tearing layers of his skin from him - first his coat, then his tie and now his ruined shirt... His uniform, his pride - it's now hanging from one arm, shredded.

This fake air of delicacy, as well - the light touches, the careful slide of the blade - somehow it twists Gene's insides up more than if Warren just stuck him and got on with it.*

Or what? I might get cut? *he snorts nervously* Wouldn't that be a shame!

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Sam Tyler
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*"Wouldn't it be indeed." Warren smiles the same mild smile as before, setting to work on the other sleeve.

One long, careful slice - and Gene's shirt falls to the ground with a soft rustle.

Warren takes a step back, again as though to admire how far he has gotten.

"You do strike a good figure like this. I've been imagining what it would be like..."

And, for the first time, a real, cruel smile appears on his lips.

"You're exceeding my expectations so far."*
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Gene Hunt
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*The smile on Warren's face is like a knife in Gene's stomach.

Just the vest left across his torso now... One thin piece of cotton separating him from the menace in front of him. One piece of fabric covering the skin that Warren so desperately wants for his own...

It dawns on Gene that the next thing Warren'll be slicing off of him will be a part of himself.*

Glad I could be of service. Hopefully you give yerself a bleedin' heart attack when you put the damn photos in your little wank bank!
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren's expression doesn't falter - Gene has zero leverage. His words don't even touch Warren.

"What a splendid idea," he says, smile widening. With just a few steps, Warren is back at the table, exchanging the knife for the camera. He steps up right in front of Gene, the flash going off without warning. He's got so many rolls of film ready... he can afford to take a few more pictures than planned.

Another one from a different angle, and then it's back to the knife.

This time, Warren places the blade right in the middle of Gene's collarbone - and keeps it there, the steel gently pressing against Gene's skin. It's not enough pressure to break the skin... not quite.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Shit.

As Warren picks up the camera, Gene curses himself for being so stupid. The flash goes off and all Gene can do is turn his face away. Refuse to let Warren catch his expression. If Warren's stripping Gene of even his words then this is the only action Gene can take. Then the footsteps - the sound of metal scraping against wood as Warren picks the knife back up. Preparing himself, Gene drops his head and takes a shaky breath.

Come on, Gene... Be brave...

Cold biting pressure right over his collarbone - Holding his breath, Gene raises his head to glare at Warren, chin jutted out defiantly.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren gazes right back into Gene's green eyes, drinking in the fear he sees there, badly hidden behind what's left of his false bravado.

Never breaking eye contact, he starts to pull the knife down. The blade is sharp enough to easily part the cotton as it goes - and Warren is working with enough precision to keep Gene's skin intact.

For now.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene's eyes twitch as the blade starts to travel downwards, catching on the top of his vest and then sliding through it as it goes. It doesn't escape Gene that this is probably the exact motion Warren'll be making later - the exact same cut, but deeper and with more force.

If Gene wasn't trying so hard, he'd crumble completely.

Face taut and jaw clenched, Gene stays frozen - that knife is sharp, and any wrong move could result in blood.*
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*As the vest comes apart, Warren delivers another two, shorter and more energetic cuts - and the vest falls away as well, landing in a heap behind Gene's feet.

Again, Warren takes a step back. There he is... Hunt, exposed to him like this. His abdomen is bruised, red and blue and black patches spreading across his side... Charlie really didn't hold back. Good thing none of this will show once Hunt changes...

Warren steps closer again, eyes on the bruises across Gene's ribcage. He tuts lightly. "That looks uncomfortable."

He reaches out - and presses his hand against Gene's ribcage, right into the most discoloured patch. *
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Gene Hunt
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*And there it is. The last piece of clothing Gene'll ever have worn on his top half, gone. Now he's laid bare, exposed and helpless in front of his captor. Whatever Warren does next, he doesn't have the clothing to distract him. Gene's throat constricts at the thought, the collar still tight around his neck.

Warren steps closer, eyeing the bruised and battered body in front of him, and Gene can see it in his face - something's about to happen. Something...

That comment.

Then that hand - reaching out, touching his skin. Pressing in.

Gene's body jerks, flinching away from the touch - the pain spreads like fire, making his skin crawl, the ropes sawing into his wrists as he tries to get away!

Without meaning to, Gene lets out a half-choked shout.*

Aaagh!
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Sam Tyler
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*Gene's shout of pain sounds like music to Warren's ears. The way he tries to get away, even when it's completely fruitless... Beautiful.

Warren keeps pressing for another few seconds before letting up, crossing his hands behind his back.

"Broken, I'd say." He says it with slight admiration - Charlie certainly knows how to prepare Warren's victims for him, even if he is sometimes heavy handed...

... Which reminds him. Shouldn't Charlie have been back by now...? He glances over to the door at the other end of the room, but it remains closed.*
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*Gene gasps for air as Warren removes his hand, sagging against the ropes holding his wrists. The pain rolls against him in waves, shooting across his ribs and his middle.

Breathe through it, Gene... breathe through it....!!

An involuntary sob leaves Gene's throat, head dropped down towards the ground. No tears, thankfully. He's holding them in with all his might. He can't stay like this... not until he changes. He can act all big and tough, but nobody can deal with this.*
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*The sob brings Warren's attention back to Gene, and a sudden smile to his face. He's so close, then... So close to breaking the man. He's dreamed of this.

"So." Warren gets right up close to Gene again, twirling the knife in his fingers. "I suppose it's only fair to tell you what's going to happen to you."

Warren places his hand on the bruise again - not pressing, but the threat is very clear. Either Gene plays along, or.... *
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*Gene doesn't raise his head as Warren steps closer, knife twirling and glinting just in his range of vision. He needs to compose himself. Get the pain under control, stop himself from sinking too far. He won't look at Warren, he can't.

Then Warren's hand is against his ribs again - gently resting against the skin, ready to unleash the agony again...

Breathing heavily, Gene screws his eyes shut and tries to ignore Warren. Don't look at him. Don't look at that glinting blade, just retreat. Block it out.*
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Sam Tyler
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*Oh, he's trying so hard. And whatever people might say about him, Warren appreciates a good effort.

So he continues, his voice low and smooth, "I'll put a silver bullet in you. Soon. It won't kill you, don't you worry yourself. Not very quickly, at any rate."

The pressure on Gene's ribs increases slightly.

"Once you are dead, may God rest your soul, I shall proceed to skin you."

At this, Warren once again places the blade against Gene's skin - at the same spot.

"I want to preserve your beautiful fur perfectly... So i will start... here."

The knife sinks into Gene's skin, and Warren begins to pull it down. Slowly. Steadily. Without mercy.*
Edited by Sam Tyler, Oct 18 2016, 02:02 PM.
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene screws his eyes shut tighter as Warren's hand presses in again marginally - don't make that noise again, don't--

-- The bullet won't kill... Then what--

Thoughts race through Gene's mind at a million miles an hour. He's going to be skinned. Warren's going to split him open and-- he knew it already, but to hear it from Warren's own mouth, it feels real - it feels like's going to happen.

Then the blade, between his collarbones again.

"So I will start here"

No.... no no no NO--!

The knife sinks in, starts to pull down, cutting into Gene like soft butter. He wants to scream, but to do so would surely push the knife in further. To wriggle and pull on his wrists would surely rip jagged lines into his chest...

All these acknowledgements don't matter though. Gene's body responds on its own. He whimpers, chest heaving, shoulders quaking.

Don't, don't, don't--!!*
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*Those whimpers are even better than screams. Hunt is trying so hard, so hard to be brave, to be strong. It won't matter in the end, but right now, it's the best show Warren could have imagined.

He draws the blade right down to the edge of Gene's trousers, watching as blood begins to ooze from the cut. Then he looks up, taking in the agony, the despair etched into Gene's expression.

"Hurts, doesn't it." His voice is so soft it's barely audible over Gene's ragged breathing.*
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*The knife just keeps on going, slicing down, down, down his sternum, to the top of his stomach and surely he'll stop there, he has to stop there--!!

But, tip buried in Gene's flesh, Warren continues to slowly drag downwards - over the top of Gene's stomach and--

Oh god no, please no... Images of his abdomen splitting open hammer through Gene's mind - his breaths are coming shorter and more desperate, his head swimming in intoxicating panic.

The line of fire continues over his belly button, the hot, wet blood from above already dripping down and giving Warren a line to follow, right to meet his trousers. And there, thankfully, it stops. Please, no more... Please let that be it, please...!

"Hurts, doesn't it."

Gene wants to thrash, wants to kick out at Warren, to mouth off and shout his answer. But the blood is soaking into his trousers now, soaking through to his skin. He can feel the cut - the line Warren has drawn, blueprints marking where he'll later dig deeper and saw through Gene like a piece of meat.

Unable to form words, Gene hears instead a sound of anguish and pain accompanied by a pain in his restricted vocal cords. He's sobbing again. And this time it's justified.*

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Sam Tyler
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*He's done it. Hunt is quiet, save for the sobs and whimpers.

He's broken the great DCI.

Warren grins widely, leaning in slowly, until his mouth is close to Hunt's ear.

"Remember who caused this. It was your man."

He brings the knife up again, placing it it at the same point again - this time, angling to go up to Gene's right shoulder.

"DI Sam Tyler rocked the boat. You failed to control him."

He presses the blade in again.

"Tyler is responsible for this. Every... Little.... Cut."

The blade slides up.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Warren's breath huffs over Gene's ear, hot and damp. If he's had the strength from earlier, he'd turn and bite - try to cause any damage he can to Warren - get revenge - but he's lost his fight. He's lost in the feel of the knife, tracing and retracing then line down his front - the fingers in his mind digging, pulling - it isn't happening, but he can feel it... it's going to happen...

The words sting almost as much. Tyler. Sam. Warren's blaming Sam for this.

Sam who tried so hard to look after him when he'd come down with that migraine - who figured out what was going on with the cigarettes - who made him promise to stop smoking them. Who held his hand and promised him they'd fix all this...

But in a way Warren's right... If Sam hadn't been so stubborn then--

He forces himself to stop. No, he can't think that. This is Warren. This is ALL Warren!

Then Gene feels the blade for real. Between his collarbones. Again.

Tears well up in Gene's eyes. No more... Please...

It digs in, moves - up in a diagonal, digging out a line towards his shoulder.

Voice shaky and faltering, Gene rasps.*

S-stop....!!
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Warren lifts the knife away - only to set it back down at the same spot once more. His voice is like honey when he croons into Gene's ear, "That's what you should have told Tyler."

He cuts the next line, up to Gene's left shoulder this time. Are those tears he can see gathering in Hunt's eyes? If they are, he's determined to make them roll.

" Too late now."
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Gene Hunt
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*The blood trickles down Gene's side, running along the lines of his muscles, his ribs...

And just when he'd hoped it was over, the knife comes back to rest in the middle again. That same spot.

Gene lets out a shaky, quaking breath before holding it in again - he knows what comes next. Symmetry.

One rebellious tear dropping from his eyes, Gene hisses a reply, using the sickening pain carving into his left shoulder to fuel the volume of his voice just above a whisper.*

I did... I d-did...!

I told 'im--!

*He stifles a hiccuping noise of pain, continuing his plea.*

I did everythin'... Everythin' you asked...
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Warren almost sighs with pleasure - almost. Hunt is crying. He can't help but go along with Warren now. Perfect, utterly perfect.

Warren finishes the third line, lifting the knife away slowly.

Then he whispers into Gene's ear, "It wasn't enough."

Warren takes a step back - and oh, the sight that presents itself to him is priceless. Hunt is all but hanging in his bonds, the bleeding cuts beautifully mirroring the man's pose. It's almost art.

He returns to the desk, placing the knife down and picking up the camera once more. He takes his time, walking around Gene, looking for the perfect angle. Again, these are not just for clients - they're going to be memorabili,to remind Warren of the powerful feeling that's coursing through him. *
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Gene Hunt
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*The knife lifts from Gene's skin, leaving him hanging there, shaking and bleeding, a second tear running down his cheek. In his own mind he looks like a carcass hanging in the butcher's window, angled to show off what's up for grabs. Looking down, he sees the cuts, the deep engraved Y-shape.

When he transforms, will it heal? Does he have enough energy for that? Or will he merely tear himself open with the force?

The knife clatters down onto the table and Gene hears the sound of plastic. The camera again. A sudden pang of shame hits him. He must look so pathetic. And Warren's going to get to relive this, every day. His mutilated humiliation, on display.

Gene screws his eyes shut again, breathing through the pain as best as he can. His arms burn, his wrists are on fire - there's a sharp stabbing pain in his side and stomach and of course the cuts sear and sting. And then there's that damned collar, making him feel claimed. Warren's pet.

As the footsteps circle, Gene doesn't look up. He doesn't want to give Warren the opportunity to catch his face in a photo. Not now. Not now he's so clearly lost the fight.*

There... There was nothing, was there. Right from the start. Nothing would've been enough. You were... You were planning this all along....
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*"Hmm."

One last photo, then Warren takes the camera back to the table. Next, he cleans the knife, removing the blood with a piece of cloth.

"It's true - from the moment you interfered with Charlie... I wasn't pleased."

Slowly, he returns to Gene's side.

"But you continued to mollycoddle him. I mean, inviting Tyler into your home? Looking after him for weeks?"

He pats Gene's cheek lightly.

"If that wasn't rebellion... I couldn't have it, Gene, I simply couldn't."*
Edited by Sam Tyler, Oct 18 2016, 05:30 PM.
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene swallows dryly as he hears the metallic sound again - a slight wet squeak as his blood is rubbed from the shiny surface with some sort of fabric.

Not the knife again... please...

... What more could Warren have to cut!? He's done, he's finished. What--

Then Warren's words sink in. It was looking after Sam that sealed his fate? That's what Warren's using!? That Gene helped his DI? His friend? That he made sure he was okay??

Gene doesn't even flinch at the pat to his cheek. If he hadn't taken Sam in.... This might not be happening...

Disbelief in his voice, he murmurs, just above a whisper.*

.... You're not human...

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Warren gives a soft huff as he steps behind Gene, marvelling at how this forced pose makes the muscles in his back stand out, how he can see tendons all along the length of Gene's arms.

"Neither are you."

Then, it's time for the next step. Warren places the knife at the point where the "Y" shape stops at Gene's right shoulder. He won't follow the pattern exactly the way he will once Hunt is in his wolf form... He still needs him alive, after all. Artistic freedom is what this is.

Slowly, Warren begins to cut up along the outside of Gene's arm. Not too deep, so as not to cause too much of a blood loss... but deep enough for it to hurt.*
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Gene Hunt
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*"Neither are you."

No, Gene acknowledges woundedly. He's not.... And that's the whole problem, isn't it.

When the knife point digs into that point on his shoulder, Gene almost screams.

Not again. Not again, no, no, no no no--!

Once the blade starts searing up the sensitive inside of his arm, Gene does cry out. He's had it, he's had enough. This is torture. The pain overwhelms him and his ragged shout fights to get out from between his clenched teeth. Halfway down to his elbow the blade curves, taking the line up the outside of his forearm - it'd be too kind, wouldn't it. For Warren to allow him to bleed to death - Slit his wrists and be done with it.*

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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*Behind Gene, Warren gives a hum of pleasure and triumph. There... he's coaxed that scream out of Hunt. Now if he could get him to plead.... How delicious that would be.

Warren finishes up right on top of Gene's wrist, lifting the knife away reverently. Then, taking a step to the side so that he's standing right behind Gene again, watching the quivering of his limbs for a few seconds, before starting all over again with his other arm. Symmetry is everything, after all...

"You look absolutely marvellous like this," Warren breathes, despite himself. It's getting to him - the sight of the blood, the sounds of Hunt's pain. It's making him heady.*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene lets out another choked off yell as the knife digs into the incision on the other side. It's never-ending... The pain just comes and comes, over and over... The blood just keeps running, dripping onto the floor below. The knife keeps cutting, the pale skin underneath forced apart.

But perhaps even worse... The tone of Warren's words makes Gene's skin crawl. Warren's getting off on this. He's in awe, admiring his handiwork, considering it beautiful. Regarding Gene's broken and strained body, his pain and his blood... It's 'marvellous'....

He can't help his eyes welling up again, equal parts out of humiliation, pain and grief.

Quietly, voice dripping with agony and despair,*

Fuck... You...
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Sam Tyler
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*Warren tuts.

"Language, Mr Hunt."

Lifting the knife away again, he walks around to Gene's front again. The blood has started to thoroughly soak his trousers - good thing that those will be coming off as well then...!

Warren reaches out, and with a twisted kind of delicacy places his fingers around Gene's chin, nudging his head up so as to take in his expression. The expression of perfect defeat.

And the best part hasn't even started yet...

Warren smiles. "Do you regret it? Hm? Taking your DI's side?"*
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Gene Hunt
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*zero strength left, his energy flowing out of him with every drop of his blood that trickles down, Gene can't resist as Warren lifts his head up.

That question. Gene should have expected this. Warren's already tried to turn him against Sam - he knows what Warren wants him to say.

But Sam... Sam's his DI. Granted they haven't known each other that long really, but... He's a good man. He's a good friend. The best friend Gene has. Sure, they don't always agree... But so far together they've been an unstoppable team. Gene cares about him. More than he ever thought he would...

Gene's shining eyes meet Warren's, a sad smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

He huffs a laugh, hoping to at least hurt Warren's pride a tiny bit.*

You want me to choose... Between Sam and you?

You're the one planning to kill me... You're the one who's... Done all this.

... Take a wild guess.
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Sam Tyler
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Gladys
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*....

Warren's eyebrows twitch slightly. That isn't the answer he was hoping for... but then, this is Gene Hunt he's dealing with. He shouldn't be surprised that there's still some defiance left it him. If there wasn't, he wouldn't be having this much fun.

Keeping his hold on Gene, Warren cocks his head to the side a little.

"This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't rocked the boat. If he hadn't turned up... you would have continued to serve me well."*
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Gene Hunt
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*Gene's smile only grows - Warren's eyebrow twitched. He's getting to him. It worked.

And yet Warren still tries to change his mind. Still tries to get him to denounce his DI. But Warren doesn't seem to understand. He's loyal. Sam has his loyalty. Sam is the only one who accepted him - who found out Gene's secret and didn't run screaming. Sam is the only one who wanted to help - who saw his predicament and seemed almost as distressed as Gene himself was.*

If he hadn't turned up... I'd still be betraying myself... By believing you.
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Sam Tyler
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*"....."

This time, Warren can't hide the frown. He had hoped he'd have broken Gene thoroughly enough by now... but it seems that these questions have actually given him some strength back again.

Time to change tactics again, then.

Warren lets go of Gene's chin and walks over to the table once again - another photo session is in order. He takes his time, circulating around Gene, getting a good view of the cuts up his arms, the tracks the blood has painted down his body... And slowly, he gets back into the mood again.

So much so, that when he picks up his knife again, a cruel smile is playing around his lips.

Warren is stood right in front of Gene now, letting him stew in uncertainty for a few seconds. Then, his fingers brush across Gene's belt-buckle, starting to slowly undo it.*
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