Killer Romance Fic: Repercussions 1/1
Jul. 11th, 2011 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
saoneTitle: Repercussions
Series: Killer Romance aka The Adventures of crimeboss!Jared and ex-assassin!Jensen
Author:saone77
Summary: AU. You really shouldn't fuck with Jensen's boyfriend.
Characters: J2, and some Losers, and a Chad.
Rating: R
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware. Violence, death of unnamed goons, references to Jensen's 'work', though nothing onscreen.
Word Count: 2609
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: This is quite a bit darker than previous installments, but the last part was rather shmoopy, so maybe I'm just evening things out. ;)
Jared is pissed.
His hands are behind him, wrists tightly secured by cuffs, acerbating what he's pretty sure is a dislocated shoulder. His left eye stings, and there's blood sticking in his lashes from a gash on his forehead. His ass has gone numb from the hard and unyielding metal chair he's tethered to. And, as the craptastic icing on the shitcake of his current predicament, his nose is itching like crazy.
He's also more than a little woozy - he's not sure if that's from the head wound or if they drugged him while he was unconscious - which, along with the being bound thing, is going to make killing all these sons-of-bitches kind of difficult. Hell, Jared's not even sure how many of them there are since, unless he's been kidnapped by a gang comprised entirely of twins, he thinks he might be seeing double.
"Gonna... kill... fuckers..." Jared manages to get out. He scowls mightily when his prediction is met with laughs instead of the fear it so appropriately deserves.
The kidnappers don't address him directly, but the chatter amongst themselves increases. Jared doesn't recognize the language, but in his scrambled mind it sounds like something one might find in Eastern Europe. "Moose and squirrel," he mutters darkly. Then he chuckles because that shit was funny. Except it really wasn't, and something is seriously wrong with his head.
Jared lets his chin rest against his chest. He takes a few slow, deep breathes and tries to remember what happened.
The first thing that pops into his mind is a face, beloved and precious. Jared's heart skips a beat. Jensen. Where the hell's Jensen?!
Before Jared can panic too badly a memory comes through with startling clarity. Jensen had opted to spend his afternoon playing a few rounds of golf with Tommy. Jared had pouted, but let Jensen go with minimal fuss, knowing that a few hours spent cooped up in the back room of one of Mike's clubs listening to earning projections and growth possibilities would make the ex-assassin one unhappy camper.
That's it. They had been coming back from Mike's club. Jared had been in the back of one of the Mercedes while Idris drove and Jeff lounged in the passenger seat. Then...
Wait. What happened then?
Jared absentmindedly starts to chew on his lower lip. They were in the club, then they were in the car, then...
Oh, crap. Somebody hit them.
It's fuzzy and distant, but Jared can remember Jeff yelling and Idris cursing and trying to swerve as a big, black Hummer came out of nowhere. Jared hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, and the impact had turned him into a pinball.
Well, at least now he knows where his head trauma came from, not to mention possibly the rest of his injuries.
Anger runs through Jared, hot and heavy, at not just what these assholes did to him, but to his people as well. Not to mention he car. He loved that car.
Jared bites down on the inside of his cheek. He needs to focus. He knows Jensen's coming - that's a complete no-brainer - but he doesn't know how long it might take. Even if Jeff and Idris survived the crash - please, God - there's no guessing what kind of shape they might be in, or what kind of information they'd be able to share. The worse case scenario has Jared waiting it out while Jensen slices and dices his way through Jared's rather impressive enemies list until he finds the right one.
At least, since they took him alive, Jared thinks he might have a little time to work with.
Jared keeps his head down, but he lets his eyes scan the area he's being held in. It's big, possibly part of some kind of warehouse. There are windows high up in the walls, at least fifteen feet off the ground. Even if Jared had the means and wherewithal to reach them, he's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to get his shoulders through. His eyes continue their trek. There's a door, metal and solid-looking, set into the wall just beyond where the thugs are playing some sort of card game. About ten feet to the right of them there's another table pushed up against the wall holding all sorts of handguns and rifles. Wherever they've taken him, the thugs feel safe here. Morons.
There's the sound of a plane taking off, and Jared's eyes automatically flit upwards. He doesn't see the plane, obviously, but he does see a skylight which, like every other possible escape route, doesn't do him a whole hell of a lot of good.
Jared sighs and wonders if he should try playing the bathroom card yet, or if he should wait until he might be a little less likely to fall over. He blinks a few times and notices that his vision has cleared a bit, which is a good because he's treated to a beautiful sight.
There's a red laser beam cutting through the air. He follows the trail of it from one of the windows straight down to a rather burly thug's head.
Jared grins, and it's not a very nice expression at all.
Two things then happen that both brighten Jared's day considerably. From somewhere outside a bullet is fired that travels along the path of the laser right into the thug's skull, the back of which explodes in a mist of blood, brain, and bone.
And Jensen crashes through the skylight.
Jared's still stuck to the chair so all he can do is kind of wriggle with glee as he watches his badass boyfriend completely dismantle his kidnappers. In one smooth move Jensen releases himself from his harness then pivots to kick one guy in the face while simultaneously drawing a throwing knife with his right hand. The blade ends up buried in the neck of another thug, but before he even falls, two more weapons are flying through the air and hitting their targets with satisfying thumps.
Four out of the five remaining thugs scurry to the weapon's table, trying to arm themselves before Jensen draws his own gun from the holster strapped to his thigh.
Jared knows it's beyond inappropriate to get turned on in a situation like this, especially since the fifth thug is now holding something sharp against his windpipe, but dear Lord, a thigh holster.
Four sharp retorts echo through the warehouse, then Jensen smoothly swings his aim to the man standing just behind Jared.
"The only reason you're still alive is because I need you for information," Jensen says calmly.
"Oh," the thug says, "so it has nothing to do with this?"
Jared feels whatever the man is holding slip into his skin. The intrusion is shallow, but deep enough that he can plainly feel blood start to run down his skin to the collar of his shirt.
To a layman Jensen doesn't appear to react to the threat at all. But for someone who knows Jensen, it's oh so easy to see the fury bubbling just beneath his chilled facade.
Someone's going to die messy, and it's not going to be Jared.
"You have two options," Jensen says. "You either move away from Jared, put down your weapon, and answer all my questions like a good little goon, or the man standing behind you will fire his taser and make you piss yourself."
The pressure on the Jared's throat disappears as the thug starts to turn. There's a shriek and the sharp smell of ozone, then the sound of a body hitting the floor.
"Dumbass," Columbus says. "You alright, boss?"
"How..." Jared feels a gentle hand touch his shoulder. He thinks he's confused again, then he sees the door he had noticed before. It's standing wide open.
"We snuck in while Jensen was doing his ninja routine," Columbus says. He grunts. "All right, this one's ziptied and secured."
We? Jared swings his vision around to see Chris rifling through the pockets of one of the corpses.
"Ha! Found the keys." Chris throws them to Jensen who catches them without a glance.
All his attention is focused on Jared, and there's this horrible, almost tragic, look on his face. He clears his throat. "Chris, help Columbus get our friend into the trunk." He slowly walks over to Jared. He leans over and lets their foreheads rest together.
Jared just breathes for a moment, letting everything - the pain in his shoulder, the wooziness in his head, the frightened cries from his erstwhile kidnapper - fade away.
Jensen kisses the crown of his head, then moves around behind Jared's chair and begins removing Jared's restraints. "Just so you know, Doctor Ferris is already standing by at the medical center, and if you even think about saying anything macho like 'I'm fine', you're going to be sleeping on the couch for a whole damn month."
"I am fine." Jared smiles, but before Jensen can get too indigent, he says, "I mean, my shoulder's fucked, and I'm pretty sure I've got a concussion, but..." Jared lets the hand belonging to his non-injured arm wrap around one of Jensen's. "You're here."
For one glorious moment Jensen looks not only startled, but shy, and ridiculously pleased all at once. Then his expression clears and settles into one of comfortable mockery. "Instead of losing all respect for you, I'm just going to blame that on the head wound, okay?"
Jared grins. "'Kay."
"Can you walk?"
"Um..." Jared seriously ponders the question.
"Yeah, I'm gonna take that as a no. Hang tight, let me get Chris."
Jared starts to nod, then thinks better of it. "I'll be here," he says. "Wait, Jen?"
"Yeah?"
Jared swallows. "Jeff and Idris, are they..."
"Pretty banged up, but they were feeling good enough to call me names when I nixed their plans to come with. Sam threatened them with catheters if they didn't voluntarily stay in bed. It was hilarious. I think Chris got a video of it on his iPhone." Jensen palms the side of Jared's head. "Jeff said he'd kick my ass if I didn't get you back."
"And you let him live?" Jared asks, only half jokingly.
"He was scared," Jensen says quietly, letting his thumb stroke over Jared's temple. "We all were."
Jared leans ever so slightly into his touch, and holds Jensen's gaze with his own. "I wasn't." He doesn't have to say the rest. Jensen already knows.
Jensen leans over and kisses Jared with just enough force to let him know the message was received. "Dork," he whispers fondly.
"Oh, my God!" Chris says. He's standing by the door with his hands on his hips and a look of faux exasperation clear on his face. "I should have known when you guys didn't come out right away that you had stopped for some nookie."
Jensen rolls his eyes. "Shut up, you ass, and help me get Gigantor here out to the car."
Chris nods and moves around to Jared's non-injured side. He and Jensen carefully help Jared stand. Spots dance in front of Jared's eyes but before he can feel himself do more than slightly sway, hands tighten around unbruised parts of his flesh.
"We gotcha," Jensen says softly. "Just concentrate on moving your feet; we'll keep you upright."
Despite everything Jared finds himself giggling. "I love you guys."
"Uh..." Chris looks at Jensen. "Concussion?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Can I record this?"
"For laughs or blackmail purposes?"
"Oh, strictly for laughs." Chris thinks for a moment. "Or possibly a raise."
"Eh," Jensen says shrugging, "sure."
"I take it back," Jared huffs, "you guys suck."
___________
Jensen waits until Jared has been poked, prodded, declared 'mostly well', and medicated before he leaves to take care of his unfinished business. Chris and Columbus are staying at the clinic and Jensen knows that between the two of them - not to mention Jeff and Idris in the next room, and Sam who can be a bit of a bear when it comes to protecting her patients - that Jared's as safe as he can be. Jensen still worries, though. He can't help it. Though he should be able to exorcise some of those frustrations soon enough.
The warehouse he pulls up to is well-maintained, yet nondescript, and registered through such a complex series of dummy corporations, Jensen wouldn't be surprised if most people in the organization didn't even know of its existence. Jensen unlocks the outer door, slips inside, then locks it behind him. He takes a sharp right, goes through another door, then down a staircase. There are several more doors set into the long hallway, but Jensen is going to the one at the very end.
He knocks sharply, just once. The door opens, and the first thing Jensen sees is Chad's worried face. Oscar's is right behind him.
"He's gonna be fine," Jensen murmurs.
Chad's face almost crumples, but he holds it together. Oscar closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, releases it slowly, and when he opens his eyes any trace of relief or compassion is gone.
"How's our birdie?" Jensen asks, walking further into the room.
The surviving - for now - thug is secured to a chair positioned right over a drain in the metal floor. Jensen's toolkit is beside him. A leather apron is carefully folded on top of it. There's an industrial sized sink against the far wall with a stack of towels and what Jensen recognizes as a change of clothes laying on a stand beside it. Underneath the stand is a roll of plastic sheeting. Good. Chad and Oscar had obviously been listening to his instructions.
"Oh, he's been singing up a storm," Chad says.
"You get names?" Jensen asks.
"Several."
Jensen scowls.
"Anyway," Chad says, "he's all yours. I hope you don't mind if I skip the festivities."
"Wait, wait!" the thug says, eyes wide and spittle flying from his mouth. "I've told you everything I know. I swear! There's no point in torturing me for more information; I have nothing more to give!"
Jensen chuckles. "I believe you. I know, regardless of what the CIA claims, that intel retrieved that way is notoriously unreliable. No, I'm going to torture you for retribution."
The man opens his mouth wide, probably to start screaming, but he doesn't get a chance because Oscar shoves a rag in there first. He then pulls a roll of duct tape from somewhere and securely fastens the gag by winding a strip around the thug's head a few times.
"You nearly killed two of my friends," Jensen says. "You kidnapped and threatened the man I love." He cocks his head. "Did you really think there wouldn't be repercussions for those actions?"
Jensen opens his kit and takes out a pair of nitrile gloves. He pulls them on, slowly. "I don't normally enjoy this kind of thing; it tends to get a little too messy for my tastes. But, in your case, I'm going to make an exception. You're going to serve as an example, not just to your former employers, but to anyone else who is stupid enough to think about trying something similar."
Chad snorts. "You are one scary motherfucker, Ackles. Jay's lucky to have you." He shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "We all are. Give me a call when you're done; I'll send over Tigerman and the cleaning crew. Have fun."
Jensen waves his goodbye, then he turns to Oscar. "You don't have to stay either."
Oscar shrugs. "You will need someone to help you with the body once you are done. Besides," he says, eyes dark and cold, "you are not the only one who nearly lost family to this capullo."
Jensen gets it.
"Okay," he says, clapping his hands together, "let's get to work."
___________
end
Series: Killer Romance aka The Adventures of crimeboss!Jared and ex-assassin!Jensen
Author:
saone77Summary: AU. You really shouldn't fuck with Jensen's boyfriend.
Characters: J2, and some Losers, and a Chad.
Rating: R
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware. Violence, death of unnamed goons, references to Jensen's 'work', though nothing onscreen.
Word Count: 2609
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: This is quite a bit darker than previous installments, but the last part was rather shmoopy, so maybe I'm just evening things out. ;)
Jared is pissed.
His hands are behind him, wrists tightly secured by cuffs, acerbating what he's pretty sure is a dislocated shoulder. His left eye stings, and there's blood sticking in his lashes from a gash on his forehead. His ass has gone numb from the hard and unyielding metal chair he's tethered to. And, as the craptastic icing on the shitcake of his current predicament, his nose is itching like crazy.
He's also more than a little woozy - he's not sure if that's from the head wound or if they drugged him while he was unconscious - which, along with the being bound thing, is going to make killing all these sons-of-bitches kind of difficult. Hell, Jared's not even sure how many of them there are since, unless he's been kidnapped by a gang comprised entirely of twins, he thinks he might be seeing double.
"Gonna... kill... fuckers..." Jared manages to get out. He scowls mightily when his prediction is met with laughs instead of the fear it so appropriately deserves.
The kidnappers don't address him directly, but the chatter amongst themselves increases. Jared doesn't recognize the language, but in his scrambled mind it sounds like something one might find in Eastern Europe. "Moose and squirrel," he mutters darkly. Then he chuckles because that shit was funny. Except it really wasn't, and something is seriously wrong with his head.
Jared lets his chin rest against his chest. He takes a few slow, deep breathes and tries to remember what happened.
The first thing that pops into his mind is a face, beloved and precious. Jared's heart skips a beat. Jensen. Where the hell's Jensen?!
Before Jared can panic too badly a memory comes through with startling clarity. Jensen had opted to spend his afternoon playing a few rounds of golf with Tommy. Jared had pouted, but let Jensen go with minimal fuss, knowing that a few hours spent cooped up in the back room of one of Mike's clubs listening to earning projections and growth possibilities would make the ex-assassin one unhappy camper.
That's it. They had been coming back from Mike's club. Jared had been in the back of one of the Mercedes while Idris drove and Jeff lounged in the passenger seat. Then...
Wait. What happened then?
Jared absentmindedly starts to chew on his lower lip. They were in the club, then they were in the car, then...
Oh, crap. Somebody hit them.
It's fuzzy and distant, but Jared can remember Jeff yelling and Idris cursing and trying to swerve as a big, black Hummer came out of nowhere. Jared hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, and the impact had turned him into a pinball.
Well, at least now he knows where his head trauma came from, not to mention possibly the rest of his injuries.
Anger runs through Jared, hot and heavy, at not just what these assholes did to him, but to his people as well. Not to mention he car. He loved that car.
Jared bites down on the inside of his cheek. He needs to focus. He knows Jensen's coming - that's a complete no-brainer - but he doesn't know how long it might take. Even if Jeff and Idris survived the crash - please, God - there's no guessing what kind of shape they might be in, or what kind of information they'd be able to share. The worse case scenario has Jared waiting it out while Jensen slices and dices his way through Jared's rather impressive enemies list until he finds the right one.
At least, since they took him alive, Jared thinks he might have a little time to work with.
Jared keeps his head down, but he lets his eyes scan the area he's being held in. It's big, possibly part of some kind of warehouse. There are windows high up in the walls, at least fifteen feet off the ground. Even if Jared had the means and wherewithal to reach them, he's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to get his shoulders through. His eyes continue their trek. There's a door, metal and solid-looking, set into the wall just beyond where the thugs are playing some sort of card game. About ten feet to the right of them there's another table pushed up against the wall holding all sorts of handguns and rifles. Wherever they've taken him, the thugs feel safe here. Morons.
There's the sound of a plane taking off, and Jared's eyes automatically flit upwards. He doesn't see the plane, obviously, but he does see a skylight which, like every other possible escape route, doesn't do him a whole hell of a lot of good.
Jared sighs and wonders if he should try playing the bathroom card yet, or if he should wait until he might be a little less likely to fall over. He blinks a few times and notices that his vision has cleared a bit, which is a good because he's treated to a beautiful sight.
There's a red laser beam cutting through the air. He follows the trail of it from one of the windows straight down to a rather burly thug's head.
Jared grins, and it's not a very nice expression at all.
Two things then happen that both brighten Jared's day considerably. From somewhere outside a bullet is fired that travels along the path of the laser right into the thug's skull, the back of which explodes in a mist of blood, brain, and bone.
And Jensen crashes through the skylight.
Jared's still stuck to the chair so all he can do is kind of wriggle with glee as he watches his badass boyfriend completely dismantle his kidnappers. In one smooth move Jensen releases himself from his harness then pivots to kick one guy in the face while simultaneously drawing a throwing knife with his right hand. The blade ends up buried in the neck of another thug, but before he even falls, two more weapons are flying through the air and hitting their targets with satisfying thumps.
Four out of the five remaining thugs scurry to the weapon's table, trying to arm themselves before Jensen draws his own gun from the holster strapped to his thigh.
Jared knows it's beyond inappropriate to get turned on in a situation like this, especially since the fifth thug is now holding something sharp against his windpipe, but dear Lord, a thigh holster.
Four sharp retorts echo through the warehouse, then Jensen smoothly swings his aim to the man standing just behind Jared.
"The only reason you're still alive is because I need you for information," Jensen says calmly.
"Oh," the thug says, "so it has nothing to do with this?"
Jared feels whatever the man is holding slip into his skin. The intrusion is shallow, but deep enough that he can plainly feel blood start to run down his skin to the collar of his shirt.
To a layman Jensen doesn't appear to react to the threat at all. But for someone who knows Jensen, it's oh so easy to see the fury bubbling just beneath his chilled facade.
Someone's going to die messy, and it's not going to be Jared.
"You have two options," Jensen says. "You either move away from Jared, put down your weapon, and answer all my questions like a good little goon, or the man standing behind you will fire his taser and make you piss yourself."
The pressure on the Jared's throat disappears as the thug starts to turn. There's a shriek and the sharp smell of ozone, then the sound of a body hitting the floor.
"Dumbass," Columbus says. "You alright, boss?"
"How..." Jared feels a gentle hand touch his shoulder. He thinks he's confused again, then he sees the door he had noticed before. It's standing wide open.
"We snuck in while Jensen was doing his ninja routine," Columbus says. He grunts. "All right, this one's ziptied and secured."
We? Jared swings his vision around to see Chris rifling through the pockets of one of the corpses.
"Ha! Found the keys." Chris throws them to Jensen who catches them without a glance.
All his attention is focused on Jared, and there's this horrible, almost tragic, look on his face. He clears his throat. "Chris, help Columbus get our friend into the trunk." He slowly walks over to Jared. He leans over and lets their foreheads rest together.
Jared just breathes for a moment, letting everything - the pain in his shoulder, the wooziness in his head, the frightened cries from his erstwhile kidnapper - fade away.
Jensen kisses the crown of his head, then moves around behind Jared's chair and begins removing Jared's restraints. "Just so you know, Doctor Ferris is already standing by at the medical center, and if you even think about saying anything macho like 'I'm fine', you're going to be sleeping on the couch for a whole damn month."
"I am fine." Jared smiles, but before Jensen can get too indigent, he says, "I mean, my shoulder's fucked, and I'm pretty sure I've got a concussion, but..." Jared lets the hand belonging to his non-injured arm wrap around one of Jensen's. "You're here."
For one glorious moment Jensen looks not only startled, but shy, and ridiculously pleased all at once. Then his expression clears and settles into one of comfortable mockery. "Instead of losing all respect for you, I'm just going to blame that on the head wound, okay?"
Jared grins. "'Kay."
"Can you walk?"
"Um..." Jared seriously ponders the question.
"Yeah, I'm gonna take that as a no. Hang tight, let me get Chris."
Jared starts to nod, then thinks better of it. "I'll be here," he says. "Wait, Jen?"
"Yeah?"
Jared swallows. "Jeff and Idris, are they..."
"Pretty banged up, but they were feeling good enough to call me names when I nixed their plans to come with. Sam threatened them with catheters if they didn't voluntarily stay in bed. It was hilarious. I think Chris got a video of it on his iPhone." Jensen palms the side of Jared's head. "Jeff said he'd kick my ass if I didn't get you back."
"And you let him live?" Jared asks, only half jokingly.
"He was scared," Jensen says quietly, letting his thumb stroke over Jared's temple. "We all were."
Jared leans ever so slightly into his touch, and holds Jensen's gaze with his own. "I wasn't." He doesn't have to say the rest. Jensen already knows.
Jensen leans over and kisses Jared with just enough force to let him know the message was received. "Dork," he whispers fondly.
"Oh, my God!" Chris says. He's standing by the door with his hands on his hips and a look of faux exasperation clear on his face. "I should have known when you guys didn't come out right away that you had stopped for some nookie."
Jensen rolls his eyes. "Shut up, you ass, and help me get Gigantor here out to the car."
Chris nods and moves around to Jared's non-injured side. He and Jensen carefully help Jared stand. Spots dance in front of Jared's eyes but before he can feel himself do more than slightly sway, hands tighten around unbruised parts of his flesh.
"We gotcha," Jensen says softly. "Just concentrate on moving your feet; we'll keep you upright."
Despite everything Jared finds himself giggling. "I love you guys."
"Uh..." Chris looks at Jensen. "Concussion?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Can I record this?"
"For laughs or blackmail purposes?"
"Oh, strictly for laughs." Chris thinks for a moment. "Or possibly a raise."
"Eh," Jensen says shrugging, "sure."
"I take it back," Jared huffs, "you guys suck."
___________
Jensen waits until Jared has been poked, prodded, declared 'mostly well', and medicated before he leaves to take care of his unfinished business. Chris and Columbus are staying at the clinic and Jensen knows that between the two of them - not to mention Jeff and Idris in the next room, and Sam who can be a bit of a bear when it comes to protecting her patients - that Jared's as safe as he can be. Jensen still worries, though. He can't help it. Though he should be able to exorcise some of those frustrations soon enough.
The warehouse he pulls up to is well-maintained, yet nondescript, and registered through such a complex series of dummy corporations, Jensen wouldn't be surprised if most people in the organization didn't even know of its existence. Jensen unlocks the outer door, slips inside, then locks it behind him. He takes a sharp right, goes through another door, then down a staircase. There are several more doors set into the long hallway, but Jensen is going to the one at the very end.
He knocks sharply, just once. The door opens, and the first thing Jensen sees is Chad's worried face. Oscar's is right behind him.
"He's gonna be fine," Jensen murmurs.
Chad's face almost crumples, but he holds it together. Oscar closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, releases it slowly, and when he opens his eyes any trace of relief or compassion is gone.
"How's our birdie?" Jensen asks, walking further into the room.
The surviving - for now - thug is secured to a chair positioned right over a drain in the metal floor. Jensen's toolkit is beside him. A leather apron is carefully folded on top of it. There's an industrial sized sink against the far wall with a stack of towels and what Jensen recognizes as a change of clothes laying on a stand beside it. Underneath the stand is a roll of plastic sheeting. Good. Chad and Oscar had obviously been listening to his instructions.
"Oh, he's been singing up a storm," Chad says.
"You get names?" Jensen asks.
"Several."
Jensen scowls.
"Anyway," Chad says, "he's all yours. I hope you don't mind if I skip the festivities."
"Wait, wait!" the thug says, eyes wide and spittle flying from his mouth. "I've told you everything I know. I swear! There's no point in torturing me for more information; I have nothing more to give!"
Jensen chuckles. "I believe you. I know, regardless of what the CIA claims, that intel retrieved that way is notoriously unreliable. No, I'm going to torture you for retribution."
The man opens his mouth wide, probably to start screaming, but he doesn't get a chance because Oscar shoves a rag in there first. He then pulls a roll of duct tape from somewhere and securely fastens the gag by winding a strip around the thug's head a few times.
"You nearly killed two of my friends," Jensen says. "You kidnapped and threatened the man I love." He cocks his head. "Did you really think there wouldn't be repercussions for those actions?"
Jensen opens his kit and takes out a pair of nitrile gloves. He pulls them on, slowly. "I don't normally enjoy this kind of thing; it tends to get a little too messy for my tastes. But, in your case, I'm going to make an exception. You're going to serve as an example, not just to your former employers, but to anyone else who is stupid enough to think about trying something similar."
Chad snorts. "You are one scary motherfucker, Ackles. Jay's lucky to have you." He shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "We all are. Give me a call when you're done; I'll send over Tigerman and the cleaning crew. Have fun."
Jensen waves his goodbye, then he turns to Oscar. "You don't have to stay either."
Oscar shrugs. "You will need someone to help you with the body once you are done. Besides," he says, eyes dark and cold, "you are not the only one who nearly lost family to this capullo."
Jensen gets it.
"Okay," he says, clapping his hands together, "let's get to work."
___________
end