SPOOTILIOUS

He blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to the bright florescent lights of the room. He groaned softly into the cloth that was tied around his mouth; muffling the sound. Everything hurt. The ropes that pinned him to the chair bit into his flush, burning his wrists and ankles even through his jeans. His head was pounding from the countless drugs they kept pumping into his blood stream. He glanced up as he heard the cell door open, and in stepped the man who was the cause of this nightmare.

Mortimer Havishum: Most likely one of the most dangerous men you could ever meet. If you asked him what his profession was he would claim that he held a small unimportant position in the government. No one actually believed him, however. Most assumed he was the Queen’s lover; stealing her heart to win him a position of power. Others believe he ran some secret service dedicated to over throwing her. Either way, it didn’t do much for the position Steven Wheeler was in at the moment.

He eyed the stout man in front of him, his four piece suit pressed to perfection, receding hair line trimmed and neat, glasses poised on the brim of his nose as he read the folder in his hand.

“Divorced, recovering drug addict, well known and successful gourmet chef.” The man listed, not even bothering to glance up as he circled Steven. “Tsk, tsk: with such achievements in your background it’s a bit of a surprise that you ended up here, Mr. Wheeler.”

So Steven had a past, didn’t everyone? Yes, but being here a surprise?  Not in the least. He had had the good in life: his wedding day, college graduation, the opening of his restaurant, etcetera. But with every good moment comes a bad, right? It was just life’s way of keeping the balance. So, a surprise? No.

The sharply dressed man was looking for someone; someone Steven knew well, someone he knew personally. A crack shot, ex-military man that he considered a friend. A murderer, con artist, and hit man by the name of Samuel Mason.

Why would a normal man like Steven be protecting such a terrible man? Well; Samuel was the reason Steven was still alive. Yes, as ironic as it sounds Steven’s life had been saved by a murderer. How? Or why for that matter? Well, that, my friend, is a story for later.

Steven continued to watch him as he moved back around. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been here, Mr. Wheeler?” Mortimer asked, closing the file and peering at him over his half-moon spectacles. Steven paused before shaking his head slowly.  How could he? There was no other light source besides the one above his head, blinding him, and the only time he slept was when he either passed out from the pain of his torture or they injected him with whatever was making his head pound.

“Ten days.”  Mortimer informed him. “Ten days of questions, drugs, and abuse. So… tell me Mr. Wheeler; are you prepared to supply me with the information I have asked from you?”  Ready to rat out his closest friend, the man who gave him a reason to live? Steven simply glared at him unable to speak through the gag.

“No?” Mortimer asked arching a brow. Steven knew how this was going to go. He had refused, therefore the man would send someone to beat him, burn him, and cause him unbelievable pain until he broke or fell unconscious. Well, it wasn’t going to work. “Perhaps I can persuade you?” He said calmly, moving to place the polder a top the stool in the far corner. When he turned back he was rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as the door opened. Two men stepped inside the room dragging a blonde haired figure. Steven tensed as Mortimer stepped up to her, fisting her locks and tugging her head back revealing the soft round plumpness of her face and the deep red lips he knew so well. The man gave an admiring whistle.

“Victoria Wheeler.” He grinned glancing up at him. “I must say, Steven; you have very good taste. It’s a pity it didn’t work out between you two.” He straightened letting her head drop. Panic began to rise in Steven’s chest at the sight of his ex-wife. The woman was a gold digger, had never truly loved him, just his success and money, had cheated on him countless time; why should he care what happened to her? And yet… He did. He still loved her and probably always would, despite what she had put him through. His hands curled into fists causing the rope to bite more, making him bleed. He yelled into the cloth, his words lost in the muffle.

“I see you understand.” Mortimer continued calmly. Steven stilled, meeting his eyes, his glare never fading. “Are you willing to cooperate now, Mr. Wheeler?” He continued, his hands sinking into his pockets, his gaze even. Steven bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, before nodding reluctantly. “There’s a good lad.” He said moving to take the stool, setting the file in his lap. “Ungag him.” He instructed the men.

The right one, who was a bit more muscled than the shorter plump one, nodded as he readjusted Victoria’s weight to allow the other a better hold on her. He moved around to Steven’s back before untying the cloth and letting it drop away. Steve moved his jaw back and forth testing it before running his tongue over his dried cracked lips.

“W-what-“ His voice was raspy and rough from disuse, scratching at his throat. He coughed a few times trying to clear it before beginning again. “What do you want to know?” He managed a bit stronger.

“Where is Samuel Mason?” Mortimer demanded.

“I told you I don’t know.” He replied. It was the truth, plain and simple; Sam was always running off for this job or that and never told Steven where he was headed.

“So you’ve said and yet-“

“Listen here, Sleazy.” Steven interrupted. “Samuel doesn’t tell me where he’s headed or what he’s doing and that’s the way we like it. I don’t get involved with his work and in return we act like normal people towards each other. I’m in the dark and that’s the way I’d like it to stay.” Mortimer glared at him, it seemed he was more annoyed with being interrupted than being insulted.

“Now, now, Mr. Wheeler; if we can’t speak as gentleman than I will not act like one.” He warned and for a moment they sat in silence sizing each other up. “Say for the moment; I believe you, which I do not, something else seems to have peaked my interest. How exactly have you come to an acquaintance of one James Maddison?” Steven’s gaze darkened at the name… So this wasn’t about Samuel after all.Prolouge.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to the bright florescent lights of the room. He groaned softly into the cloth that was tied around his mouth; muffling the sound. Everything hurt. The ropes that pinned him to the chair bit into his flush, burning his wrists and ankles even through his jeans. His head was pounding from the countless drugs they kept pumping into his blood stream. He glanced up as he heard the cell door open, and in stepped the man who was the cause of this nightmare.

Mortimer Havishum: Most likely one of the most dangerous men you could ever meet. If you asked him what his profession was he would claim that he held a small unimportant position in the government. No one actually believed him, however. Most assumed he was the Queen’s lover; stealing her heart to win him a position of power. Others believe he ran some secret service dedicated to over throwing her. Either way, it didn’t do much for the position Steven Wheeler was in at the moment.

He eyed the stout man in front of him, his four piece suit pressed to perfection, receding hair line trimmed and neat, glasses poised on the brim of his nose as he read the folder in his hand.

“Divorced, recovering drug addict, well known and successful gourmet chef.” The man listed, not even bothering to glance up as he circled Steven. “Tsk, tsk: with such achievements in your background it’s a bit of a surprise that you ended up here, Mr. Wheeler.”

So Steven had a past, didn’t everyone? Yes, but being here a surprise?  Not in the least. He had had the good in life: his wedding day, college graduation, the opening of his restaurant, etcetera. But with every good moment comes a bad, right? It was just life’s way of keeping the balance. So, a surprise? No.

The sharply dressed man was looking for someone; someone Steven knew well, someone he knew personally. A crack shot, ex-military man that he considered a friend. A murderer, con artist, and hit man by the name of Samuel Mason.

Why would a normal man like Steven be protecting such a terrible man? Well; Samuel was the reason Steven was still alive. Yes, as ironic as it sounds Steven’s life had been saved by a murderer. How? Or why for that matter? Well, that, my friend, is a story for later.

Steven continued to watch him as he moved back around. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been here, Mr. Wheeler?” Mortimer asked, closing the file and peering at him over his half-moon spectacles. Steven paused before shaking his head slowly.  How could he? There was no other light source besides the one above his head, blinding him, and the only time he slept was when he either passed out from the pain of his torture or they injected him with whatever was making his head pound.

“Ten days.”  Mortimer informed him. “Ten days of questions, drugs, and abuse. So… tell me Mr. Wheeler; are you prepared to supply me with the information I have asked from you?”  Ready to rat out his closest friend, the man who gave him a reason to live? Steven simply glared at him unable to speak through the gag.

“No?” Mortimer asked arching a brow. Steven knew how this was going to go. He had refused, therefore the man would send someone to beat him, burn him, and cause him unbelievable pain until he broke or fell unconscious. Well, it wasn’t going to work. “Perhaps I can persuade you?” He said calmly, moving to place the polder a top the stool in the far corner. When he turned back he was rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as the door opened. Two men stepped inside the room dragging a blonde haired figure. Steven tensed as Mortimer stepped up to her, fisting her locks and tugging her head back revealing the soft round plumpness of her face and the deep red lips he knew so well. The man gave an admiring whistle.

“Victoria Wheeler.” He grinned glancing up at him. “I must say, Steven; you have very good taste. It’s a pity it didn’t work out between you two.” He straightened letting her head drop. Panic began to rise in Steven’s chest at the sight of his ex-wife. The woman was a gold digger, had never truly loved him, just his success and money, had cheated on him countless time; why should he care what happened to her? And yet… He did. He still loved her and probably always would, despite what she had put him through. His hands curled into fists causing the rope to bite more, making him bleed. He yelled into the cloth, his words lost in the muffle.

“I see you understand.” Mortimer continued calmly. Steven stilled, meeting his eyes, his glare never fading. “Are you willing to cooperate now, Mr. Wheeler?” He continued, his hands sinking into his pockets, his gaze even. Steven bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, before nodding reluctantly. “There’s a good lad.” He said moving to take the stool, setting the file in his lap. “Ungag him.” He instructed the men.

The right one, who was a bit more muscled than the shorter plump one, nodded as he readjusted Victoria’s weight to allow the other a better hold on her. He moved around to Steven’s back before untying the cloth and letting it drop away. Steve moved his jaw back and forth testing it before running his tongue over his dried cracked lips.

“W-what-“ His voice was raspy and rough from disuse, scratching at his throat. He coughed a few times trying to clear it before beginning again. “What do you want to know?” He managed a bit stronger.

“Where is Samuel Mason?” Mortimer demanded.

“I told you I don’t know.” He replied. It was the truth, plain and simple; Sam was always running off for this job or that and never told Steven where he was headed.

“So you’ve said and yet-“

“Listen here, Sleazy.” Steven interrupted. “Samuel doesn’t tell me where he’s headed or what he’s doing and that’s the way we like it. I don’t get involved with his work and in return we act like normal people towards each other. I’m in the dark and that’s the way I’d like it to stay.” Mortimer glared at him, it seemed he was more annoyed with being interrupted than being insulted.