The small female struck the young man across the face again, sending spittle flying. Her rage was barely controlled, and his fear was similarly about to take over.
“How could he fail?” she shrieked. The young man quivered in fear.
“You said he was the best! That he had a perfect record! He could not fail you said! And we paid! she ranted, stomping around the small room.
The young man was starting to shake, but this didn’t come from fear. Rather, it came from the fact that he hadn’t had any time with his pipe in two days, and he was starting to ache for it. The growing sense of hunger and ensuing desperation didn’t marry well with the ass-chewing he was getting. He glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings yet again, looking for an out, or at least a distraction. The woman was there with her bodyguard, the room had some storage boxes in it, no window, and only one door, to the rest of the cellar. It was deep enough underground, and positioned under the building such that no sound would escape from it – a perfect place for meetings where secrets were discussed.
Smack! went his cheek. “You’re not listening to me!” the woman shrieked again. “You will, dammit! You will! Take a few days down here and think about what failure brings, boy!” she raved ash she turned and pulled at the door handle, which stuck for a moment, provoking her to kick the door and shriek some more. Finally, it opened and she and her thug left, locking the young man in alone, with only a small lantern for light.
“What can I do to fix this? What am I supposed to do down here to make things right?” he called out, suddenly coming to terms with the possibility of being locked in there with limited…supplies.
A moment passed before he heard a distant voice shriek once more: “suffer!”