He's alone and there is no one who would come to help him, even if he wanted them to.
So he walks to the door, in a shoddy rustic leather jacket of dirty browns and yellows and torn black trousers to match. He opens the door without pretense for caution. There's nothing he can do. And it's seven in the morning; he doesn't want to do anything.
"Danny." The nordic blonde nods once at him before stepping into the room with a hand fast around the younger's neck.
Once he's up against the wall and the other two men, one of which he doesn't recognize, have joined Douglas in intruding into his flat. He opens his cracked lips and susurrates, "Douglas," in reciprocation with a mock-nod of all the range of motion he can muster from his position.
"Your trouble making is recieving attention from the fucking authorities, Danny" The pale man's voice is risen with anger and his fingers tighten around the teenager's throat with purpose.
The youth is mildly confused. He's not sure what he's done this time; not that he's been being a good boy, he never behaves. But whatever has specifically caused trouble is not obvious enough to him.
"What is it now, darling?" The boy asks with a lazy roll of his eyes. Unmoved by the primitive display of power in front of him.
His father has sent his bitch and two puppies to scold him; it's hardly something to catch his breath.
Douglas lifts Danny from his feet, though his heels make it challenging. "You've caused a big problem for some guys upstairs, boy. They are not happy. And there is a chance that nought will be over looked," his eyes scream fear, it makes Danny smile as he presses his knees into Douglas' sides. Inciting a deepening frown and annoyed glance down from the older man.
Everyone who regularly deals with Douglas Fraine in this company, knows he's fucked his boss' son. Danny's been living in fear of a gang-bang for what Douglas has told them, for a long time. Another reason he doesn't spend time at his father's locations anymore; nothing to do with finding respect, as some witless folk have speculated and hoped for. He has none of it.
And least of all for the man who slides closer to harshly whisper, "you are done," at him before stepping back and dropping the teenager's weightless form. Like a cat Danny lands on his feet and watches the older man with sharp eyes, following the other's absent movements as the unwelcome intruder continues on into the flat, brushing back blonde hair that had strayed. Danny releases a dry breath and leans back against the wall, ignoring the two mindless men at the door and closing his eyes briefly.
Douglas interrupts with a scoff, "Doing pretty good for yourself," there's something in his voice that Danny doesn't like at all. It's new. He looks to the side in time to see the enormous man walk out of view, towards the other room. "I wonder where you find the money," Douglas mocks the younger man as he slowly strides back into view. Eyebrows raised, his hands on his hips, exposing stark suspenders along a graying button up, framed with a tacky blue jacket.
Danny narrows his eyes and nods at the other with distinct disdain. Douglas takes a moment to stare intently at the youth, posed and silent. The skinny boy has been in the presence of his father's right hand man long enough for the words and the looks to feel like ice as they so often do with Douglas. "Where is it?" Danny shivers. There is no patience in the elder's flat tone.
"Where is what?" The youth is hardly able to finish the sentence with slowly lowered lashes still thick with mascara before the two men at the door beside him lunge forward and pin him to the wall. Rather pointlessly he thinks, considering he was already leaning against it. The teenager exhales raggedly and shoots a caustic stare at the two men, each recieving a moment of personal appreciation. The seventeen year old is taller than both of them. He looks back to Douglas as he trods up in front of him. Swaying and then removing one hand from his hip, leaving his faded jacket to fall back and obstruct the line of his slacks. "Are you gonna do this, Danny?" A warning. Hands grip him tighter, pushing his slender figure against the hard wall. Danny breathes heavily once, biting his lip as the one in front of him moves closer. He's pulled down roughly so that Douglas is towering above him. Which he does naturally when the boy isn't clad in platform shoes.
"Do you really want to play games with me?" The interrogator shifts his weight and cocks a brow. "I can do that, Daniel." Danny presses back, nose crinkled with a furious temper, and kicks his heel into Douglas' groin. Only missing by a couple of inches, he lands a good hit on the inner thigh.
"Fuck!" He bends at the waist to cup himself and groan. The other two are swift to take action and begin to pummel the teenager's gut as he violently writhes and tries to raise his legs but they're mindful of that now and hold him to the wall with their own. Once the head mutt is back standing the henchmen lean back; winding their arms around Danny's and keeping him stretched out and exposed for their master. Danny stares into the face of the one before him, heaving dry coughs and wincing.
"Did you snort it?" Douglas shouts vehemently, taking a thundering stride closer to his target and pointing a hand at him. "I need to know where the fucking stardust is, Danny." He slaps the younger man, who laughs, the sound a tumbling stream of water, with little air bubbles in it. "You are about to be in a lot of fucking trouble, Danny, just fucking tell me." Danny continues to laugh, his reddened countenance twisted into a sadistic smirk as he squirms and bucks his hips before his shoulders, unable to move but restless. He settles some and stares up into the other's livid face; veins popping in his forehead. "He is," the other's lips tighten, "he's in a lot of fucking trouble" Danny mocks freely with a delighted grin that quickly meets with another blow from the elder's heavy hand. Only pushing the loathesome teen's expression into a honeyed twist of his lips and a raised brow. Eyes burning like hot rocks.
"Get him on the ground," Douglas stands back with a decided expression of his own, rolling his sleeves up. Without warning three men come into the doorway, the pale eyed blonde in the center of the hallway gestures at them and then to the rest of the flat. Danny has no idea where they've all come from, and who told them to be here, but they're obviously expected. He frowns in his confusion as he watches them immediately set to work tossing the place. Not that there is a lot to search through. But they'll be tearing carpets up and making holes in the walls. This deal is worth a lot of money. And if Danny doesn't honour it, he's going to die--not that this is his deal. But Lance gets him to carry every once and awhile. Lance Fraine; the men he stole from will then go after his father. Danny will personally tell them the address before they whack him.
The youth is pulled back to the present as he's forced onto the ground and stood on by one of the more enthusiastic lackies. He glares but has to look away as Douglas leans over him and directs his chin. "We're going to find it, whether you tell us anything or not," hands begin to secure his legs as well as his arms splayed out to his sides. "So I'd start making some apologies now, Danny." Douglas lowers a knee into the teenager's abdomen, eyes glowing with vengeance, he smirks.
Danny groans and pulls at his limbs to no avail. The teenager holds back a whimper and concentrates his expression to the man above him. "If ya' don't find the pack soon ya're goin'ta be outta' a job, tough guy" Danny slowly smiles as he goes on, his voice a quiet melody lowering into a soft whisper as he raises himself as far as he can from the cold ground, "and I don't 'ave it."
Douglas' is panicked into stillness. Staring down at the girlish boy in heels and a partially shrouded crop top. This child with the temporary rainbow tattoo on his wrist and the glitter on his eyelids was about to get a lot of people killed. Four pounds of coke, gone. And only this gutter whore knows where it's gone.
It makes the older man so explosive with anger that he slams the youth into the floor boards several times before standing. Looming over the winded and disoriented boy. The boy's sides are kicked too many times for him to count as all the air around him disperses. A marauding litter of men still loudly overturning the small space in the background. "Okay, the game is over," Douglas' tone is flat again as he makes another decision. Reaching down to intertwine his swollen fingers in Danny's thick black curls, dragging him away from the hands that had held him down, resolutely trailing the clumsy teenager behind him as he makes his way past smashed wood and crumbling drywall. Stopping abruptly at the end of the empty kitchen, recklessly directing Danny's corrupted visage into the sink. Leaning down over him, the older man speaks to him quietly; lackies standing in the doorway. "Give it up."
The water is started, the sink is plugged. And Danny's knees bang into the cupboards as he fights the other's effective grip on his hair. He shouts, something indiscernible before he screams a string of curses, which earns him a pitiless connection with the metal beneath him from the man above him. "Just say when, Danny. I'm waiting," Douglas forces the youth's shoulders forward, immersing his countenance in cold water. Danny doesn't have it anymore. But he knows where it is. The longer he's held beneath the surface, fingernails scraping the skin from his neck, the harder his hands hit the counter, beginning to thrash as Douglas doesn't let up; the faucet still spilling icy water over him.
The elder finally releases him, his hand hovering over the back of the younger's head. Danny sputters and chokes, the knuckles of one hand white as they fiercely grip the edge, his other hand feebly sliding over the water spotted countertop. The men wait with tense posture for an answer, but once Danny can breathe again he pulls back sharply and elbows Douglas in his unguarded abdomen.
Earning him another forty seconds under the water.
When Douglas lets him go the second time, the skeletal boy drops backwards, without strength to stand, his back is pressed against the cupboards. Grievously catching his breath again, each one wet and strained.
It takes a minute for him to raise his mottled visage to the room. Hair slick and shining falling in his eyes and clinging to his cheekbones. A blueish tint to his features. He opens his lips with the smallest whisper. To be heard over the disorderly group of plunderers in the next room Douglas has to crouch beside the youth; wary of an attack despite the kid's appearance. Danny tries again, but the sound is still too airy to meet the ear with comprehension.
"QUIET" Douglas yells, exasperatedly raising a hand at the door before turning back to the boy. Leaning against the counter with one hand, all ears are directed to the boy with the answers, the men from the other room peering through the doorway, past each other's shoulders. Danny's eyes are hardly open.
"The..flower pot.." Douglas frowns. He hadn't seen one. The man gestures at the other's watching to find it. Danny continues, rolling his head against the cupboard, glancing with shimmering bloodshot eyes to the man beside him.
"It's on James' doorstep."
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