Dead End || Henry, Niko, Krsto
The corners of Niko’s mouth turned down at his brother’s suggestion and he shrugged one shoulder to say he didn’t care for the gag. Instead, he kept the old man’s head back by the hair and turned the blade from sharp edge to dull and to sharp again, tracing a neat path low over Henry’s windpipe as he struggled and demanded to know what exactly the Croatians wanted. Krsto laid out a neat plan for quick cash but Niko had his reservations. Clucking his tongue in disapproval once and completely ignoring Henry’s request, the younger Marković spoke only to his older brother.
"I have read all about him. There is no one who would pay his ransom. His wife is out of the country, his son abandoned him, there is only a daughter and she has nothing." He abandoned the blade and the grip on Henry’s hair to return to the battery and the picana, attaching the leads swiftly to the battery charger and an amperage regulator he’d made himself several years ago. With Henry still dripping from his dip in the toilet bowl Niko stabbed his chest with the end of the wand to send a jolt of electricity through his body. Niko’s small grin that never seemed to change remained on his face as he watched Godfrey react to being struck with the amperage. But Niko was fickle and like a child he was already bored with his toy. After all, he preferred more grander displays especially for such a powerful man, one he’d read about for so long. Godfrey had terrorized London for weeks and the way the papers portrayed it almost no one was safe. The Wolf is what they called him. Yet here he was easily subdued, bound to a chair, dripping from his head to about mid-chest. Niko laughed quietly to himself thinking he looked like someone’s grandfather rather than a criminal mastermind. Abandoning the small cattle prod and retrieving his knife again he looked at Krsto, slipping the blade between his lips as was his habit and drawing it out again after an idea had arrived. “I think we would be doing the town a favor if we chopped him into little pieces. You know. We have done it before,” he said, lifting a brow, grinning, attempting to egg his brother on.
After hearing what his brother had to say about Godfrey, Krsto finally stood up. “How disappointing,” he eyed the older man sitting on the chair bound by a rope tied in Niko’s signature meticulous knots. Tilting his head to the side, he kept his dark gaze on Godfrey, feeling Niko move in and out of the room. Krsto didn’t bother to pick up his head as the younger man returned, stabbing Godfrey with the cattle prod, sending shots of electricity throughout the man’s body.
When Niko once again spoke, he turned to look at his brother this time, remembering the time Niko had mentioned and seeing the moment so vividly before his eyes. It was one of those times when decisions had to be made quickly and although at the moment their decision seemed violent and horrific, it all worked out in the end.
"That time you speak of brother, we didn’t have a choice. We had to do it," he said, letting a smile peek in the side of his mouth. And, yes, did it work out, he thought to himself, running the list of things that would benefit them if they were to end Godfrey, The Wolf. Once a powerful figure in London, the man was reduced to something hunted both by the authorities and the people who he did wrong. "But I suppose you are right, brother… We’re not only going to do this town a favor but we are going to make ourselves known to it as well," he grinned at Niko, pulling his cellphone out, getting ready to take a few shots of the bound man.
"How about a little smile, Godfrey? Before the final act?" He said, picking the man’s head up by his drenched hair as he recorded the moment, light from the small device bright on the man’s face.
"You're wrong!" Henry hissed, protesting at once, trying to force his own head back even further to escape the mounting pressure of the blade against his throast. "I've got loads of money, BAGS of it, buried throughout the 'ole damn city. I can g--" his entire body tensed then, as shocks of electricity invaded his system. It was intense and so powerful, he thought his brain was frying in its' skull. The burning, sizzling sensation made him tremeble and completely immobile. Henry couldn't even curse as his veins and arteries threatened to rip and burst. It wasn't enough voltage to kill him but it was enough to make his bones ache, his heart beat a thousand times faster, the shock unmistaken in his head. When the shocks and waves of electricity ceased, he cursed out loudly, shouting at them vain and arrogant remarks that only Henry would make, especially in his current, drugged state.
He was heavily breathing as the two other man spoke amongst themselves, talking about cutting and chopping and whatever else. Henry shut his eyes, trying to escape, at least mentally. His thoughts? He wasn't finished with the Beaudelaires, or the Rothschilds, not in the very least. But they'd all been fucking spared. And what a goddamn pity that was.
'How about a little smile, Godfrey? Before the final act?' Henry looked up with eyes like the Devil, heaving as he stared into the camera. His face was wet with a combination toilet water and sweat. "I'll see you in hell," he spat at the device, not being clear on who exactly it was he'd be seeing down there, but it was the last words he had to offer.
