✁ Jonathan Blackwood or Quigley Laoidhigh
[[That is soooooo unfair. *cries* This is the best I can do, seeing as she would never be able to bring herself to harm either. ;; ]]
"I'm only going to ask you one more time, Jolene. What is the passcode to Ryan's office?"
"I. Don't. Know." The blonde spat through clenched teeth as a man she could only assume worked for Atlas jerked her head up with a vicious yank of her lustrous hair.
He had repeated his line of questioning countless times in the hours since he had captured the dancer, occasionally leaving to allow one of his comrades to pick up where he left off. She did not have the faintest clue how many of them there were but there were a minimum of four in the room with her at all times. One asking questions, two holding her arms wrenched uncomfortably behind her back, and one standing sentinel at the door to prevent her escape should she somehow miraculously overpower the other three. Ridiculous.
All of this for a four digit code.
"He must have said something to you about it or left some papers lying around... Think."
The final word was emphasized with another rough tug on her hair, eliciting a sound of protest from the woman.
"If you don't remember soon--" He unclipped the radio from his belt, bringing it to his lips to mutter a brief 'Bring 'em in', before continuing. "You might just force me to do something drastic. We don't have all day here." As he spoke the door behind him opened to reveal two men being escorted inside, both held at gunpoint.
"Now, you have been seen with both of these men fairly recently, so I wager at least one of them is important to you. Important enough for a trade. You have five seconds, Jolene. Make them count."
Jasmine's mouth went dry. Quigley and-- A lump formed in her throat, cerulean eyes so wide it would have been comical had she not looked so utterly terrified.
"J-Jon-... Jonathan."
Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
"Five."
"I don't know!"
"Four."
"I promise yah, he never told me--"
"Three."
"Please, don't--"
"Two."
"NO! You can't--"
"One." Her assailant looked as disappointed as she did hopeless. It all happened in a fraction of a second. The man lifted his arm silently, a signal, the men behind him nodding grimly and lifting their guns. A moment later Jonathan's body crumpled limply to the floor, blood seeping from his prone form, creating a gradually growing puddle beneath him. A piercing scream split the air, the dancer doubling her struggles against the men restraining her.
"That is one down, Miss Jolene. Shall I continue?"
