Ric would have glared Who: Ric, closed narrative What: A most unpleasant welcome home When: December 14th, evening Where: Somewhere in Mexico... Warnings: Language, mild torture, all around unpleasantness. Ric would have glared at the bastards, but trying to glare hurt too damn bad. Not to mention that both his eyes were so swollen that he doubted the expression would carry over through the damaged skin. Dried blood caked his face, mostly around his nose and lips, a thin line of fresh blood spilling over the hardened, clumpy mess. His nose had been broken at least once by his count, his lip split more times than he could keep track of, and he was quite sure that the filthy conditions of the hideout and the little room the kept him locked in were going to result in at least a minor infection if things kept up. "If" was a joke at this point, he had been at the mercy of his family for a little over a week and things were only getting worse. Ric was stubborn, a tough nut to crack even if he looked like a bumbling idiot most of the time, and he was refusing to help out those he had fled from. They were not amused.
The unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh split the silence of the tense room as the big brute of a man who had taken over the gang after Ric had fled all those years ago threw yet another punch a the bound man. Blood splattered again and Ric's ears rang from the inside out. It was not necessarily that he was exceptionally tough, but he was drugged nearly out of his mind. The gang had gotten their hands on a knock-off of the power repression serum the American government was using, and was keeping Rictor pumped full of it at all times. The serum was bad enough in small doses, but as Ric was quickly discovering, it had side effects when used for too long. Dizziness, nausea and the usual 'drug haze' had come first, but after more than a week, Ric was starting to feel rather numb at times, and his short term memory was suffering. Then again, at least some of that could have been attributed to his treatment.
The first week after he was found, jumped and transported back across the border had just been a bit of fun and revenge for the gang. Beat the shit out of the one that got away. Teach him he was not above the laws of the gang, that blood was too thick for him to play dead and get away with. They had not bothered with mind games, just gone straight for physical punishment, and did so whenever they chose. Once their anger was somewhat quelled, they intended to make Rictor useful, make him repay them for some of the time and trouble they went through trying to track him down after he vanished. It turned out to be somewhat more difficult than expected. Ric had pride, he had developed some kind of honor during his time away from the gang, and he was simply refusing to use the skills they wanted him to. Threats fell on seemingly deaf ears, punches and kicks did next to nothing, and those two combined only made Ric stare down the barrel of their guns with longing eyes. He had not expected to live past the first hour they located him, his still being alive was a shock, not to mention a living nightmare. In a way a bullet to the head would only have been a mercy just now. It took a few weeks for the gangsters to get wise, but at last they did.
"Fine," Andres announced in a growling tone, wiping his bloody knuckles off on his jeans. He had taken over the position Rictor had once held in the gang, and was highly irritated that his cousin was such a dirty traitor. He had hoped that once they got him back, he would remember himself somehow and fall back into line, work with and for the family again. Clearly, he thought, Ric had lost the plot. "If you won't listen to me, maybe there is someone you'll listen to." He glanced around to the other men who had been standing by, watching Andres beat the bound Rictor bloody, then nodded to one. He pulled away from the group, but Ric made no effort to watch where he was going.
"Julio!" The high, familiar voice made Ric's swollen eyes widen and every muscle in his body tense. A flash of movement and a short woman rushed to his side, dropped to her knees beside the chair he was tied to and threw her arms around his battered body. She cried into his arm, babbling swiftly in Spanish as her voice rose and fell shrilly with emotion. "Oh, Julio, my son! Oh I have worried about you! You are back, you will be safe with us. Why are you being so difficult? Andres tells me you are still forsaking the family. Julio, my Julio, please... please do not make this so hard on yourself! We have missed you, my son."
On and on she went, tears streaming down her face as she tried to soothe Ric's tense body, his bloody face, tried to comb his dusty, greasy hair. Rictor kept his mouth tightly shut, fighting back strangled sounds of emotion when she began to explain how they knew he was a mutant, how they did not hate him and would forgive him for being one. How hard life had been without him, how she had worried and missed him, how she always knew he would return. If Rictor had thought life this past week had been a living hell, he was certain he had just passed into the innermost level of the Inferno.
"Well?" Andre spoke up when Ric's mother at last dissolved into quiet weeping. "Are you ready to stop breaking you poor mother's heart and come back to the family?"
No answer. Ric closed his eyes and did his best to steady his breathing, feeling his heart crack into many fragments. Andre flushed red with fury for a moment before he spoke again, his anger fueled by the quiet rumbling mutters of the rest of the gang.
"Fine then! If you will be this way--"
"AIEEEE!!!"
Ric's eyes flew open as he heard his mother scream. Andre grabbed the elderly woman by the back of her shirt and ripped her away from Rictor. Holding the trembling woman against his chest, he pulled his gun and settled the barrel against her temple. The woman began babbling in Spanish, tears streaming anew, this time out of terror, as she begged Rictor to stop him and offered prayers to a God Rictor was now entirely sure did not exist.
"NO! Mama!" He shouted, voice croaking with disuse and emotion. His body jerked forward after her, pulling at the restraints wrapping his form.
"It didn't have to be this way, Julio, Andre announced in a low, menacing tone. He cocked the gun, causing a short scream to leave the woman's throat. "Do it, now. It will take you no time," he barked the command before a cold, mirthful smile curled his lips. "Or the woman gets it."
"No!" Ric tried again, his voice high and thin with hopelessness. His head dropped far forward, shoulders sagging and shaking a moment with silent, repressed sobs. He was entirely sure that he would be crying, were his eyes not so swollen that his tear ducts were squeezed shut. "...All right," he muttered lowly, words slurring thanks to the various breaks in his lips. "Free my hands, let her go, and I'll do it.
"Oh no, Julio. Do it and then we'll think about letting her live. Do it. Now." He gave the last command to the other thugs in the room, who hurried to free Ric's hands, then stepped back to let the injured man work.
Ric's hands shook as he stumbled towards the computer console and tried to clear his vision. The machine was ancient, it certainly was not equipped with the hacking gear he was used to, and between his fuzzy eyesight and poorly functioning brain, what should have been a simple hack ended up taking nearly ten minutes. It was tense, he swearing now and again as he messed up, forgot commands and did his best to ignore the shouts and threats of his now more powerful cousin. At last the site surrendered, flashing a welcome screen as the gang received full access to various personal files of a large company in Mexico, from addresses, marital statuses to national identification numbers. Rictor was literally thrown out of the way as one of the thugs pounced on the machine to download all the information they could.
Ric hit the floor with a thud, malnutrition, drug injections and severe beatings leaving him little if any strength at all. He tilted his head up and back, blurry eyes focusing on Andre and his mother. Andre chuckled, patted the head of the elderly woman, then carelessly shoved her aside. He strolled to where Ric lay with a cocky swagger and crouched over his form.
"There, my friend. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He taunted with a slick smile as he roughly patted Ric's cheek. His smile quickly melted into a sneer as he stood, roughly booted Ric's side, drawing a short howl of pain, and quickly made for the door. "Get him out of my sight."
The woman looked from Andre to her son and back again, eyes filled with fear. "But, what about-? You said that if he helped you, you'd let me--"
Andre cut her off without even looking at her. "Get her out of my sight, too." Pain stabbed at Ric's chest once again. He closed his eyes to try and block out the pain and fear on his mother's face, and the world went blessedly black for a very long while.
* Italicized conversations translated from Spanish