OOM: Day Three

[latino_menace]

There's something odd about places like this when they're empty. Normally a club is full of people, even when closed to the public. Packed out every night but even during the day there are cleaners and staff and deliveries to take and things to be done. They're rarely still.

Of course now, this one is. About twenty three hours a day nothing stirs in it, dust sheet over the upholstery and builders tools left lying around. Every step echoes through the place, every noise magnified. Unfortunately for Angela, a joint of even medium size - like this one - will absorb sounds from the basement.

Ramon's come in today to check on her. He sits at a table on the edge of the dance floor. None of the lights are on so the place is only bright near the windows really...he's in near darkness, face lit only by the glare of his computer screen and the ever-present cigarette that burns in the ashtray beside him. The smoke mostly gets forgotten about, because his eyes are fixed on the girl on the screen, almost unblinking in their scrutiny.

You should die. You should die painfully, with me going to work on you with a knife. You'd understand, then, why this is necessary. I don't think you understand at the moment, but you would. Because I'd tell you why as I killed you slowly - Jack loves you. That's why. It's reason enough. Haven't you figured yet that everything he touches gets ruined? He touched my business and now I'm having to fight to save it. If he had his way, he'd ruin me completely. Kill me. You should die for that. And, you know? If I got to kill you in return for what he did, it'd be nothing to do with you. Nothing personal. It'd be worth it to see him collapse though - because it is personal against him.

He thinks he gave her too much Valium really, she's barely moved since he got here almost an hour ago. But that's OK. It strikes him as funny that if he keeps her here for a while and leaves her doped up all the time, there's a chance of addiction to the stuff. Which would be ironic - and fitting - given his past with Jack and heroin.

You'll take after your grandfather. Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you. And hey, do you know I nearly killed your father once? Not all that long ago, for me. I had him tortured, and my brother shot a bullet through his hand. You see Angela? You're just joining the fine traditions of the Bauer family. Aren't you proud?

She moves, turns onto her side from where she'd been spreadeagled on her back. His eyes follow her in the gloom and he smirks, bringing the cigarette to his lips and taking a deep drag.

I could break you the way I broke him. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime, if you ever find out who you were talking to the other day. Would you like to hear that? How he was a quivering mess and a junkie and couldn't do the job he was supposed to do at all? How he got desperate and nearly fucked everything up?

..how he managed to fool me into believing he wanted a career in my cartel. You know how he did that? By being fucking good at it. By doing what he was told, by killing without thinking about it, by taking people out who were trying to stop me. People with families, that tried to resist my bribes.

Would you think well of him if you knew that, Angela? Would you cry if I told you that its his choices that have put you here right now? Maybe I should tell you anyway. Maybe that would break you more than just beating you up. It might. Shall we see?

He wants to. Really wants to. But it would give the game away...
Would that be so bad? I don't like hiding like this. I want him to know that I did it, that I got to him again. That I can do it whenever I want. That I haven't forgotten and never will.
...and there are other factors here, ones that can't be ignored - like Random and Arithon. Two compelling reasons and until they can be worked around, subtlety needs to be employed. It's not what he's used to doing, but he'll try and adapt.

It's not easy though, sitting there in the gloom and watching her. She's spaced out, he can see that.
She's virtually passed out, she wouldn't even know.
She's also dressed only in her underwear and his gaze is dark, hateful, though it doesn't move from the screen.
Not worth it anymore. But if things were different...Jesus, breaking you would be fun.
So much I could do, but I'm not. I hope your grandfather realises and is fucking grateful. He knows what I'd normally do.

But in the end, he doesn't. Subtle is the order of the day - and time's getting on here. He can't afford to sit and watch for hours, there's work to be done.

She's not moving. He gets up and throws some more food into a box, salty as before and in its safe plastic containers. Two more two-litre bottles of water, both heavily spiked with Valium. She'll be quiet after having those and he won't have to come here often now, because she'll make no sound to be heard. Ten minutes a day to give her some water to wash with, and that's it.

The box is placed on the floor outside the room and the lights turned on again. He simply opens the door - remaining behind it - and slides the thing through the doorway with his foot, glimpsing at her only once round the edge. Then he slams it shut again and this time, the lights remain on for a while.

He hadn't been able to resist. It's just a small dig, but given what she was screaming the day before, he thinks it'll be effective. And so, Angela will be able to read a printed note, stuck to the top of the box.

* * * * *

Miss Edmunds

Your grandfather hasn't done what I've asked yet. He's showing no signs of doing it. Do you think he cares enough to save you?

* * * * *

Ramon adjusts the light setting of the camera and goes back upstairs to watch. He's not going to miss her reaction to that note for the world. But he can't help thinking as he makes his way back across the empty dance floor to his seat in the darkness,

I could be doing so much worse.