[The scene was slightly different than the one Majima had seen when he was being pushed away from his own hellscape. It had shifted to fit into Zhao's memories more. The men were the same, all Chinese descended, and there was the large, commanding man in white that stood out the most. He stood dead center with the poise of a large predator. At ease and yet ready to pounce in an instant.
And then there was Zhao, tied up and bruised from an obvious beating, a little blooded around the mouth. The light in his eyes had faded but the smirk stayed defiantly on his lips just out of spite.
The biggest changes were in the surroundings. It was no longer dark, the room didn't smell of blood or sweat or decay, and there were decorations and intricate designs all along the walls. The brightly lit room screamed Chinese composition, with decorations befitting an expensive house or office. It may or may not have been immediately obvious that this was one room of many in a Chinese restaurant. It was the complete opposite from the Hole and yet the scene was clearly one of malice and of torture to come.
Honestly, Zhao was surprised he hadn't ended up in one of the meat lockers or something. He supposed Mabuchi had wanted to keep him closer though as he appeared to have some sort of meeting approaching which he would probably take to the main room on the floor, the largest dining area with a prominent seat of honor on a dais.]
You're going to tell me what I want to know. [Mabuchi was still talking. Making demands and determined that he would get what he wanted out of Zhao.] It's only a matter of time.
[That was sort what Zhao was counting on: time. The longer he held out, the more likely a rescue might occur. He had no idea if one would actually happen, but if not... well, he'd hold out as long as he could. And maybe, just maybe, he'd have the guts to hold out until death. Let Mabuchi curse Zhao's stubbornness to the grave and regret taking over as he tried to figure out all the secrets for himself. What the bastard deserved.]
Get his tongue loose. [Mabuchi ordered his boys.] I'd love to continue holding this conversation with you myself, Zhao, but I have an appointment to keep. We'll talk later. You'll talk later.
[Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, asshole. Zhao thought really loudly just on the off chance he could convey it through his stubborn glare. Mabuchi just smirked before he turned away and walked out.
That left Zhao with the boys loyal to Mabuchi. All ready to play some more. And by play we really meant beat the crap out of until he was ready to talk the next time Mabuchi made his presence known.
Zhao lifted his lips into a painful grin showing his teeth like a feral animal.]
Time to show me what ya got, boys. Make it count. You know what he'll do if you don't. [He sucked on his teeth and forced out a laugh.] Besides, I'd hate to get bored now.
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[The scene was slightly different than the one Majima had seen when he was being pushed away from his own hellscape. It had shifted to fit into Zhao's memories more. The men were the same, all Chinese descended, and there was the large, commanding man in white that stood out the most. He stood dead center with the poise of a large predator. At ease and yet ready to pounce in an instant.
And then there was Zhao, tied up and bruised from an obvious beating, a little blooded around the mouth. The light in his eyes had faded but the smirk stayed defiantly on his lips just out of spite.
The biggest changes were in the surroundings. It was no longer dark, the room didn't smell of blood or sweat or decay, and there were decorations and intricate designs all along the walls. The brightly lit room screamed Chinese composition, with decorations befitting an expensive house or office. It may or may not have been immediately obvious that this was one room of many in a Chinese restaurant. It was the complete opposite from the Hole and yet the scene was clearly one of malice and of torture to come.
Honestly, Zhao was surprised he hadn't ended up in one of the meat lockers or something. He supposed Mabuchi had wanted to keep him closer though as he appeared to have some sort of meeting approaching which he would probably take to the main room on the floor, the largest dining area with a prominent seat of honor on a dais.]
You're going to tell me what I want to know. [Mabuchi was still talking. Making demands and determined that he would get what he wanted out of Zhao.] It's only a matter of time.
[That was sort what Zhao was counting on: time. The longer he held out, the more likely a rescue might occur. He had no idea if one would actually happen, but if not... well, he'd hold out as long as he could. And maybe, just maybe, he'd have the guts to hold out until death. Let Mabuchi curse Zhao's stubbornness to the grave and regret taking over as he tried to figure out all the secrets for himself. What the bastard deserved.]
Get his tongue loose. [Mabuchi ordered his boys.] I'd love to continue holding this conversation with you myself, Zhao, but I have an appointment to keep. We'll talk later. You'll talk later.
[Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, asshole. Zhao thought really loudly just on the off chance he could convey it through his stubborn glare. Mabuchi just smirked before he turned away and walked out.
That left Zhao with the boys loyal to Mabuchi. All ready to play some more. And by play we really meant beat the crap out of until he was ready to talk the next time Mabuchi made his presence known.
Zhao lifted his lips into a painful grin showing his teeth like a feral animal.]
Time to show me what ya got, boys. Make it count. You know what he'll do if you don't. [He sucked on his teeth and forced out a laugh.] Besides, I'd hate to get bored now.