Retribution

Retribution
Chapter 4: Captured!


Murphy woke, his brain pounding against the insides of his skull. His arms were tied behind his back, he felt the cold steal of the chair under him. Tight ropes wrapped around his ankles, confining them to the legs of the chair. He opened his eyes, the room he was in was dark, a window to the right let soft moonlight filter threw the curtains, leaving only hallow shapes in hidden in the darkness.

He strained his muscles against his bonds but to no avail, the knots were tight, leaving no room for struggle. The moon revealed that he had been out the whole day, a fact that corresponded wonderfully to the ache in his head. He could feel the dried blood on his face, were it stuck to his skin.

Murphy twisted his body in an attempt to reach his hand down into his boot, where he always kept a dagger sheathed. He used to tell Connor that you never knew when you would need a big fucking knife, and Murph hoped and prayed that it was still there. However the distance was too great and in attempt after attempt he did nothing but cut his wrists on the ropes, eventually losing his balance, toppling the chair over on one side. His body fell on hard cement with a thud; sending waves of dull pain threw his skull. He moaned, but ignored the pain, thrusting his body to one side and straining one last time to reach his boot. Holding his breath, Murphy felt his fingers grasp the hem of his jeans, pulling them up, his heart dropped as he felt the empty sheath on the inside of his boot. It was gone.

At that moment the door lazily swung open, a shaft of light streamed into the darkness, blocked only slightly by a small feminine figure whose shadow fell on the wall Murphy was facing, because he was on his side he could not get a good look at the woman, or the two other figures that came into the room. The door closed and the room was once again filled with gloom, as Murphy lay frozen, keenly aware of the three standing behind him.

A woman’s soft laughter sounded as the light switch was flicked and light flooded into the room, momentarily blinding him. When his eyes focused once again he found himself laying on the floor of what was a very empty room, cold stone walls, matched the floor that was forcing feelings of ice threw his side, partially numbing his body. He looked back up and the window. It’s position and size, small and close to the ceiling, told him that he was in a basement.

Murphy heard footsteps behinds him accompanied by the hash click of heels, they moved around from his back to his feet and then forward till he finally got a glimpse at his captors. There were two men, one taller than the other, the taller man was younger and had black hair that swept across his face in a manner that suggested ‘rich punk’ to Murph. The shorter man was older than the first, he wore a ugly scar that laced over his cheek to his hair line, meeting with his steel grey hair. Murphy scowled up at them, then his eyes fell on the woman.
She hovered just behind the shorter man, brunette hair pulled into a loose braid that fell over her delicate shoulders. She wore a short burgundy skirt that slit up her pale thigh, and her full breasts pushed against the cream blouse that stretched over her chest. Smokey green eyes regarhim,him, totally expressionless, as he lay on the cold floor.

Murphy's right arm was beginning to go numb under the weight of his body and the steel chair he was tied to. Yet he lay there still as the dead, his eyes followed the three figures as they circled him like prey. The only sound in the barren room was the click-click of womawoman’s heels on the cement floor. Finally they stopped in front of him. The woman still staying to the back, out of the sight of her two companions. The younger man looked down at Murph with a smirk he slipped on hand into his pants pocket, moving aside his dress jacket to do so.

Looking down he spoke, contempt rolling off of his tongue like venom. "MacManus. You self righteous son of a bitch. Well, you don’t look very righteous now, eh?" His voice was thick and heavy with a Russian accent. "Piece of shit"

In a quick motion the younger man stepped forward, bringing the hard toe of his boot into the center of Murph’s stomach. He let out a grunt of pain as all the air was forced from his chest and had he not been tied up, Murphy would have doubled over in pain. While he tried to regain composer, the man kicked him again.

"Enough" The older man finally spoke, his voice rich and smooth. The younger man stopped and took a step back as his scared companion stepped forward.

"You will have to excuse my son, he has been most anxious for this meeting for quite some time." Murph noticed that the man limped slightly. "Sergei, would you be so kind as to set our guest on his feet, that must be so uncomfortable."

Sergei stepped up to Murphy again, bent and griped the sides of his chair. He lifted, muscles flexing under his shirt and coat, and set Murphy upright stepping back, keeping in Murphs blind spot.

Murphy didn't flinch, he kept his face cold and fearless as he leveled his gaze towards the old man who stood in front of him. His arm was sore from his fall and awkward position, but he ignored the pain and the feeling of needles, his stony expression hard and emotionless.

"There, that's much better" The man said, "Come, come, you don’t have to look so solemn. I have simply brought you here to settle a debt. It is a shame that your brother could not join us, but I'm sure that he will surface eventually."

The woman moved in the background.

"O but how can I b so callus? I know your name, but have not given you mine. It is Evan Petrofski, the girl is my daughter, and you know my son Sergei...my only son. Thanks to you and your family. But what is done can not be reversed. Only repaid. Although, I must say that little trip to Ireland was a bit out of the way, but you can’t put a cost on retribution can you?"

"You fucking bastard, I'm going to fucking KILL you!" Murphy's chest heaved as he tried to contain the anger that pumped threw his veins, burning every inch of his body.

"Come now, there is no need for vulgar language. We are all civilized here.” He smiles at the cold fury on Murphy’s face. “Now, as much as I would like to stay and chat, I belive that I must make arrangements for your bother to join you, now wont that be nice?”

“Fuck you, you fucking Commie bastard”

“Tisk, tisk, Sergei? Why don’t you stay with our guest, make sure that he is comfortable.”

“Yes father”

“Very good” Petrofski bowed his head slightly, and exited quietly threw the narrow door.

Murphy could hear Sergei behind him, shifting his weight, he heard the soft russel of fabric and then, “Katrine, go now, you have played enough of your games, this is not the place for you.”

The girl was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed under her breasts, her expressionless eyes flashed in anger as her gaze fell on her brother.

She scowled and straightened her self, slowly making her way to the door. The sharp click of her heels sounded in the room as Katrine ignored her brother’s impatience, taking the time to rake her eyes over Murphy’s bound form. He glared at her, and much to his surprise, she winked before disappearing threw the door.

Sergei appeared in the corner of his vision. There was a flash of cold steal, and the jolt of metal on flesh and bone.