James sat in the room he had grown used to over the past... he wasn't quite sure. Six walls, one door. He was growing sick to his stomach from sitting in there without having anything to do really. He was tapping his fingers like crazy on his knees, the floor, his head when he felt the need to touch his hair, which was more often than anything else. He wasn't as beat up as he thought he might be if he was ever taken, but that wasn't to say he was in perfect condition. He sat in the corner, rarely getting up to do anything but grab food or get a change in view of the cell that didn't really have a real change in view...
Footsteps echoed down the corridor of the subway station as Ares moved towards the cell in which James sat. The beauty of the six-walled cell was that it was nearly impossible to discern one's true location from within. It hardly looked like something one would find on a morning commute. His black boots, polished to a sheen, made a
tap, tap as he moved along, hands in the front pockets of his skinny jeans. Ares came to a stop just before James's cell. Following a nod from him to one of the guards, the door was promptly unlocked long enough to allow the Maniac to pass into the small space. The mundane space was enough to drive anyone insane. He might have pitied the man...but he really didn't.
Ares consistently stood taller than James, but now the difference was even more noticeable with the long-haired prisoner sitting on the floor. Still, James was roughly thirty pounds of muscle heavier than he. With guards outside, however, it worried him little.
"You planning on talking now about where you were heading, pretty boy?" he sneered, scuffing the toe of one boot against the cement floor as he spoke.
"Or am I going to have to get someone to beat it out of you?"
James looked up from where he was tapping something absently at the floor upon hearing the door opening. James looked up, pulling his legs in to rest his arms on his knees, at Ares with a blank expression, then smiled slightly at the threat.
"What, can't do it yourself?" He asks, knowing it probably wasn't the best thing to do in his situation, but really not caring at this point. He had to be careful, silence wasn't something that he expected to be accepted with the Maniacs. Witty and smartass remarks weren't likely to elicit a good response either, but at least it made James feel better when he was sitting around, hating life because of where he was. However, hearing a threat about sending someone else to beat him up seemed far off and empty to him because it did require other people. If he threatened someone, he did it himself.
James felt his heart race but schooled his features, loosing the smile as easily as he had allowed it to grow.
"Do I plan on telling you where I was going? Well, let's see, I don't like you, you don't like me, you threatened me and keep me locked up in here, why would I want to, or plan to, talk to you about anything that could possibly help you? But let me do you a favor, I'll make your life a little easier because I am a nice person. I was heading out to meet a dealer for some ammo. Those guns I was carrying, I was in need of some more ammo when you idiots interupted." The lie flew out of James's mouth as if he just confessed to being out with Stella, which was really what happened. He had just barely gotten her through the door back to Phoenix headquarters before he took off again to avoid the Maniacs from finding their base, knowing he might not make it back that night.
He wondered if Ares would even believe him considering he had held over three magazines for each of his four guns. He tapped his fingers again, this time on his knees. He realized what he was doing and stopped, thinking he was picking up Caleb's habit. His face fell slightly as he thought of his friend, worried about him, but schooled his features yet again to avoid the attention he was sure Ares would give him.
Ares smirked and even gave a slight chuckle as though he were having fun with a friend.
"I'd rather not dirty my hands with your blood," he sneered, knowing, as James did, that should the prisoner lay a hand upon the questioner, guards would be all over him in seconds. He nearly threw a kick at James, but Ares decided against it. Not because he didn't want to "dirty himself", but because he was, for a moment at least, genuinely concerned about James's strength.
"Well, do you think you would tell me anything if I let you walk off scot-free?" he replied. Ares didn't expect a reponse, and he truly didn't want one. James's sarcasm was already beginning to piss him off. He wanted to call bullshit on James's story, but frankly, he couldn't. It made sense to him, unfortunately, for he had wanted something more exciting.
"Who's the dealer? I want to verify your alibi."
James wondered how long it would take him to choke the life out of Ares. Or better yet, whether or not the older guy had a gun on him, James could handle a gun much better than he could handle hand to hand fights. He did have a weight advantage though he was shorter. James didn't fear Ares, he feared the pain the guards outside would put him through. They would beat him until Ares was satisfied, possibly until he was dead. He had to get out without dying, if not for him, then those he knew. James tapped his fingers again in his anxiety, breathing deeply.
He nodded when Ares asked another question but noticed the anger coursing through the older guy. He was treading dangerous, extremely dangerous, ground. One step over line, fracturing Ares calm, he'd regret it, he wasn't an idiot. James watched Ares, smiling inwardly at the man being convinced.
"Some guy named Damien. I've known him about two weeks. He got me three magazines and I started going to him. He's left lower manhattan. He's probably in upper manhattan or hanging out in the shanties set up in Central Park. Now do I get to walk out of here? Or how about some piece of sanity and give me something to do?" James asks, not expecting to get anything, but feeling like he should ask in case someone eventually asked himself whether his captors were hospitable. He could answer with a no, but some people would require evidence, and this was clearly that.
Ares nodded slowly, and he removed one hand from his pockets to adjust the scarlet armband that wrapped around his bicep and around the white, short sleeve of his shirt. He wanted to beat the truth out of James. It killed him that he couldn't. Perhaps he was telling the truth, in which case, he had no right to beat anything out of him. It would do him no good, for a dead man meant little.
"Stay here," he said mockingly, smirking to himself as he exited the room, hoping to check if his alibi was valid.
Time passed. Perhaps it was fifteen minutes, perhaps it was an hour. Either way, the sound of Ares's boots on the tile floor sounded again, and the lanky male reappeared in the cell. It was obvious that he was not happy.
"How far do you think lying will get you here?" he snarled even before the door had shut behind him. His lips curled almost animalistically as he leaned down to shout in the prisoner's face. His fists clenched at his sides, making him look almost childish.
"You underestimate us. I'll make life miserable for you...your family, your..." He knew little about James's personal life, but he had little doubt that a man such as he would have trouble with ladies,
"...girlfriend."
James knew the instant Ares left the room the lie would fall to pieces. He had sat in his cell, tapping, humming, probably looking crazy if the Maniacs still had working cameras. Upon being told to "stay here" though, James couldn't help but roll his eyes. Yes, he was going to take a walk before Ares got back, he couldn't even move around in his small cell comfortably yet this guy was telling him not to leave?
James waited, knowing Ares was coming back. James wasn't sure if it was smart to send out the lie of Damien. Damien was the name of his uncle. At least he hadn't used Caleb's name, Caleb was still alive. James knew right away he was in trouble when Ares entered. The guy must have really believed that lie through and through... the idiot. James shrugged in response to the question, looking at a corner of the cell closest to him, trying to stay calm and not freak. James felt his heartbeat increase as Ares yelled at him, too close for James to be happy.
James was about to make a comment about how his life already was miserable when Ares began the threats towards James's loved ones. His real family was dead. He had those back with the phoenixes that he considered family, but that was it. That was still an empty threat. James heard Ares threaten Stella and lost control. Rage and fear ripped through him. He'd die before this b*st*rd touched her. James moved faster than he had in a long time, faster than he ever had in this cell. Ares was so close, it wasn't difficult for James's fist to make contact with Ares's jaw. James kicked out in the small room, hoping to get a rib or two cracked in the idiot. James couldn't help himself, he felt blinded by the rage. Nobody touched his girlfriend, nobody threatened her.
Ares had goaded him into being so stupid, but James didn't care. In the small room, James braced his hands on the wall and shoved off to allow him to slide towards Ares, hoping to make contact with something that would hurt, a rib, a liver, his groin of it was a possible target. James just wanted Ares to hurt. He hated this side of himself, the overprotective side that would do anything to protect loved ones. It didn't matter what happened to him though, Ares wouldn't touch his loved ones. Maybe it was because the Maniacs had gotten too close to getting Stella too that James had freaked and lost his cool. He would regret it later, but it felt good then to let off some steam.
The fist to his jaw sent Ares backwards and upwards as he staggered away. Something made a soft crunch beneath James's fist, and Ares suddenly held a hand up to his jaw, trying to tell it something was broken. Before he could tell, a swift kick met his ribcage. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees. The taller man gripped for James's hair as the shorter man sent another attack which connected with Ares's naval and, therefore, the flesh protecting his innards. He doubled over with a cry, hopefully pulling James down with him if he had gotten a grip on the long, dark locks.
James's face held no satisfction as he connected with Ares's body. When Ares grabbed his hair, it was all James could do to keep from automatticaly slapping at Ares's hand. He knew it would only make it worse. James went to the ground with Ares. One hand held onto the locks Ares held, trying to keep it from pulling while the other reached for Ares's throat. James brought his knee up to try and knee Ares in the liver with the leg not touching the grimy ground.
"I will kill you if you ever threaten me like that again," James growls, anger in his entire frame. He hadn't lost control like this in years...
Ares, beginning to grow more aware of James's fighting style, suddenly kicked up a leg and pushed back at the prisoner's knee, stalling him until the guards came in.
"I'll...kill you now," he shot back, making empty threats but hoping they would make some sort of impact. Salvation came soon in the form of black-garbed men and women who hoisted James off of Ares's body promptly. The long-haired male was pushed up against the wall and restrained by at least four of them.
Ares hefted himself up, refusing to grab the hand of a guard and appear weak. His jaw throbbed, his stomach ached, and his ribs burned.
"Who the hell taught you it was a good idea to attack your captors?" he snarled. His usually well-groomed hair was now ruffled messily. Ares took a step forward, hoping that now he could redeem himself with the guards hoping James back, but then he heard the sound of a pipe rattling against something metal. Katrina was summoning a meeting.
"Leave him, Ares?" one of the guards asked. Ares paused, still rubbing his jaw slowly.
"No...bring him with me. We'll make an example out of him." The guard who spoke nodded, and the group of them hoisted James up and out of the cell, restraining his arms and legs as Ares led the way towards the meeting.
"Good morning, Katrina!" he cried with fake enthusiasm as the guards once more pinned James down, though they pinned him to the ground this time.
James gave Ares a look of hatred, his breath coming in short gasps. He hadn't had such physical activity for days. His head hurt from getting slammed against the wall, it had made a somewhat sickening crack when it connected, probably louder for him than anyone else. James knew Ares couldn't kill him, not when the Maniac leader knew James knew more about the Phoenixes than any spy could figure out. If only Ares knew James was one of the leaders, he'd be livid. James let the guards grab him, not fighting as much because he knew it wouldn't do much. Upon being shoved against the wall, James went limp. These guards could hold him and why should he exert energy making their lives easier?
James would have laughed that he needed four guards to hold him, but he was still livid. James saw a bruise forming on Ares and could even feel one for himself forming on his shoulder. He felt the pain now. He had landed on it wrong, very wrong.
"Who the hell taught you to threaten someone better than you?" James shouts right back, straining agains this holders for a moment. James saw the punches coming and took a deep breath, ready for them to come.
He heard something that he never expected to save him. A ringing out of something metal on metal. Something was going on. James wished they'd leave him, but of course Ares was a mindreader and wanted to do whatever James didn't. James allowed himself to be carried from his cell. He watched where he was led, trying to figure a way out should he get a chance to leave his cell again. James felt like he was being paraded around like a prize. He hated it. Upon seeing an open door, James caught sight of a subway station. He was in the subway. He knew the subway from before the blackout. James got himself ready, he was getting out of here in three...two...one... He was pinned on the ground again. He wanted to groan but managed to keep it inside. He wasn't getting out of here for a while. James wondered if the floors had ever been cleaned with his face so close to it. He knew they hadn't. He kept quite as he watched Ares, wanting to borrow the bar Katrina held to hit him upside the head.
James watched Katrina, wondering how she would respond to seeing him and Ares, Ares a little worse for wear than him. James refused to make eye contact with those around him who watched him, but stared right at Ares and Katrina. He wasn't scared of them, he was scared of what they could do, he had told himself this for what... a week? Two?
