VECTOR IN DC

That morning, the people of Gotham City and beyond woke up to the news of the arrested young man Tom Hendricks. Who was still in custody under charges of being an accomplice to the incident that took place some nights back, causing quite stir on the media.

“The kid said he had some business to take care of, wasn’t expecting him to get himself arrested for it.” Deathstroke muttered as he wiped his blade with a peace of white cloth, displaying an array of lined up bullets on the table right in front of him.

“Is it that surprising? I only spent a brief moment with that ass hole and even I can tell he’s a complete nutcase.” She said to him with mockery in her tone.

“I see you’ve regained enough strength to speak, now we can either resume with your torture or you could use that little strength of yours to spill the answers to the questions I asked you.” Deathstroke said as he stood up from his seat, grabbing a pair of bloodstained pliers from the table next to him before approached her.

“Why are you after that brat?” He asked her while snapping the plier as he walked circles around strung up girl.

“Has it occurred to you that maybe I just happen to hate him bad enough to want him dead?”

“No, from what I heard this isn’t a personal vendetta. Someone wants him dead, and am getting paid a good sum to find out who.” He paused, then continued.

“You still have five good looking fingernails left on you, I suggest you start talking or it would only lead to more pain.” Making a stop right in front of her, he continued. “Who do you work for and why do they want the kid dead?”

“What does it matter to you anyway? I didn’t think a big scary man like yourself would answer to a little boy who couldn’t even get himself from getting arrested.” Deathstroke smacked her so hard across the face that she got bleeding lips. “That’s none of your business, and I do not answer to him but someone far above.

Spitting some blood on the ground, she turned to Deathstroke by her side, then said in a mocking tone. “You hit like my girlfriend.”

“Now that’s some information, now tell me what I need to know.” He said, grabbing her right hand which still had it’s fingernails and seemed to be her dominant hand from the way she tried to protect it struggling to pull it away from him but was futile.

“I admit it was a smart move disguising your assassination attempt as a robbery, making it seem like he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Adding more depth to his gruff voice as it added more tension to the situation. “Let’s try this one more time, who do you work for?” He asked, clipping her index finger with the plier before forcefully ripping it right out.

She let out a scream from the pain, while her hand began to shake as blood dripped from the injured source. “Here we go again.” He said as he clipped onto another finger, she struggled against it but to no avail. “When am done with your fingernails and you still haven’t told me anything, then I’d start with your toes, one after the other untill I am done with each one of them.”

He tightened his grip on her arm and was about ripping out another finger when she screamed…”Wait…” She paused, taking a deep breath of relief from the halted torture. “Speak.” Slade commanded, tightening his grip on her hand.

“I don’t work for anyone, I’m only a mercenary who got the job of exterminating the white haired.” She confessed.

“There’s more to it. Spill it all and do not lie to me, trust me, I’d know if you do.” He threatened. “Who made the request for his head?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” She replied, but Deathstroke wasn’t having it. He ripped out about finger and say… “Try again.” While she screamed out, unable to bear the consecutive torture anymore.

“I don’t know, I just accept request passed down to me. I don’t care about the identity of a client or the target, so long as I get paid.” She winced out in pain, tears finally made it’s way to her eyes as it gathered around it, just a push away from dripping down her cheeks.

“Request passed down to you? Meaning you’re nothing but an underling. Tell me about your superiors, their identities and what this little organization is called.” Sounding like he was just one wrong answer away from ripping out another fingernail, he pressed on.

“I can’t do that, I don’t even know them myself.” She denied in a low but desperate tone, trying to justify her self proclaimed ignorance.

“Wrong!” He remarked as he ripped off her last fingernail, while she broke into another scream and the hovering tears began to drip down her cheeks like waterworks. “I swear I don’t know.”

“You’re all out of fingernails, but still have a good number of toenails in place.” He taunted as he walked over to the table in the workspace, dropped the pliers on it, then took a pair of pincers.

“There’s quite a number of body parts to dismantle till you’re willing to talk. Believe me when I say am starting to enjoy this little game of ours, hopefully you act tuff a few more times and refuse to crack.” Deathstroke continued to torment her both physically and psychologically, working to break her down at both ends.

Beneath her was a puddle of her own blood, a testament to Deathstroke’s heartless methods of getting the information required.

…

It’s been twenty four hours since Tom was taken into custody and according to the law he was to be released since the investigation they conducted had nothing on him being guilty for the accused crime.

He was currently seated with the commissioner who ran a close follow up of the case, leaving no stone unturned in his attempt to avenge his murdered colleagues.

But this time there was no proof of Tom’s affiliation to the committed crime, there for he required no more condemnation but his obsession with wanting someone to at least be punished, made him keep Tom a while longer even though he was going to be acquitted of all charges.

“I know how this looks, and if you’re innocent of the crime then it’s all been one heck of a misconception and I would apologize for all that. But if you’re found guilty of this crime, then you would have to lead us to your accomplice who murdered quite a number of our officers that night.”

His expression changed into one of a more serious one as he looked Tom straight in the eye but Tom just kept staring like he had nothing to fear but exhibited a subtle change in his body language which indicted he was somehow affected by that.

“She killed a lot of our good men you know, and you would definitely be doing a serious jail time if it’s found out that you were somehow an accomplice to the robbery and attack that night, so it’s best to spill the beans, and I would ensure you get a reduced sentence.” He said with a stern and intimidating tone.

“Sorry about that Mr Commissioner but I’m just an innocent victim of this situation, through out my stay in Gotham city for the past year, this is the first time I’ve been in the heat of the action. I have to admit that it had me almost shaking in my boots when she approached me, I was sweating profusely from the fear of loosing my life from the slightest of wrong moves.” Tom’s eyes slowly morphed into one’s filled with a soft and emotional expression as he looked back at the commissioner.

“Tell me about the other lady who killed off the remaining robbers, a full description.” He asked, shifting the conversation to get more detail from Tom since he seemed more compliant and open to sharing what he knew.

“Honestly I don’t know, all I remember was that she had black hair and was extremely deadly. She killed them with ease, seemly slitting their throats one after the other while dodging bullets as she closed in on them.” Tom elaborated.

“You seem a bit shaken by this, I have to say am a but surprised because you didn’t look the least affected earlier.”

“Seeing the bloodied bodies on the ground almost triggered a trauma of mine as it kind of reminded me of the most tragic and only memory of my parents I can currently remember.” His he looked away from the commissioner as if trying to hold back the water works.

“Sorry son, I know such incidents can be triggering, we do apologize for the mental and emotional trouble this might have caused you, but we have to do our job.”

 Commissioner Gordon said, feeling a bit sentimental as he had read Tom’s file and felt pity for the poor kid with diagnosed amnesia, and who had him convinced that he was indeed innocent of the crime, and was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

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