Cain woke -feeling like it had been an entire 24 hours since he'd gone to bed- in a dark room sore, like somebody had beaten him, slumped awkwardly in an uncomfortable wooden chair, with something -presumably tape- over his mouth. Confused at his restricted movement, Cain started yanking at whatever was holding his arms and legs in place. But to no avail.
"I wouldn't over exert myself if I were you," he heard a thickly accented Irish voice say. "You might strain yourself."
Cain stopped moving and turned toward where the voice came from and glared. I need to get out of here, he thought, And I'm practically naked. He remembered that he had stripped before going to bed.
The guy started talking again, but Cain was only half listening. He was quietly working the knot stuffed between his wrists. He was actually worried about how easily he was undoing his bonds.
"Now, what I want from you is information," Cain dramatically rolled his eyes. Like I could give you information if I wanted to, he thought, you have tape over my mouth, dumb shit. "Information on a drug cartel running through the southern states of America."
Drug cartel? Cain was beginning to panic, then mentally kicked himself. You're a friggin' NCIS special agent, Tenebris. Get ahold of yourself.
He felt the knot loosen a little, but not enough to allow him any more flexibility. He was starting to get frustrated with these people. He had no part in, nor did he even know that there was a drug cartel running through the "southern states of America." He would love to tell the guy this valuable information, but there was the inconvenient piece of tape covering his mouth, therefore, hindering his speaking abilities.
Suddenly there was a loud BANG and buzzing fluorescent lights blazed on overhead. Cain was momentarily blinded, and he ducked his head reflexively, only to have it jerked back up by a rough hand in his hair. He grunted in surprise, but kept his eyes shut tight.
"Now," the Irishman said, ripping the tape off his mouth. "You will tell me where the cartel is now and where it will hit next."
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Cain told him calmly, "But I don't know shit about your cartel."
"Don't lie to me, lad," he said shoving Cain's head forward, "I know you're the one working the case involving this particular team of drug lords."
"Oh yeah?" Cain laughed squinting up at his captor, "Glad to be the last to know that I'm working cases involving drug lords."
"Do not mock me, Johnson," his captor warns, "I will rip you to shreds."
Johnson? Did this dumbass seriously just call me Johnson? You have got to be kidding me. Cain must've had a confused look on his face.
"Yes, we've done our homework on you-" Which apparently didn't involve a picture, but okay, he thought "-which revealed some very useful information about you. As well as your lovely wife and beautiful baby boy." I cannot let Leon's family be harmed. I just have to go with it.
"Listen, guy," Cain said, "I seriously don't know anything about any drug cartel."
"I said do not lie to me!" The Irishman shouted before landing a blow to Cain's jaw.
Cain licked the blood off his lip where his teeth bit into the flesh. He rolled his shoulders and went back to worrying the knot.