Sounds of hurried footsteps and muffled yelling pulled Tom out of an agitated sleep. He looked towards the door, but it was still closed, he was still alone. And even if silence now surrounded him, he knew there was something different.

"Move!" Snitch Gravel's voice sounded from outside the door.

Tom picked up his sunglasses and shoved them on, then lay back dead on the floor. No matter what had happened, it was best to fake sleep.

Snitch Gravel burst into the room, Ron on his heels. He was once again wearing jeans and a scarlet t-shirt and looked more worried than Tom had ever seen him.

"Good thing he's asleep. It will make things a lot easier," he mumbled to Ron. "Though we should make sure first..."

"Sir!"

A tall, well-built black man entered the room in a hurry and stopped next to Snitch Gravel, hitting his fist against his chest in salute. Snitch Gravel copied him absently.

"I'm listening," he said, his eyes on Tom again.

"Something's not right. I heard noise in your office, but when I checked, no one was there. But I don't think I've imagined the noise," the guard reported.

"Yeah, thought so. Did you check the console?" Snitch Gravel asked.

"No, I didn't check it properly, but it was shut down," the guard answered with uncharacteristic confidence. He did not seem like the regular doofus henchman.

Snitch Gravel rubbed his goatee, looking from the guard to Ron. "Rudolpheus, come to my office and I'll check the console," he said to the guard. "About Tom... Ron..."

"Sure, I'll take care of him," Ron said cheerfully.

"No. I want you to go get Von Crooken and bring him to my office. I will give him instructions regarding Tom there," Snitch Gravel cut him off and turned to leave the room.

A shiver ran down Tom's spine, and he did his best not to move.

"Excuse me?" Rom spluttered. "You're going to let Von Crooken take care of Tom? He'll kill him as soon as he lays eyes on him! I won't let you do this!"

"Are you suggesting you should give the orders around here?" Snitch Gravel said in a low, dangerous voice, narrowing his eyes at Rom.

"Sir, Ron's right," the guard interjected. "Von Crooken will surely kill the kid."

Thank you, Rudolpheous.

"I know!" Snitch Gravel yelled at the two of them.

Ron and the guard both flinched and stepped back. Snitch Gravel glared at them for a moment then buried his face in his hands.

"Out of all times, Nicholas found this a good time to grow a spine. Damn those kids for choosing the worst possible moment to break in! Why did they have to escape the Pueblo so fast?" Snitch Gravel raised his face, an air of determination surrounding him. "I'll deal with Nicholas. Ron, quit questioning my orders and do what I've asked. And Rudolpheus, come with me."

No one said another word as they all left the room. Tom sat up and rested his forearms on his knees, breathing deeply. Snitch Gravel didn't want him dead yet, but Ron and the guard were right. Von Crooken proved he could misinterpret orders with ease. He almost poisoned Snitch Gravel, for Christ's sake.

But why did Snitch Gravel act like he cared? And why did he feel like the man who was supposed to be his mortal enemy was an ally against Von Crooken? Probably because he was scared out of his mind. Alive didn't necessarily mean well or in one piece, and he was certain what followed would be painful. Very painful.

He lied back on the ground deciding to continue feigning sleep in case Von Crooken came in with a massive number of men. He didn't want to give them the chance to beat him up just for the hell of it. And not a moment too soon! The door opened and Von Crooken strode into the room accompanied by only one other person.

Another shiver ran down Tom's spine, and he couldn't keep his body still this time. Cannon. That freaky psychotic cannibal who'd almost killed him in the jungle and who had pushed his threshold of pain to a whole new level.

He looked weird, taken out of his jungle environment and dressed in raggedy pants and a stained shirt. The paint on his face was gone too, letting Tom see the lines properly. They weren't lines, but tattoos, making him look even creepier. His long black hair was tied up in a messy bun on the top of his head.

For a moment, Tom wondered if he should charge at them and attempt an escape. If his brothers had really broken in, the other men would be busy. But, as if guessing his thoughts, Von Crooken pulled out a pistol and pointed it at him then indicated to Cannon to get in the cage.

Deciding that playing dead was still the best strategy, Tom waited as Cannon entered the cage and started tying up his wrists with rough rope. Tom clenched his fists, trying not to shove them down Cannon's throat, but a bullet wound was not what he needed right then. 

"Move him out," Von Crooken ordered and Cannon yanked him by the rope and started dragging him across the floor.

"Ouch, watch it asshole!" Maybe not the best conversation starter, but there was no way in hell Von Crooken would believe he would sleep through this.

"Ah, it speaks," Von Crooken sneered, throwing him a backward glance.

Tom fought the impulse to stick his tongue out at him, but he was half afraid Cannon would chop it up and eat it. Cannon sniggered and dragged him even harder across the floor, towards the wall on the right side of the door.

Once they reached it, Von Crooken pushed a brick and the wall slid aside. Cannon dragged him into the small dark room without further ado. Once Von Crooken posted himself in the doorway, Tom couldn't see anything.

Cannon moved away from Tom, and he tried to scramble to his feet, but before he could stand, his wrists were brutally yanked upwards, and his feet left the ground. He struggled, but the motion only increased the pressure on his wrists, so Tom did his best to still himself instead. A weak red light filled the room, and he found himself admiring his own feet which were about an inch off the ground.

Von Crooken finally lowered his pistol and closed the door behind him. "Welcome to your new abode."

"I liked the old one better," Tom mumbled. "More space."

"Ah, but the details in this one are so much better." Von Crooken snapped his fingers and Cannon left Tom's line of sight. "Like your blood on the floor."

Tom stared him down, his heart beating erratically. Blood. His blood and there was nothing he could do about it. No amount of struggle could get him free and he was still weak from being electrocuted. The only thing he had left was rage and a smart mouth. And the hope Sam and the others would find him soon.

"What? No snappy answer?" Von Crooken asked, raising a disappointed eyebrow.

"You know what Nicholas? Screw you!" Tom said. And if he wasn't thirsty, he'd spit in his face for good measure. "I don't care what you do to me anymore. I know Snitch Gravel ordered you not to kill me and I also know that my brothers are going to come and bust me out and kick your ass."

"I'm sorry to interrupt your vicious monolog," Von Crooken said, bored. "But your brothers will be long dead before they reach this room which, by the way, I'd like to see them find. And even if the boss ordered me not to kill you, I still get to have fun. Like make you forget everything you've seen inside our compound." Von Crooken shrugged. "Which is good enough for me."

"Make me forget?" Tom asked surprised. "I'm not forgetting anything!"

"We'll see about that," Von Crooken sneered.

Tom could feel Cannon coming up behind him and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. But he was not going to break, not going to show how scared he was.

"Oh, this is sooo good, little animal. Almost as good as skinning you alive," Cannon cooed and the sound of a whip snapping against the wall cut through the room.

Terror, anger, disgust... Tom grabbed on to the only feeling he had that didn't make him want to cry or throw up. "You know what, Cannon? Screw you, too, you sick bastard! I hope you—" He bit his tongue so hard, blood filled his mouth. His entire body tensed as Cannon left a burning gash in his back.

"Now sing for us," Von Crooken said viciously.

Tom shut his eyes tightly and only let out a weak moan when the whip cut into his flesh. He could do this. He just had to concentrate on something else. Sam, where are you?

"Stubborn, aren't we? Well, let's see how long you'll hold out," Von Crooken said pleased.

The scraping of a chair across the floor had Tom's eyes darting open. Von Crooken sat himself down, watching him as if he were a captivating TV show. Who does that?

Tom glared at him and started singing the alphabet inside his head, imagining stuffing every fat letter down Von Crooken's throat. It was the only thing keeping him sane as Cannon's whip danced on his skin.

Yay for update! Yes, things are getting a little hot and heavy for Tom. Stay tuned to find out what happens next!

Thanks for reading and don't forget to vote and leave me your thoughts on this part :)