the aftermath of the bomb stung the ebony-haired man's broken, blood-stained fingers and bit his throat with the toxic aftertaste of chloroform. a tightly wrapped piece of foul-smelling fabric dug into his skin as it kept him seeing nothing but black; the thick, surrounding oxygen smelling of manufactured toxicity and heroin as iron made its toxic way up phil's nostrils from the blood-dripping ropes that bound him to a crooked, metal chair. "dan..." he whispered hoarsely, a thick rasp latching desperately onto his heaving breath as he heard shuffling footsteps belonging to more than a single person around him. he exhaled deeply, the lingering ash burning his throat as he tried to slow his breathing.

"who's there?" he forced after a minute of incomprehensible whispers and exiting footsteps against the unsettlingly echoing tile. suddenly, he felt a powerful hand collide against his chest, tempting the chair the dark-haired man was tied tightly to back and forth as someone behind him held him from falling completely backwards. "do you know how hard it was to keep you in the dark with this?" the overlooking man said darkly as he released phil, whipping the chair forward as the raven-haired man grit his teeth together.

"you traitor," he breathed, earning a dry chuckle from the man as he pulled down the bandana inhibiting phil's blurred vision. the same crooked smile phil had greeted with a sickeningly ordinary cup of coffee every day for years flashed tauntingly before him; the same tainted viridescent irises and softly curled, silk hair. "hey," connor smirked as he cocked his head to the side. "you're nothing to me," phil bared his teeth, his back heaving with hatred as he forced his wounded body forwards in the bone-chillingly cold chair. connor's tongue slid over the inside of his cheek as he stared into the raging eyes of the ex-cop; before suddenly leaning in until his lips were up against the side of his face, his uneven pants echoing in phil's ear.

"i always wanted you in, god, i wanted you in so badly," he exhaled shakily, phil growling as he raised his sliced-open leg as high as he could manage into connor's stomach; sending him cackling as he backed tauntingly away. "but pj never let me tell you." phil's eyes widened as his breath seemed to catch in the ghostly spiderwebs that tainted his throat. "chris said he was clean," he forced out as he blinked desperately, "you're lying." the standing brunette gave him a mocking grin. "don't worry, your little prison friend didn't lie to you, he didn't know pj was actually a founder of our organization. although," he said, pressing his palms into phil's bloodied knees, "it was still my idea. and let me tell you, it was a godsend. i've never gotten a paycheck easier."

phil scoffed, "i didn't think you believed in god." fingers dug into his shoulders as he was leant back again, conner's stained fingers tauntingly tilting his chin from side to side. "do you see what i've built? the empire i've created from nothing?," he growled, gesturing to the cult-like crowd of suits around him, "these people were damned to live as rats, eating shit off the road. but i've redeemed them, given them new life. i have every fucking power source in london, i am god." the raven-haired man coughed as connor's fist collided into his wiry stomach, and then to his nose; leaving a trickle of crimson to drip across his chewed lips. "you're psychotic," phil chuckled as he spat cerise on the brunette's shoes.

"and that howell bitch isn't? for god's sake, he's the one who killed your fiancé," connor shouted angrily as phil's smirk dropped instantly, forcing down the apathetic rage clogging his throat. "you're lying, again," he growled huskily; earning a short-lived chuckle from connor as he wiped off a silvery ring that decorated his bruised knuckles with a sharp, glinting blade. "granted, i paid the bitch to do it, but it still wasn't my knife that went through his lung," he shrugged mockingly as he inspected the rugged edge to the blade on his finger, the dark-haired man's blood-tinged irises shot wide open at the crimson-speckled tile.

"but i gotta hand it to the guy, the whole curare branding was pretty genius, in fact, i decided to take a page out of his book," he paused as his head cocked to the side as his eyes remained locked on the knifed ring. "this is a little something i've been working on for the past few months, i call it strychnine. not as catchy as curare, but it's a lot funner to watch," he shrugged as, in an instant, the blade pierced one of his followers, sending her convulsing body heaving blood onto the tile as she struggled for oxygen. "see?" he grinned after a moment, meeting phil's horror-stricken irises as the dark-haired man trembled at the corpse.

"now, lets have fun."

whoops