The first thing he did was knock on every door of the Sylvador manor, and make note of any member that had an injury. No matter how small. There was alot. This was a gang after all.
The second thing he did was cross off anyone with a burn wound or a bullet wound. Ghost was an excellent rooftop sniper, but she hated guns and didnt keep any. He hadn't found any shells in her room anyway.
The third thing he did was pull all the men on his list into a tiny room filled with sharp objects. There was six of them and two of the three laughing men were there, but they wouldnt be laughing today.
Scar paced the room. "Somone in this room did somthing unthinkable yesterday. Somthing that was a blasphemous betrayal to the gang, and..." he lowered his voice to a near whisper. "If they confess, they may be spared MOST of the hell that is about to rise up and swallow them whole."
The six men all stood across from them. All staring at their shoes. All trying there best to avoid being noticed.
"You!" He pointed his knife at the first man.
"Name! Now."
"Richardson sir. You know that."
He threw his knife toward Richarson's arm it pinned his sleeve to the dry wall and red stained the fabric. He had knicked him on purpose. He knew without inspecting the cut was half a centimeter thick.
"Do not test me, 'Richarson'," he spat the name, and looked closer until he was looking the man in the eye. He knew the man wasn't guilty, but he was never one to play favorites.
"State your injuries and how you obtained them."
"I... got a...kitten sir. It scratched my arm."
He covered his eyes with his hand. Completely taken aback, and on the verge of laughing despite everything.
In a low voice he exhaled his words softly, "What kind of gangster owns a fucking kitten."
Without waiting for a response he stepped forward and pulled the knife from the wall.
"Get out!Now!" Richarson left the room in a hurry.
He turned, stormy eyed, to the other five men in the room.
He pointed his knife absently at the second man,
"You," he lowered it walking to the table on the far wall and sitting.
"Same question, and dont tell me you got it breaking up a bunny fight."
The man cleared his throat, and started nervously, "My woman is a dancer, sir." he swallowed like he really didnt want to continue. "She uh... she got in a fight with another dancer. I tore them off of each other... and got my arms and face scratched up in the process."
He knew this man, he suspected he was telling the truth, and he knew his girl, Roslin, she was a real feisty one. It didnt stop him from casting out two blades in the span of five seconds both of his sleeves were pinned a centimeter into his flesh and he held a knife at his throat, "Are you trying to be funny with me?" he whispered in a deadly tone.
"N-nno sir." He stuttered. He spun his blade into his jacket and pulled out his other two.
"Stand to the side."
He looked at the third man.
"Go on. You know what I want."
This man was one of the laughers and he looked terrified.
"I confess. I was involved with what went down with Ghost."
He stared at him calmy. He turned to the bunny scratch man by the wall and signaled him over.
"Get a nice sturdy chair from the corner there. Tie him nice and tight."
The man nodded and dragged the chair over he pushed the smaller man into the chair and began bonding him as Scar looked at the forth man.
"I was in a bar fight boss. You were there that night."
He nodded, "I remember, help bind him would you?" He did remember the man being shanked by a broken boddle about 3 weeks ago. It had been a wild night.
The man nodded and began bonding the third man who's eyes were widened by fear and his lips muttered a prayer in another language, perhaps Bogardian.
Although, Scar was fluent in language the man spoke too softly to be heard clearly.
He turned to the fifth man, it was another innocent. He knew because he had a job across town yesterday. He had know and brought him here as a form of back up in case things got too out of hand.
So far they were going well, "I know your good, move aside."
The sixth man had a glare on his face and visible scratches on his face. His thoughts flashed to Ghost's hand the other day. She had flesh beneath her nails.
"And you?" His voice was impressively calm, but still cold as ice.
The man's eyes sparkled in amusement, "A prostitute got a little fiesty with me boss."
He felt his blood boil as he turned away from the wall.
"Anyone who can vouch for you?"
The man smirked, "A fellow up on the second floor."
"Step aside." he said coldly.
He spun toward the bound man and pulled out his collection of dull blades.
***
Ghost's eyes blinked open slowly , and she tried to sit up. Her stomach was on fire. A hand grabbed her shoulder and all the terror of the night before came back to her in a brutal realization.
A man's gaze met her's and talked to her gently.
"Easy, you need to lay back down. You've been diced up real bad." She relaxed against the pillows but kept a weary eye on him.
He placed a glass of water in her hand and some pills. Seeing her hesitation he bent on a knee and whispered to her softly.
"Scar sent me to take care of you. You have nothing to fear from me."
She took the pills and a while later she also took the bread he offered. Exhausted she fell back into an uneasy sleep.
***
The man in the chair was tacked to the chair by his hands. Two thick blades embedded into the wood of the chair.
His screams had been heard throughout the manor.
" I'll tell you anything boss. I swear I will."
"I know you will,"
He leaned down to look the man in his fear stricken eyes.
"Tell me what role you played in it."
"I didnt touch her. I just watched I swear! I got cut when she started waving around a broken shard of glass. Then the other two pinned her down."
"The last man, behind me, what role did he play?"
The room was deadly silent, you could hear a needle drop.
"He was the one that took her by force. The man on the second floor was the one that cut her up."
Scar side stepped as a man lunged past him and hit the table. Two other man rushed forward to secure him. He struggled against them as he was forced into a chair,
"You fucking bastard!"The third man in the room began bounding him to the chair as Scar let out a bitter laugh.
"You said you just watched?"
The man shook his head. "Honest sir."
He smirked an ugly smile and looked at the man, " You did confess," he turned and sauntered to the door, "So I guess I will only take one of your eyes."
He wrenched the heavy door open and stepped out into the hall. Most of the men were gathered within ten feet.
"Somone bring me a spoon!"
He slammed the door shut and turned to the second, "I'll let you guess the first part I'm taking from you," he said smirking at the sixth man.
When all was said and done there was one man in the gang that now had one eye. This, Scar had announced, was to be his new street name.
One man had no eyes, and no manhood, this man was kicked out on the streets with a notice to the gang that he was leaving their brotherhood. The man had received more mercy than Scar had originally thought for at the end of his wrists he still had nine fingers. A few of the men whispered in the hall as he left the room with a bloodied spoon in his hand, and a Nursara, just outside the door, was tasked with cauterizing wounds.
The third man was caught off guard in the streets later that day. His guts spilled out into the street. He wouldnt make it through the night.
Scar sat on the edge of his hammock a towel from the bathing room wrapped around his waist. His head was in his hands. He had been to check on Ghost but she was asleep. He stared at the blood that dotted his floor and stood abruptly to get dressed for his date with Nadine.
This had to end. His world had no place for his feelings. What Nadine saw was nothing but a faucade of a man anyway. Tonight he would have to finish the job.
Time to get back to the real world.