“I made a mess of my hand,” a slicked hair besuited man said shaking flakes of plaster off it. Blood ran between his knuckles making a chalky mess on the floor. A frantic mummering broke his focus as the duct taped man in the chair thrashed around. “Oh, pipe down, wouldn’t you? It’s not like I’ve taken an axe to your ankles.”

At least not yet, he thought.