Kurt was out of luck today. During the clash between the two families, he was caught by his opponents.
'At least I'm not dead.'
The world around him was completely lightless and quiet. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing. For a while, this was his only way to verify that he was still, indeed, alive. Something was holding him in a tight grasp, so he was unable to move.
By now, Kurt had already got back to his senses and realised that he was tied up on a chair, imprisoned by The Lupo Family. Also, at that moment, he heard a hollow clank, followed by footsteps. From what he could hear, there were three of them, and one of them favored his right leg.
The pattern of which each of them walked was distinctive. To Kurt, at least.
Behind the canvas bag covering his face, Kurt's eyes opened, noticing a hint of dim light passing through the thick fabric. The cover was removed violently, and before the light struck his eyes, he was punched with great force. With a grimace, he turned his head towards the punisher again.
"Hey, honey, I want to chat with you for a bit, if you don't mind."
The man towered above him, wearing a black tank top that revealed his astonishing build. Muscles were rolling under his dark skin, causing Kurt to shiver.
Kurt forced himself to look away, then cranked his neck and looked up. His face was surprisingly handsome. Usually, members of a Mafia hold scars as trophies. This one, however, seemed like he was prestine. If not for the surroundings, Kurt could've mistaken him for a model.
Kurt was bewildered, and because of that, he had forgotten to speak. Before he could notice, he was struck with another punch. This time it packed some power...
'That... hurts.'
Kurt looked up once again, then grinned.
"You hit like a little girl when you look like a bull."
The man's face remained still like he never heard him. In the next moment, the world seemed to spin. The big guy landed multiple strikes in a row. The last couple caused blood to fly from Kurt's mouth.
That was not it, however, the man cracked his fingers and stretched his arms, then got back to it. Kurt endured punch after punch. Each one felt like a mountain was crashing into his face. More blood escaped his mouth and nose. Even worse, his face was starting to swell.
'I can handle this for a while, but then I'll die.'
Indeed, even if he was capable of simply enduring the pain for as long as it goes, he still can't keep this up forever. There's internal bleeding, then there's death.
After a few minutes, that felt like eternity, he was finally slowing down. Then he stopped. To Kurt's relief, the bastard seemed to have run out of breath. That moment of peace allowed Kurt to glance at the other two.
The one to his right was only a bit shorter than the guy in the middle. This one was topless, and he also has a great build. His face was relatively ugly, if compared to the other one. A wild scar with stitches ran across his abdomen.
The one on the left was wearing simple white shirt with jeans. He was of average height and a normal body type. Everything about him seemed normal, too. Except... just as he had sensed, the man's right leg was tilted backwards at an abnormal angle. The look of it was dreadful.
In front of him, were associates of The Lupo Family. The Lupo Family is one of rivals of Kurt's own Mafia, The Santi Family. Both of those families were in Las Vegas, and they were the main influence at the current timing, having the highest number of men and tons of money.
'So we have a limper, a model, and an ugly bastard.'
Kurt repeated that thought in his head a few times, then suddenly burst into laughter. Which caused his captors to arch their eyebrows. Not because he was laughing, but because he looked like an absolute maniac doing so while having blood rolling down his chin. Also, the bruises covering his face made it hard for Kurt to open his eyes, which made him look more insane.
---
In a luxurious limousine, two people were having a conversation.
"Don't worry about Kurt, he'll be back by tomorrow."
A man wearing a dark blue jumper said, while looking out of the vehicle's window.
There was a man sitting on the other end of the backseat. However, his demeanor was much more menacing. His face was covered by the shadow of his fedora hat. The gray suit he wore was a masterclass in elegance. His right arm rested on the door, and a cigar lay between two fingers. His voice resounded from within the shadows.
"Send him an escort."
The man nodded, and the driver pulled over immidiately. That was how the conversation between the underboss and a soldier of The Santi Family had ended.
A few hours later, Shawn, a newly introduced associate of the family, walked into a telephone booth. Picking up, he heard the voice of the soldier that was in the car with the underboss.
"You got a mission, get ready to prove yourself..."
The baseball bat swung again, causing Kurt to hiss in agony. He had lost count, but he already took tens of hits. His body was bruised and battered. Everything hurts. The blood on his face went dry, long ago.
Considering that a while day had passed, Kurt was doing relatively fine. There were no broken bones. The strikes he took were all delivered to reflect pain instead of inflict damage. The three men switched shifts, and this was the third cycle. The Limper was currently standing opposite of his chair, holding pliers.
'You've got to be kidding me!'
The closer the pliers reached his nails, the faster his heart raced. Then, piercing pain clawed at his senses. The pain quickly increased as the pliers slowly terminated the nail bed. It was a harrowing experience. After what felt like an eternity of anguish, the skin gave in, and one of his finger nails was gone.
Throughout the whole experience, Kurt managed to bury his emotions within himself. His face remained as still as a statue. Almost like he was completely numb to the pain. This had got an impression out of his captor.
"Seems like I need to cut a little more, huh?"
Kurt's eyes widened, knowing that he would have to go through the same feeling again. But he was wrong, the man didn't grab his nail. Instead, the pliers slightly wrapped aroung his left pinky finger...
'Shit!'
Fortunately, just before the pressure overwhelmed his skin and bone, a distant bang was heard outside, causing both of them to flinch. Moments later, multiple gunshots echoed in the surrounding. The man ditched his tool and quickly dashed outside, his movement awkward. The sudden event had distracted his captors, and the door was left open.
There was one thing holding Kurt back from escaping, however, the tight rope. Though, that was not much of a problem to him.
Kurt inhaled deeply, then, using his head, he started shifting his weight in opposite directions rapidly. At some point, his centre of mass passed the tilting point, and the chair dropped. The chair's hand rest broke, giving his right arm mobility once again.
He supported his weight and rolled over with the chair. Then, with a complex movement, he squeezed his body and held his breath. The free hand grabbed the back of the chair, and he flexed his abdomen to force the left hand rest to bend. Usually, metal is not so easy to bend. But with enough force, he managed to bend the alloy slightly. That was enough for the rope to fruitlessly slide off of it.
The rest was easy. Kurt used his hands to simply undo the rope, and he was finally free to move again.
He stretched his legs and arms, then his back. Feeling the pain radiate through his muscles and bones, he grimaced and spat.
"Oh, I'm getting older."
There was no time to waste, so he grabbed the bloody baseball bat and headed out.