1 . Name: TeratoMarty @ 2012-05-02 22:54

Right, so, I finished my thesis, and am trying to re-learn that writing is fun. To this end, a small amount of torture.
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“Spy! For the love of God, no!” The Sniper screamed as the espionage expert’s cigarette hovered an inch above his eye.

“Does this mean you surrender?” The Spy’s grin was predatory, slavering, but the hand holding the cigarette was perfectly steady.

The Sniper ground his teeth, glaring at the French man past the glowing coal. He was spread-eagle on a bare mattress, tied to the steel bedframe. His rangy body bore evidence of some time under the saboteur’s tender mercy- bruises, a trickle of blood from a split lip, a hundred knife wounds seeping red down his skin. some of the cuts were careful, intricate patterns, demonstrating that the Spy had put thought into his work; others were jagged, imprecise, showing where he had lost patience with the Sniper’s resistance.

“Come, bushman, I don’t have all day.” The Spy wrapped his fingers around the Sniper’s throat, knuckles stretching the thin leather of his gloves to a sheen. The cigarette drooped a fraction, giving off a tiny fume of burning hair as it touched an eyelash.

“Please- please no- anything you want!” Eyes watering, the Australian twitched as he suppressed the instinctive, futile urge to thrash away.

“What is happen here?” boomed from the hallway even as a giant fist punched straight through the door, tearing the lock from the frame. The Spy snatched his cigarette away from the Sniper’s eye as the Heavy Weapons Guy strode into the room.

The Heavy took in the scene in a flash- his own team’s Sniper, their Spy- and thundered out “Traitor!” in Russian as he picked the smaller man up by his throat.

“Heavy- put ‘im down!” Although the Sniper’s voice was hoarse, his tone of command was firm. The big man looked at his fellow mercenary in bafflement.

“We’re, ah, it’s not what you think. We’re just having a bit of fun.”

With the Spy still gurgling in his grasp, the Heavy had another look around the room. In addition to the blood, ropes and knives that he’d noted before, he now took in the wine, the handy position of condoms and lubricant, the selection of wobbly rubber and leather implements for intimate use.

His face folding up like a man who’d tasted a lemon, the Heavy let the Spy fall to the ground. Averting his eyes, the big Russian backed out and shut the ruins of the door as firmly as he could.

“Do what you want, but do more quiet another time.”