He follows his guide down a narrow corridor, walking tall, straight and with purpose. His status is obvious and a standout compared to the fisherman whose appearance matches his surroundings. His neatly styled salt and pepper hair shows the wisdom in his status. There is an authority to him that no one dared to question.

As they near their destination, he fixes the sleeves of his expensive grey suit coat, flashing an equally expensive gold watch. The fisherman clicks the handle and the door screeches open. Light pours into the once underlit room. The newfound brightness reveals a bare, chipping metallic painted space. It was completely stripped of all furniture and storage compartments.

When the light reached the center, it revealed a young male, blindfolded and bound to a single metal chair. His head is bent forward, unconscious. He is clothed in an outfit identical to the fisherman that is two sizes too big. The right pant leg is darker, soaked dark red.

"Has he said anything?" The man with the golden watch asks staring at his prisoner.

"Nothing of use," the fisherman replies and grabs the bucket full of water that he had brought with him. "He mostly puts up a fight, making it difficult to get much from him," he continues as he heads into the room. The man steps in slowly after him.

The fisherman gathers a fistfull of black hair and shoves the bucket into the boy's face. It only takes a moment before the teen begins jerking around, trying to free himself from the fisherman's grasp. When the bucket is finally removed, he gasps deeply. The fisherman then steps aside as the man in the expensive attire moves forward.

He stops inches from the teen and kneels down, careful not to dirty his clothing. He grabs the boy's chin firmly and forces him to turn in the directions he wants him to face. The boy fights, but the man only grips harder. He takes in the boy's appearance, judging him as if he were about to be sold to the highest bidder at an auction.

"You just need to show it who's boss is all," he says almost mockingly to the fisherman who stirs in his stance, both with annoyance and with fear. "Do you have a name?"

The boy presses his lips together tightly, refusing to answer the question. The man can see the glare clearly through the blindfold.

"That's okay," he says as he turns the boy to face him. "A dog's name would hold more importance, but this isn't why I'm here." He finally lets go of the boy's chin and his eyes drop to the blood soaked pant leg.

"You are already aware of what I want," he continues as he moves his hand to rest on the leg, stroking it with his thumb.

When he presses his thumb into the boy's leg, his sudden reaction told the man that he had found the wound. He allows it to sink in for a minute before he leans in closer.

"You give me the information and I promise that I will make the pain go away," he practically whispers to the boy. "In fact, I will even let you go. No strings attached." His tone sounds believable, but in the man's cold, steel grey eyes was a deception the boy could not see.

He releases his pressure and the boy takes in several deep breaths, relaxing the tension he held against the pain. But no sooner did the man retrieve a pen from within his suit and stab it into the wound. The boy lets out a wail as he throws his head back, completely helpless to the man's torture.

He stands back up, wiping the hand he had placed onto the boy's blood with a newly retrieved handkercheif. He is remorseless with his actions, his face completely absent of all emotion. It made it nearly impossible for the fisherman to know the man's intentions with the boy.

"If he hasn't talked by the time I get back, I will deal with him," he says to the fisherman. After he is through cleaning his hand, he lets the handkercheif drop to the ground and turns, heading back out of the room.

"Uh, sir," the fisherman speaks up over the moaning and groaning the boy was now producing. "What do you want me to do about the...pen?"

The man turns slightly. "Leave it. Maybe this time you'll actually get something useful out of him." Without another word, he leaves the two behind, heading back down the corridor.