#fun fact i asked tommy to let me choke him with a tie for research

[knivestothroats]

ITWS/ProVic Crossover Event Of The Century (part 2)

This is a crossover of In The Woods Somewhere by me and Professional//Victim by @victimeyez. Read part 1 here. Content warnings: Captivity, torture (beating, scratching, electricity, needles, knives, burning, strangling, stress positions, very mild eye stuff like not even gore)

"To demonstrate his uses tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, we will invite a very special guest on stage. Please give a round of applause for Fletcher!" Caius led the applause, bearing the grin of the cat who ate the canary.

Fletcher raised their eyebrows. Those who knew them by name turned to them expectantly. 

Fletcher didn't like Caius' expression. It was too smug. He clearly thought he was winning some one-sided battle. Fletcher didn't want to play into his hand. But at the same time, refusing to take the stage, while maybe disappointing Caius, wouldn't paint Fletcher as the stronger of wills, only as too timid to perform for a crowd. Fletcher wasn't shy, and they wouldn't be seen as such. They threw back the rest of their drink and set it on the nearest table. Time to show everyone how it's done.

Fletcher walked confidently up the steps, passing Rory and Michelle with a nod. They stopped in front of Caius and folded their arms, waiting.

“You and Tommy seemed to be making a connection, I thought you should do the honors," Caius told them with a smirk. He waved a hand towards the table where the Cradle sat, surrounded by a variety of other painful-looking tools and implements. "Dealer's choice. Enjoy."

So he was that type of crazy. Fletcher took off their jacket, eliciting a few wolf whistles from the crowd, and thrust it into Caius's chest for him to take. They began to roll up their sleeves as they studied their options laid out on the table. "What are the limits?"

“Avoid arteries, for today. Or tendons. We have to bring him home alive, and in roughly one piece. Nothing severe on the vitals. Oh, and leave the hair, I'm growing it out. We just have to go a little easier than usual today. Arrangements can always be made for more later. But have fun. Take what moves you."

He spoke about the prone man with a wink and a little tongue-in-cheek. He was very comfortable in this space.

(Fuck.) Tommy watched as Fletcher made their way towards the stage. He had hoped for a reprieve after the Cradle, but it looked like he was about to be fed right to the wolves. This particular wolf had touched his face, had spoken to him, had almost felt like a real human interaction, but it had been a long time since he had found a connection that wasn't inspired by brutality. When he looked at Fletcher, he saw someone who tortured for their pleasure more than any dollar amount their clients could pay. This was someone who would take their time, who wanted lots of begging and crying and pleading for them to ignore. Maybe he could tough it out for the first minutes, see if he could earn some leniency with the groveling then. If he started right away, he wasn't sure they would be satisfied. His face flushed with shame as he watched them picking an instrument with care. He looked out at the crowd and saw the eager patrons hungry for a show. To be eaten alive by the wolf to the sound of a cheering audience, and all he could do was beg. He let one dry sob from deep in his chest, and waited for the worst.

Scalpel, box cutter, pliers, claw hammer, extendable baton. Fletcher picked up a cattle prod and tested it, facing the crowd. They saw Tommy flinch out of the corner of their eye at the crackle. Fletcher turned toward him, prod down at their side. Tommy looked up at them, head still sagging. There was no accusation in his features. He was merely resigned, like he knew this was coming. 

"Well-" his name got caught on their tongue. They pushed past it. "Tell us what we want to know." 

Fletcher jammed the prod against Tommy's ribs and lit it up. Tommy's body seized and he let loose a strangled scream.

"Does that hurt more or less than the cradle?" they asked when they granted him reprieve. 

Tommy took deep, rattling breaths. "Less. The cradle - hurts more."

Fletcher put their hands out to the crowd, as if to say, "How 'bout that, folks?" The audience cheered. They raised an eyebrow at Caius and tossed the cattle prod to the table. 

Fletcher loosened their tie, pulling it completely off. They wrapped the ends around their hands, and wrapped the middle around Tommy’s throat, standing behind him so the audience would get a good view of his face.

“No, no, no, wait, wait…” Tommy began to babble in a small, pitiful voice.

Caius stepped forward and leaned in to mutter to Fletcher, “Short intervals.”

“I’m a professional,” Fletcher whispered back.

Fletcher drew their hands apart, cinching the tie around Tommy’s throat. He let out a series of shallow gasps and creaking sounds as his throat struggled to move air through.

Fletcher slacked the tie, giving Tommy room to draw in haggard breaths. They waited a few seconds, then tightened it again.

“Wai-” Tommy’s plea was cut off with a croak. Fletcher extended the strangulation by a few seconds before letting up again. Tommy coughed hard, body rattling, trying to bend forward. Fletcher repeated the process a few times, choking Tommy until his temples pounded like drums and then loosening up enough to let him catch his breath before cinching the tie closed again.

Fletcher began slowly this time, giving Tommy a chance to beg before being cut off.

And beg he did. “Waitwaitplease, I can’t! I can’t go again, just please give me…”

Tommy ran out of time before the tie dug too deep into his throat to get the words out. Fletcher held this one the longest. Tommy began to twitch in his restraints, his legs kicking at the floor below him. 

Was this it? Could he make it through this? Caius would step in if Fletcher was going to kill him, right?

Tommy tried to look to Caius, but black splotches were beginning to cloud his vision.

Just like that, Fletcher let go. 

They unfurled the tie from their hands and unwound it from around his throat. Tommy coughed and hacked until his ribs hurt and spit dangled from his lips. 

Fletcher put both hands on the side of Tommy’s head and lifted it up, tilting it this way and that to examine his face. It was flushed red, verging on purple. His cheeks were dotted with burst blood vessels. The side of one of his eyes was a brilliant shade of bright, bloody red. 

Fletcher let Tommy's head drop. They draped their tie over their shoulders and returned to the table to go over their options. 

Fletcher picked up the box cutter. They extended the blade and turned it over to examine before setting it back down. Reaching into their pocket, they drew their own knife and flipped it open. Fletcher took hold of Tommy's chin and lifted his face to them. They made a cut below his hairline, across the temple. Tommy gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, but didn't make much of a reaction beyond a hiss of pain. 

"I like to start with the face," Fletcher narrated to the audience. "The head bleeds a lot, even if the cut is shallow. Freaks them out, especially when it gets in their eyes. Plus, if you're starting with the face, what are you going to escalate to?" 

As promised, blood was streaming from the cut, running down Tommy's face and dripping off his chin onto his bare chest. He had to keep his eye closed. 

"Forehead bleeds the best, with the veins up there. But as close to the eye as possible is good too." 

They wrenched Tommy's face up further. He struggled to get his legs steady beneath him. Fletcher lined up the tip of the blade with the inside corner of the unbloodied eye. It went wide with fear, eyelids twitching apprehensively as Tommy trembled in their grasp.

"What do you think, Caius?" Fletcher mused, keeping their eyes locked on Tommy. "Your boy said you had one of his limbs reattached. Does that mean I can take out his eye?"

Caius's smile wavered. "Not for free."

Fletcher chuckled softly. They turned the knife abruptly and cut a line down Tommy's cheek instead. Tommy gasped and flinched, but breathed with a certain degree of relief. Fletcher pushed their fingers into his cheeks, causing his lips to purse. Tommy whimpered as Fletcher's hand dug into the fresh cut. 

"You probably want to keep his tongue, too. Let the audience hear him beg. And..." Fletcher flipped the knife in the air, catching it by the handle again. "Was there a rule against stabbing?"

“No vitals - we don’t want to have to end the party so soon.” Caius’s calm composure was a front.

"How deep is too deep? You tell me when." 

Fletcher pressed the tip of the knife under Tommy's clavicle and began to push in. The skin held at first, sinking under the point of the blade until the surface tension finally gave. The first bead of blood pooled as the knife went in ever so slowly. Fletcher kept their hand steady and their eyes fixedly on Caius, waiting for him to break.

Tommy tried to squirm away from the blade, but couldn’t manage much distance before stumbling in the pull of the restraints and pushing it deeper. He whimpered as it bit into him with agonizing patience. "Fuck - it's deep, it's deep enough! Please, please, you don't have to do this!"

Fletcher pulled their attention back to him. 

"Buddy," they said with a smile. "It's barely an inch in."

Tommy groaned as the blade slowly slid deeper, his muscles clenched tight around it from the strain on his arms. Fletcher gently rotated the knife, pushing underneath the bone, and Tommy struggled to stay up on his shaking legs. He was taking forceful deep breaths through his teeth, trying his hardest to stay calm.

Fletcher sank the knife in another inch before Caius cleared his throat and said, “No arteries.”

Fletcher rolled their eyes and blew out a breath. 

“Can’t do anything fun,” they said, pulling the blade back out much quicker than it had gone in. 

Tommy cried out in pain. It was clear he was only upright because of the restraints. Fletcher paced around him. Can’t do the nails through the hand trick in this position, but…

Fletcher reached up to where Tommy’s wrists were suspended and cut along the sides of his wrists, just above the cuffs. Tommy shifted his weight, trying to take pressure off the new wounds, but his arms were stretched as far as they could go, and he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up any higher.

“Cattle prod would work for this,” Fletcher said, examining the tools on the table again. They turned back and pulled a zippo lighter out of their pocket. “But let’s switch it up.”

The only preamble was the grind of the wheel before the flame licked his skin. The heat was sudden and sharp and overwhelming, burning the underside of Tommy’s exposed arm. 

He shrieked and jerked to the side, trying to get as far away from the flame as possible. The cuffs held steady as he pulled against them, only servicing to open the cuts along his wrists wider. 

Blood started trickling down his arms towards his shoulders, ruby rivulets of warm ichor quickly cooling against his pale skin. The burn was agonizing enough to instantly reduce him to tears. The rest of his body started to turn cold and he began to shiver, icy sweat beading on his forehead. Tommy’s head started to swim. (Don’t throw up in front of the crowd, Caius will kill you. Keep it together, don’t pass out.) He ground his teeth together, struggling to stabilize himself. Fletcher let the flame lick up his bicep, finally pausing to let the burn bloom. 

“You don’t - I don’t have anything to give you,” Tommy slurred out. “How much do you have to do to prove yourself?”

Fletcher turned the lighter over in their hands, thinking. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just putting on a show.” They flicked the lighter on again and drew it dangerously close to Tommy’s eye, letting the flame vanish just before he would start to cook. “You’re the magician's assistant today. You know how to play your part, don’t you?”

Tommy whined as the flame disappeared with a flash. He dropped his head, huffing while he opened and closed his fists to regain feeling. They were uncomfortably numb and swollen, while his wrists pulsed in pain. More blood was oozing its way down his sides now, finally beginning to tacky in the air. Under his arm, a raw stretch of skin had bubbled and started to char in the flame. The burn still felt incredibly hot, radiating a fierce heat as if the lighter was still making his flesh a kindling. 

Caius didn’t usually allow burns, unless he was administering them himself. Usually for cauterization. Usually. Tommy tried to sneak a glance over to Caius without Fletcher noticing - he sensed they very much wanted his attention to themselves for the moment. Caius was leaning back against the table, his face a familiar mask of indifferent amusement. He had perfected it for clients, but Tommy could feel some anxiety radiating off of him. There was an audience, after all. Tommy swallowed hard, his throat dry from gasping for air. 

“I know,” he managed to rasp.

Tommy’s attempt at subtlety failed under Fletcher’s sharp watch. Their eyes tracked his gaze to Caius, who had a carefully casual look that his eyes betrayed. A touch too tense around the edges, at the corners of the mouth. 

“Good,” Fletcher told Tommy, as they refocused on one another. “Because for my next trick,” they held up their pocket knife, flicking the blade open with a satisfying click. “-I’m going to make this knife disappear.”

Fletcher arced their arm down and drove the blade into Tommy’s thigh. 

It took a moment to register. The pain was like a ringing in the back of his ears, it took a moment to even realize where the signal was coming from. Just, pain, ow, bad. Just like Michelle's little speech, his body lit up in alarm. (DANGER. WE ARE IN DANGER.)

His leg jerked back in surprise, pulling the knife out just enough for it to start pouring blood. his whole body went stiff, all the fight turning into freeze. His other leg spasmed, straightening like a board to hold as much weight as he could onto one foot. He groaned, and his legs started to tremble. (Shutting down.)

Fletcher sidled up and closed the distance Tommy had formed by pulling away. They wrapped their free arm around his waist to hold him steady, and pushed the knife back in with force.

The rough cry it forced out winded him. It had been a long time since he'd had the touch of a client that really knew what they were doing. The pain started incredibly deep in his thigh, feeling the thick muscle there give way. He had no way of defending himself, his head hanging over in the only way he could curl up. His arms were pinned uselessly above him.

Fletcher pulled their hand away from Tommy's waist and snaked it up his back. They gripped a handful of his hair and pulled his head up. "Smile for the audience," they said in his ear. Then they twisted the knife.

Tommy arched his back in pain, and his weight dropped fully to his wrists. It felt like he was being split up the thigh. His wounded leg kicked out in reflex, once, before dropping like dead meat attached to his hip.

Caius was there in a flash, touching Tommy's shoulder. "That concludes your free trial."

Fletcher gave a single, easy nod and retracted the blade with a much more gentle hand. Not that pulling out a knife was ever painless. They wiped the blade off on Tommy's skin before closing and returning it to their pocket.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself. Will you be a client in the future?"

"Generally I get paid to torture people, not the other way around," Fletcher said. They eyed Tommy's limp form as he twitched in pain. "But then again, I make enough money to indulge in vices and now then. Who knows? Are you still going to be watching over my shoulder if I pay?"

“Yes,” Caius said firmly. “Have to protect the investment.”

Fletcher made a noncommittal noise. They didn't offer much else, just took their jacket back and walked off stage. The crowd began to disperse back to intermingling groups, people chatting and laughing and sipping cocktails. 

Fletcher paused to watch Caius address Tommy's leg. He had produced a med kit and packed the wound with a white powder before wrapping it in gauze. Tommy's only reaction was a slight grimace. His eyes mostly remained closed. 

The other wounds were deemed less crucial. Caius cut Tommy loose from the restraints and tossed him over his shoulder to cart off. 

Fletcher sorted through their feelings. 

Caius was petty and insecure, jealous in some way that Fletcher had interacted with Tommy despite willingly leaving them alone together. He had hoped to gain something from calling Fletcher on stage, whether it was to embarrass them or pit them against Tommy in order to destroy whatever relationship he was afraid of them developing. Fletcher wasn't sure what he wanted to happen, but they didn't like being played. Maybe they had gone overboard trying to get Caius to say uncle, embarrass himself in front of the crowd by having to walk back on the business model of you can do whatever you want to him, but honestly, Fletcher had done worse to others. Far worse. But it didn't matter if the others stayed in one piece, usually. 

Tommy was innocent, probably. Or if he had done something to cross Caius and the others, he had to have paid for it a dozen times over by now. But it wasn't beneficial to Fletcher to care about deserved. Deserved was a matter of opinion. All they needed was a matter of payment.

But Tommy was... fun? Intriguing. He had developed an impressive skill for reading people, surely so he could give the clients exactly what they wanted as quickly as possible. "Make dreams come true," as Caius had put it. 

He was also so well trained, while still not being a mindless marionette. He screamed, he begged, he bargained, he complied, he said he was perfect for this. 

Fletcher wanted to pick him apart, or at least have a long conversation with him. They also wanted to make him whimper and tremble again. And bleed. They really enjoyed making him bleed. 

But they didn't want Caius hovering the whole time. And they didn't want to invite any of them to their home. 

They glanced at their watch. There was time for another drink. And who knows - maybe their performance would help them make some contacts before the night was out.

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