Ken wasn't the same after Schuldich raped him. Shoved into the room by the German, he visibly flinched away from the touch, silent and jumpy. Farfarello caught him and shoved him into a chair, nails digging into Ken's bare arms painfully. Nagi didn't touch him, leaning as he was against the wall with and uncaring expression on his face. Brad merely stared at him, his eyes trailing over the tense, bruised and shaking body and bowed head. Schuldich smirked and slung an arm over Ken's shoulder. The younger man stiffened and tried to pull away but couldn't.
"We want information," Schuldich said casually. "Since you didn't give me any last night, I'm handing you over to Brad."
The American glared at Schuldich. "He was your toy, Schuldich," the American snapped icily. "I don't take seconds."
Schuldich smiled, red hair falling into mocking green eyes. /Jealous, Brad?/ he teased.
The American met his gaze squarely. /No, Schuldich. Angry./
It was the first time he had ever gotten a straight answer out of hte American and for a brief moment, surprise flickered over his eyes. He straightened up, moving away from Ken. "Seconds or not, he's got the information we need."
"Are you certain?"
"When am I ever wrong?"
Brad sighed. "It'll be easier if you talk, Weiss. Who gives you your orders?"
Ken hunched over, refusing to speak. Brad nodded at Farfarello and the Irishman raised his hand, slamming his fist between Ken's shoulders, knocking him off the chair. He hit the floor with a loud smack. After a moment he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position.
"Who gives you your orders?"
Again Ken remained silent and again Farfarello lashed out. Ken fell to the floor again, gasping for breath. Brad rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Being brave isn't going to help you."
"Being *brave* has nothing to do with it," Ken got out.
"He talks," Farfarello growled as he kicked him in the stomach viciously. "But it's not what we want to hear."
Ken curled around the pain and tried to even out his breathing. He flinched at Brad's next words.
"Then make him say what we want to hear."
Farfarello grinned as he unsheathed a knife and licked it, an unhealthy gleam entering his single golden eye. Schuldich took the chair Ken had been sitting on and turned it around, lounging on it. "Make sure he's still breathing when you're done."
Farfarello grunted a response before he grabbed Ken by his hair and jerked him to his feet. Without a pause he slammed his fist into Ken's face and as he fell, he moved his other arm, his knife cutting deeply across Ken's upper left arm. Ken let out a soft cry as a thin ribbon of red splattered away from him as he fell. It was the first of many blows he took and by the end of the beating, he was barely conscious and his breathing came out in raspy, uneven intervals.
Brad snorted in disgust. "We got nothing. Take him to your room, Farfarello. Nagi, go with him and keep him in line."
Farfarello snagged Ken by the hair and dragged him out of the room with Nagi trailing behind him, silent as ever, leaving Schuldich alone with Brad. The American sat down in the chair behind the desk and pulled out a sheaf of paper. Schuldich brushed some of his hair out of his eyes and looked over at Brad.
"Angry, hm?" he asked.
"I'm all booked up," Brad retorted acidly. "Go away, Schuldich."
THe German was never good at following orders and so, of course, he got to his feet but did not leave, instead he headed over to Brad. Slinging himself over Brad's legs he leaned forward. "You think too much," he murmured. "There for, you take everything too seriously."
He leaned in to kiss Brad but stilled when he felt hard fingers wrap around his neck and squeeze. Brad's blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "I don't like playing games, Schuldich."
/Who said this was a game?/ came the German's cryptic reply in his mind.
"You think everything is a game."
A slender brow arched up. /And you would know this how?/
Brad frowned slightly. "How do you think? I was the one who found you."
/Does that mean I'm supposed to be indebted to you? Because I bow to no one./
"I know that. I'm not asking you to."
/Good. Because you wouldn't have me if you did./
"And can I have you?" came the quiet question, blue eyes locked with green.
Schuldich smiled slightly, bitterly. /You're the boss. You can have anything you want./
He didn't expect to be shoved onto Brad's desk, one hand still wrapped around his throat, the other cracking across his cheek painfully. Brad glared down at him, an indecypherable emotion in his gaze.
"I don't want you unwilling, Schuldich," Brad hissed. "If I had wanted that, I would have gotten a two-bit whore to bed. I'm just sick of these games you play."
/I *was* a two-bit whore, remember?/
Brad let him go with a sound of disgust and headed for the door, anger in his step. "Your toy can stay for one more day. Any longer than that and our plans will be ruined. I'm still running on a schedule."
The door clicked shut and Schuldich slowly sat up, one hand going to his throat, the other to his cheek. He was still and quiet, his eyes distant. Then ghost like hands touched his, chilling him.
/You pushed him too far,/ Liebe said quietly.
Schuldich slowly smiled. "No. I pushed him to getting a spine."