3

                                    

                                          
IDRIS
Idris places a cigar in his mouth and has one of his men light it up for him. He sits there on a wooden chair with eyes closed, simply basking in the smell of the tobacco. It calms his mind - brings him peace far greater than any other drug. And when he releases the smoke, it doubles down on that tranquility. This truly is bliss. 
"Do you know what your son did, Mr. Roth?" 
The middle aged man can't speak. His hands have been tied to the back, and he's even been made to kneel in front of Idris as though he were subhuman. The prison they're in once used to be a wine cellar, which was then stripped of all the alcohol and turned into a torture chamber for men like Mr. Roth's son. It sits under the Verdonni estate, and though he wasn't there for its construction, Idris finds it the perfect play house.
The man in front of Idris now suffers from cigar burns all around his hands. But despite the torture, he weeps for no one else but his son who has been made to hang upside-down from the ceiling.
"Did you know he joined the mafia?" Idris asks.
The man releases a muffled cry. "Please let my son go."
Idris sighs. This is not the first he's heard of such request. He takes in more smoke, allows it simmer, then releases it into the air. "Hey, Theo! Wake up. I know you're not dead."
Theo twitches a few seconds later. The only piece of clothing left on him is his underwear, which Idris thinks is being more than charitable. His body has been marred deeply by the instruments of torture, so ruthlessly gruesome that even his father had failed to recognize him at first. A purple eye, busted lip, charred skin, lacerations of the utmost grisly degree, and the rest of his body painted in thick, gooey blood.
Theo can't even move much from where he's been hung, but he still shifts his one last working eye towards Idris regardless. There are consequences otherwise.
"Tell your father here what you did."
Theo gathers his last remaining strength for this quest. "I aided . . . in numerous murders, and laundered money . . ." 
"Speak up for me, Theo." Idris tells him. "And tell your father why he's here this afternoon."
"I lost . . . the money entrusted to me to keep . . ."
"And what does that make you?"
"An . . . incompetent son of a bitch."
Now Mr. Roth dismantles. This is the part Idris loves most. The sense of betrayal and despondency. "Theo . . ." Mr. Roth begins, tears welling up. "Your mother would be so disappointed in you."
"You're absolutely right, Mr. Roth." Says Idris. "His mother would disown him." He even shakes his head like he's the one who has been disappointed - which, in a way, he has, since there's a bag full of money missing. A bag full of money that belongs to him. 
"Anyway, let's wrap this up." Idris claps his hands twice, which serves as a command for his men to untie Theo. He falls to the concrete floor with a blunt thud, but makes no effort to move despite his freedom. He's too delibated from the torture they put him through. 
"Theo!" Mr. Roth calls.
"Papa . . ." Theo whimpers, trying his best to crawl over to his father. But he doesn't make it very far. His strength fails him.
Mr. Roth turns to Idris with very frightened eyes. "I beg you. Please spare my son. I'll do anything, I beg you!"
But Idris is too busy loading his silver pistol. "Hey, Theo. You alive?"