It was nice to see that his reputation was still intact, obvious from the way his escorts kept offering him nervous glances. Though Ren's build wasn't in the slightest intimidating, he supposed it was his stare, his wild and murderous stare, that made the toughest of men uncomfortable. It gave him just the slightest bit of satisfaction and though it wasn't enough to show on his face, it had certainly warmed him up a little.
When he came face to face with Rocko, he had to tilt his head upward a little in order for their eyes to meet, though the mention of the cop had Ren turn away at once. Still listening to the other's words, he strolled across the filthy cement floor to where the victim was bound, bending his knees slightly to set his bag of tricks down by his feet. He took his time discarding his coat, giving himself a few good seconds to survey his project before stepping in for a closer look.
Officer O'Riley was bound to a chair so tightly that the restraints had already begun cutting into the man's skin, causing these wounds not only to bleed but to ooze a sickly pus. Surely the good officer was thinking this injury was the worst, even more so than the number Rocko and his men had done to his face. Busted lip, a few teeth missing even. One eyelid was swollen shut, his face a colorful collage of purple, yellow, and red bruises.
Ren sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Beating the living hell out of a man was no way to get him to say anything. Those tacts were best left for insuring a man kept his mouth shut tight. Standing straight again, his one hand searched around in his pockets for a ciggy and a book of matches. Only when the sweet relief of tobacco flooded his lungs did he set to work, opening up the bag he'd brought with him and fishing out a vial of clear liquid. Cigarette tucked between his lips, he tugged out the stopper and held the vial under the cop's nose until the battered man regained a little more consciousness.
"Welcome back," Ren muttered, plucking the cigarette from his lips once he'd tucked the vial back in the bag. It was vital that his victims be awake and aware in order for his techniques to be the slightest effective. "I'm going to give you several chances in the next hour to tell that man what he wants to know," he said, his voice calm and soft, as if reasoning with a child. Crouching by the bag, he pulled out a collection of intruments and lined them up on the floor in front of the cop. "However," he continued, picking up a box cutter. The tictictic sound of the blade extending echoed across the abandoned warehouse but Ren's cold gaze remained locked onto O'Riley. "For each time you refuse, I get to play doctor. Sound good?"
The look on O'Riley's face was far more satisfying than the ones Ren had received from Rocko's goons. Those boys had been intimidated. But the good officer right there in front of him had a look of realization of just what Ren was going to do. He moved like a cat, slinking around the cop so he could stand behind him and whisper in his ear. "Tell him."
O'Riley hesitated...then refused.
Mouth still hovering by the cop's ear, Ren's eyes flicked up to meet Rocko's as a sadistic little smile crept onto his lips. Gaze shooting back down, he inched around to the cop's side and gently held one of the victim's fingers. "Look at this. You've cut your nails too short, Officer... Doc can fix that." Gripping the finger tightly, Ren slid the box cutter blade underneath O'Riley's fingernail, cutting away at a quarter of the skin attaching. Of course the sergeant yelled in pain and thrashed at his bindings but it really was no use. The man was securely bound and Ren's grip was strong as he moved on to the other fingers.
"There, there~" he cooed once he'd finished, stroking the cop's cheek with a smile. "Do you want to tell him now?" Another refusal, though Ren could see the fear in those bloodshot eyes. The sarge was about to crack. "Hmm... Those fingernails look like they might get infected, but don't worry. Doc can fix that too."
Ren stooped to pick up a set of pliers and tested them for a moment just to mess with the cop's head a little more. "P-ple-ase!" the man cried but it fell on deaf ears. Ren gripped the officer's hand tightly and held it still. Nudging the fingernail with the pliers, he got a good grip on it and slowly, mercilessly began to peel it away. Pinhead sized droplets of blood flicked this way and that as the skin tore, leaving the uncovered spot looking like ground beef. If any of that process had made a sound, it wasn't be heard over Danny O'Riley's screaming.
By the fourth finger, the cop had cracked, practically vomiting out the information Rocko needed, sobbing and whimpering like a child. How pathetic, Ren thought as he rolled a bottle from hand to hand, the pills inside rattling. Popping the top open, he shook out one and held it in front of the cop's face. "This'll take the pain away..." he muttered. Only after the pill was swallowed did he add, "Of course, it'll take more than just the pain."
While Sergeant Danny O'Riley met his unfortunate, poisonous end, Ren cleaned his tools with a rag and tucked them back into the bag. The only thing on his mind now was sleep.
The rain pitter pattered silently on the Speakeasy, creating a calm drum to the night. It spoke in tongues, a strange gibberish that meant nothing to Lola. But she enjoyed listening to its sories, anyway. She sat in the far corner, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her skirt while wearing nothing else but her brassiere and a shawl to keep her shoulders from getting cold. Nonchallantly, she smoked a cigarette, watching it swirl around her black bob that was put in disarray. On the table was a small glass of gin filled to the top next to a silver flask. It was closing hours, no one in their right mind would have been awake; but she was. The night was long in planning, and... in necessary discourse. Tomorrow Lola would have to make another trip to the Canadian boarder, and then afterwards make a visit to "Doc." Her meds were getting low.... and by meds, her own personal stash of alcohol. Ah, it was easy to get the things you wanted with just a wave of a leg and a smile these days. Her thoughts wandered towards the Ricardos. They were starting to encroach on the Giomi's part of the town. Gunshots were firing outside, and like a good little girl, Lola waited patiently for them all to come back smiling and half drunk, smothering their selves with false happiness. This was war. This was life. This was.... Prohibition. 
