Idea In Progress

Panting, no hyperventilating beneath the burlap sack, blinded and disoriented as he was carried by his arms through a series of doorways. He staggered over just about every threshold before he was shoved backwards into a chair. That which teetered back on it's hind legs from the sharp force, soon yanked forward on all fours. Arms bound, the bag ripped from his head he found himself further blinded. This time a harsh white light from a overhead lamp "Wha-what?!" He wheezed, panicing as the silhouettes moved in on him with facing too shadowed for him to recognize.Taking his shoulder, one shadow smashed the butt of a 40cal across his face. Busting his lip and releasing a pool of blood from his mouth, knocked silent and senseless.
His head fell forward, downcasted in a futile attempt to avoid another merciless strike to his face. He spit the blood, unintentally targeting the boot of one of his captors and was shortly grabbed by the roots of his hair. Head ripped back to face his captors once more. He blinked and pondered who the fucking hell he owed this time? Who did he pissed off? The lamp was moved and the face of his first attacker came to veiw. With a wheezing, bloodied chuckle he licked his bottom lip. "You've got to be kidding me."
Brutus, his last fling's bodyguard. Which meant.... He jerked his head free and strained to focus on the faces around him before he saw him. Arms across his chest, leaning against the far wall with a deathly scowl on his face. Brow raising when his battered captive gave him that same, cocky charming smile. "Hello Beautiful." The man said, savoring the copper taste of his own blood. It was one thing to fuck with a crime lord it was another to fuck his son.