Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Resistance
Where Is Your Boy Tonight?
2 reviewsPatrick helpless and alone, what can he do to stop what's coming for him? Rated R for strong Violence, rate and review!
1Moving
The Resistance
Chapter Five: Where Is Your Boy Tonight?
“Well Lookie Boy’s Patty here lived.” Patrick could tell that the man who had spoken was the
leader of the three, from the lazy command in his voice, and the way the two other men chuckled
after everything he said. Patrick would have found that last fact funny- if the men hadn’t been
quite so intimidating in their doglike loyalty. Each of the three guys were taller than Patrick, by at least a foot and a half. Clearly all three were vampires, he could see the glittering fangs, a pair descending from each scowling mouth. Fiercely tattooed, and even more viciously muscled the three men stood harder than a brick wall, blocking Patrick’s path to anything. He stood silent, hoping that they had no reasons to bother him. The largest man spoke again, and walked forward, clapping a hand onto Patrick’s shoulders and forcing him to sit on the small wooden chair beside the table; where- moments before Patrick had been gulping down a bowl of blood. “Aren’t you going to greet me and my friends, boy? Or should we force the greeting out of you…” A threat was clear in the man’s voice, and Patrick had a sudden feeling of hopelessness and foreboding as the two other men chuckled, already he could tell that they weren’t planning on being friendly. “Hello, boy’s. um…. W-what’re you doing here?” Patrick said quietly, deciding to play along with them, knowing they could hurt him, and hoping he could get some answers from them. “Ah! there you are Patty. You hear that boy’s? He spoke!” His followers laughed again as the man’s hand moved backwards, then slapped Patrick across the face. “You don’t speak. Unless we happen to ask you to, and you DO NOT ask questions. Understand?” Patrick nodded, his cheek stinging and his feeling of helplessness growing, he was alone with these men, they could do whatever they wanted to him, and nobody would ever know, he’d have to be careful. “Listen, Patty, don’t let that little slap there ruin our meeting, OK? I don’t want to do anything I would regret here. And I won’t. Unless you give me cause.” He smirked, and his ever dependable sidekicks laughed again. “My Name is Malachay, and my buddies here are Lestat, and Damien, say hello boys.”
Lestat, the smaller man on the right, had a large, disfiguring scar rolling from his forehead to the collar of his shirt, where it disappeared beneath the cloth. He nodded to Patrick, motioned towards the scar and whispered, “That’s from your friend, the one with the knife?” Patrick’s eyes widened at the mention of his friend. “Andy did that to you!? Do you know where he is, has anybody seen him?” Too late, Patrick saw the hand swinging towards his face, and another slap made him grunt with pain, Malachay was fucking strong. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO ASK QUESTIONS!” He continued to hit Patrick, punching him in the chest the stomach, anywhere he could while Lestat and Damien laughed behind him. Finally, Damien looked up, his eyes widening when he saw the pain Patrick was in and the damage his master had done. He stuttered, “Uh Malachay, Malachay! Calm down, the boy is sorry, besides you must save your strength; we haven’t even started yet, after all.” Patrick felt the hard blows slowing down and heard Malachay’s heavy pants, he grunted in pain and felt a droplet of blood run down from his
forehead. Who were these three men? Why were they doing this to him? Who did they work for…? Patrick had so many questions, how would he ever get the answers when he could not speak without being beaten half to death?
“You're right Damien, I must save my strength, and after all, we have the rest of the night to spend with Pat here.” Patrick’s thought’s were interrupted by Malachay’s speech. The rest of the night? Then... had someone given the three men a time limit? That meant they were working under somebody... William maybe? He had after all attacked Chicago just the night
before, but what would William want with him?
“Well let’s start then, I’ll enjoy this.” Once again Malachay’s harsh words broke through Patrick’s thoughts. “Damien, get the rope and…some of our friends.” The way Malachay said
“friends” did not make Patrick feel good, nor the way that Damien and Lestat chuckled at his demands, what would they bring out? Damien came back quickly, holding one long piece of rope and a black burlap sack. Without struggling (for fear of angering Malachay) Patrick let Damien tie his hands and feet to the chair. So tightly that Patrick gasped in pain again, and Malachay laughed, “That is not the worst pain you’ll be feeling tonight Patrick, my friends and I, well We’re going to be asking you a few questions.
And you will answer, Each. One. Or it will not be so pleasant for you. Understand? Patrick nodded again and watched as Malachay pulled a long knife from the black bag. It was Andy’s knife. He watched as Malachay slowly, gently, and carefully placed Andy’s knife against his chest and asked calmly,
“The first question Patrick… Where is your boy tonight?”
Chapter Five: Where Is Your Boy Tonight?
“Well Lookie Boy’s Patty here lived.” Patrick could tell that the man who had spoken was the
leader of the three, from the lazy command in his voice, and the way the two other men chuckled
after everything he said. Patrick would have found that last fact funny- if the men hadn’t been
quite so intimidating in their doglike loyalty. Each of the three guys were taller than Patrick, by at least a foot and a half. Clearly all three were vampires, he could see the glittering fangs, a pair descending from each scowling mouth. Fiercely tattooed, and even more viciously muscled the three men stood harder than a brick wall, blocking Patrick’s path to anything. He stood silent, hoping that they had no reasons to bother him. The largest man spoke again, and walked forward, clapping a hand onto Patrick’s shoulders and forcing him to sit on the small wooden chair beside the table; where- moments before Patrick had been gulping down a bowl of blood. “Aren’t you going to greet me and my friends, boy? Or should we force the greeting out of you…” A threat was clear in the man’s voice, and Patrick had a sudden feeling of hopelessness and foreboding as the two other men chuckled, already he could tell that they weren’t planning on being friendly. “Hello, boy’s. um…. W-what’re you doing here?” Patrick said quietly, deciding to play along with them, knowing they could hurt him, and hoping he could get some answers from them. “Ah! there you are Patty. You hear that boy’s? He spoke!” His followers laughed again as the man’s hand moved backwards, then slapped Patrick across the face. “You don’t speak. Unless we happen to ask you to, and you DO NOT ask questions. Understand?” Patrick nodded, his cheek stinging and his feeling of helplessness growing, he was alone with these men, they could do whatever they wanted to him, and nobody would ever know, he’d have to be careful. “Listen, Patty, don’t let that little slap there ruin our meeting, OK? I don’t want to do anything I would regret here. And I won’t. Unless you give me cause.” He smirked, and his ever dependable sidekicks laughed again. “My Name is Malachay, and my buddies here are Lestat, and Damien, say hello boys.”
Lestat, the smaller man on the right, had a large, disfiguring scar rolling from his forehead to the collar of his shirt, where it disappeared beneath the cloth. He nodded to Patrick, motioned towards the scar and whispered, “That’s from your friend, the one with the knife?” Patrick’s eyes widened at the mention of his friend. “Andy did that to you!? Do you know where he is, has anybody seen him?” Too late, Patrick saw the hand swinging towards his face, and another slap made him grunt with pain, Malachay was fucking strong. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO ASK QUESTIONS!” He continued to hit Patrick, punching him in the chest the stomach, anywhere he could while Lestat and Damien laughed behind him. Finally, Damien looked up, his eyes widening when he saw the pain Patrick was in and the damage his master had done. He stuttered, “Uh Malachay, Malachay! Calm down, the boy is sorry, besides you must save your strength; we haven’t even started yet, after all.” Patrick felt the hard blows slowing down and heard Malachay’s heavy pants, he grunted in pain and felt a droplet of blood run down from his
forehead. Who were these three men? Why were they doing this to him? Who did they work for…? Patrick had so many questions, how would he ever get the answers when he could not speak without being beaten half to death?
“You're right Damien, I must save my strength, and after all, we have the rest of the night to spend with Pat here.” Patrick’s thought’s were interrupted by Malachay’s speech. The rest of the night? Then... had someone given the three men a time limit? That meant they were working under somebody... William maybe? He had after all attacked Chicago just the night
before, but what would William want with him?
“Well let’s start then, I’ll enjoy this.” Once again Malachay’s harsh words broke through Patrick’s thoughts. “Damien, get the rope and…some of our friends.” The way Malachay said
“friends” did not make Patrick feel good, nor the way that Damien and Lestat chuckled at his demands, what would they bring out? Damien came back quickly, holding one long piece of rope and a black burlap sack. Without struggling (for fear of angering Malachay) Patrick let Damien tie his hands and feet to the chair. So tightly that Patrick gasped in pain again, and Malachay laughed, “That is not the worst pain you’ll be feeling tonight Patrick, my friends and I, well We’re going to be asking you a few questions.
And you will answer, Each. One. Or it will not be so pleasant for you. Understand? Patrick nodded again and watched as Malachay pulled a long knife from the black bag. It was Andy’s knife. He watched as Malachay slowly, gently, and carefully placed Andy’s knife against his chest and asked calmly,
“The first question Patrick… Where is your boy tonight?”
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