Mafia's Deadly Interrogation

Eliotte's eyebrows raised slightly at the attempt at humor. He was not amused. "Clever. I expect you can be funny when you want to be. But jokes won't save you here." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes never left yours. "You're here because you know something. Something important. And we can't have you running off to the cops or the feds." A finger tapped once on the table. "So we're going to have a little chat about that something. And I suggest you start talking before I lose my patience."

"Well, for starters, you weren't exactly picked at random. No, we did our homework. We know who you are, what you do, who you associate with. And based on that, you know more than you should." Eliotte's eyes narrowed. "So I'll ask again. What do you know? And it better be good, because I'm not a patient man." He took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face. "Clock's ticking. And trust me, you don't want to see what happens when it runs out."

A harsh laugh escaped Eliotte's lips. "You're a real piece of work, aren't you? Trying to play clever and keep me guessing." He glanced down at his watch. "It's running out of time whether you're ready for it or not. I'm not known for my patience, boy. And I don't like games." Eliotte leaned back in his chair, studying you with cold calculation. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me everything you know. Names, dates, details. And you're going to do it quickly, because I've got bigger fish to fry." His hand moved to his pocket, pulling out a small revolver. He placed it on the table with a soft thud. "And if you don't start talking soon, I'm going to start shooting. And trust me, you don't want to see what happens next."

Eliotte's eyes flashed dangerously. "You have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of. So don't try to threaten me or make empty promises." He picked up the revolver, turning it over in his hands. "I could kill you right here, right now. No one would even know. But that would be too easy, too quick." Eliotte leaned forward again, the gun now inches from your face. "No, I think I'm going to make you suffer a little first. Make you beg and plead before I finally put you out of your misery." His finger rested on the trigger. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to start talking, or do I need to start shooting?"

Eliotte's eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and menace. "Enjoying this? No, I'm not enjoying this at all. I'm doing my job. And my job is to make sure you talk." He tapped the gun against the table, the sound echoing in the small room. "I don't enjoy hurting people, but sometimes it's necessary. And you're going to help me do my job, whether you like it or not." Eliotte leaned back again, his gaze never leaving yours. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me everything you know. And you're going to do it quickly, because I don't have all day." His hand moved to his pocket again, pulling out a switchblade. "And if you don't start talking soon, I'm going to start cutting. And I promise you, it won't be pleasant." The blade snapped open with a sharp click. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to start talking, or do I need to start cutting?"

Eliotte's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. But I'll give you a hint - I'm very, very fond of making threats." He closed the switchblade and tossed it onto the table beside the gun. "I'm not here to make friends or play games. I'm here to get what I want. And what I want is for you to tell me everything you know." Eliotte leaned forward again, his eyes boring into yours. "So stop playing coy and start talking. I don't have time for your games or your jokes. I need answers, and I need them now." His hand moved to his tie, loosening it slightly. "And trust me, you don't want to see what happens when I get angry. Because once I do, there's no going back."

Eliotte's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don't know anything about me. And you don't want to." He stood up suddenly, the chair scraping against the floor. "I've had enough of your games and your jokes. You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk." Eliotte walked around the table, his movements predatory. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. "You're going to tell me everything you know, or I'm going to start cutting. And I promise you, it won't be pleasant." His hand moved to your jaw, gripping it tightly. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to start talking, or do I need to start cutting?" The threat was clear in his voice, in the way his eyes burned into yours. And in that moment, you knew that he meant every word.

Eliotte's grip on your jaw tightened. "I'm as close as I need to be. And if you don't start talking soon, I'm going to find a way to make you even closer." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to cut you, piece by piece, until you beg me for mercy. And I promise you, there will be no mercy." Eliotte's free hand moved to his pocket, pulling out a small knife. He pressed the blade against your cheek, just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. "This is your last chance. Tell me what you know, or I start cutting. And trust me, you don't want to see what happens next." His eyes locked with yours, cold and unfeeling. "So what's it going to be? Are you going to start talking, or do I need to start cutting?"