"You know, this is my favorite part of the job."<br/><br/>Tony grins at Patrick, blood spattered across his face.  He reaches forward and gently caresses the man before him.  The man strains against the plastic strips that bind his wrists behind his back, his swollen eye twitches from the effort.<br/><br/>"I mean it, Pat.  You do beautiful work."<br/><br/>Patrick grunts.<br/><br/>"You're right.  A couple more rounds should do the trick."<br/><br/>Tony grabs the man's shoulders and pulls him upright, holds him firmly to receive Patrick's rhythmic beating.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  The bound man's face sounds like wet oatmeal beneath his skin.  Now the torso: One, two, three.  One, two, three.  A rib or two goes and the man squeaks behind his gag.<br/><br/>"Hold up, Pat, I think our friend here has something he'd like to share with us."  Tony jabs a forefinger into the man's mouth and hooks out the blood-soaked, wadded-up pillowcase.<br/><br/>"Now then.  What's that you were saying?"<br/><br/>The man opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and coughs blood.<br/><br/>"Sorry, I couldn't quite catch that.  Could you speak up?"<br/><br/>"Go. . .to. . .hell. . ."<br/><br/>"Thanks.  That's what I thought you said.  Patrick?"<br/><br/>On cue, Patrick reaches down, grabs the man's wrists with one hand and the man's belt with the other.  The man hangs, suspended and dripping, four feet above the plush hotel carpet.  Holding the man like a human battering ram, Patrick charges at the full-sized double windows.  Realizing too late what's about to happen, the man opens his mouth to scream and gets a mouthful of broken glass.<br/><br/>"On second thought, this is my favorite part of the job."