A body in the Cooler [open]

He was halfway through his sandwich, looking intently at the cooler room, the metal door still locked with no sound coming out of it. As he bit into his sandwich he heard footsteps in the hallway next to the kitchen. He turned his head slowly, not worried one bit that someone would attempt to throw him out of the kitchen. A man appeared with a mask on his face. A gas mask. How peculiar. Bishop had heard of that man from other members of the family. He had heard that he had been somewhat of a small trouble recently to his boss, but he didn't receive any orders to make his life a living hell. He eyed the man carefully from head to toe. He was wearing weapons of course, and the matter of his visit was unknown. Maybe he came to pick up a contract, who knows. It wasn't Bishop's business anyway.<p>
Curiosity was a rather interesting flaw that could turn into a quality in some situations. Future will tell if that masked man's curiosity served him well or not. He seemed pretty keen on expressing his disgust of Bishop's manners. The man looked at the masked mercenary with a studying look before biting more into his sandwich. He could come back with a snarky response to Jacob's question, but he didn't want to do that right away. He wanted to know who he was going up against first. After chewing on his bite he looked out the window a second before looking back at Jacob. "And what if I did?" he showed his clean hands while the rest of his arms were stained in blood. He had no idea since when that man had been working for the Bianchi or how much influence he would have on him. It didn't matter. Bishop may be new in the Bianchi family but he only took orders from the highest members, unless they ordered him to take orders from someone else for a certain amount of time.<p>
He seemed so out of place in that big fancy kitchen, his clothes covered in blood, himself dressed more like a military than a person who actually lives there. He would be even more out of place if he were wearing a pair of Hawaiian shorts with flipflops on his feet. But since he was interrogating someone who might be required to get out of here alive, it might be best to not let them tell their boss his captor was wearing a strange outfit. The masked man seemed rather out of place as well, with his mask. Everyone else here seemed to pay attention to what they were wearing even when they were just trailing along the house in yoga pants. Those Bianchi with their manners, always fascinating however. It was more entertaining than living in a dumpster with ten other people who all stink and sleep in their own garbage.

The word 'buddy' took Bishop rather by surprise and he lifted a brow at Jacob, as if asking him if he was seriously calling him that. The stranger never crossed Damian's path before, much less did he have a conversation with him. So the familiarity of the word buddy put him straight into the box of those whom Bishop finds irritating. But since they had just met, Bishop was ready to let that slide and keep the information in the back of his head. He made no mention of the casualty of the man's words and bit back into his meal. Did he believe he was a cannibal? Maybe, Bishop did not mind if he did, and couldn't care even less if the mercenary thought he was playing with him.

However he saw, from the corner of his eye, that the masked man's curiosity grew as he did not leave the kitchen like any sane person would. Bishop believed the man was used to the sight of blood and strange things happening in the Mansion since he did not fret away from him and the possibility that there might be a body hidden somewhere. He finished the sandwich and got up, remaining quiet until he reached the sink and left the plate at its bottom. He then turned around and leaned against the sink, crossing his bloody arms and watching Jacob with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. So many questions in one sentence, he looked like an exited little animal while his masters dangled a treat beneath his nose. Bishop hesitated, thinking without words and debating if he should tell that rodent man about what was in the cooler, or if he should simply shrug and wait for the man to get bored and walk away. He could also scare him no doubt, he was at least two heads taller than him if not more, and the masked man's frame was no match for his despite his decent built for a man of his size.

He pushed himself from the counter and with a finger, made Jacob understand to come to him. He then moved to the metal door's frame and unlocked it, moving the brick in the opening. Cold air escaped the improvised cell as the door opened halfway through. Bishop walked in without bothering to turn the heat up and looked at the man in the chair, who was shivering and shattering his teeth behind blue lips. Bishop observed him for a little bit before looking at Jacob and showing the tortured man with a hand. "You tell me if he's dead or not." the man wasn't dead, but he was in a rather bad situation. Bishop looked at him and crouched in front of his knees. "Still not going to talk are you?" the captive fret not, looking at his captor with sharp eyes and an anger that did not froze yet. Bishop left him some time, some time to repent and perhaps make a sage decision. Nothing came and he lost patience. Damian walked out of the cooler, acting as if Jacob wasn't even there anymore. He went to fetch a hose from under the sink and hooked it up to the spigot. The man came back into the cooler after opening the faucet with hot water, burning hot water.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" he asked the man in the chair. "Where are they taking the cargo next?" a simple question that would make the Bianchi family's life easier as soon as he got the answer. But the man was stubborn and loyal to his boss, not to his life apparently and decided to remain silent yet again. He didn't even have the guts to talk back at him, thought Bishop as he opened the hose, aiming for the man's feet first before rising slowly up. Well, not too slowly. Ever put your feet in ice cold water and left them there until you got used to the cold? And have you ever, after doing that, decided to sink them in hot water to get warm? If you did then you know by now that it burns like nothing else, and right now the man sitting on the chair was experiencing quite the pain. Even more so when the hot water reached his crotch. During the entire time the man yelled and cried, Bishop's expression remained straight. No enjoyment, no hatred, simple neutrality that perhaps was what made people hire him. Finally the crying man complied and gave Bishop the coordinates for the next cargo shipment. At that revelation, Bishop cut the hose without any hesitation and dropped it on the floor before taking one step to the man and sending him to sleep with one dry punch to the temple. The man rested his head on his shoulder, out cold, literally. "See, not that hard was it?" he asked the passed out body while wiping his wet hands on his white shirt. He looked at Jacob, his fist bloody before he went to turn the cooler's temperature back to normal.

The man in the chair was not moving, barely breathing to be fair. Bishop untied him from the chair before tying his hands and feet together like some boar, just fallen to a hunter's bullet. He left him on the ground, slowly soaking on water while he noted how interested the masked man was. So he was for the violence of the backstage as well. Wasn't that surprising coming from a man wearing a mask if you thought about it. He shook his head and chuckled as Jacob asked about letting the man die in the cooler. "Sadly I cannot let him die." there was a pile of rags near the entrance, and Bishop took one of them and knelt next to the chair to slowly clean it up from any blood, using the water on the tiled floor to clean what wouldn't come off.

The victim on the floor had proven to be a little tougher than some other people Damian had interrogated, but just not tough enough. With Bishop, you either talk, or die in the slowest of ways. He will use up the last bits of energy you have in you to make you speak, turn your current condition against you. It was always fascinating to understand what your little trapped prey fears or expresses the most pain too. Theatrical torture wasn't excluded when it was needed. In other countries, Bishop had already been asked to 'perform', as they put it, a public interrogation. Depending on the person, some were being a relevant challenge, but Bishop usually got them to speak. He admired old traditional ways of making people speak, especially some old Nordic ones he had tested out on those who only needed to apologies before leaving this world.

He looked at Jacob when he finished cleaning the chair, wondering what exactly was his job in the Bianchi family. He did not often speak his own thoughts, when he did it was because he believed the answer was important and of some relevance to his own situation. He wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow he was asked to work with that gas masked man. And from what he was seeing and hearing from him, they might be able to get along. "Tell me, what is your place in here? What does the family need a man who hides his face for?" he picked up another clean rag and put it under his foot to sponge away some of the water and blood on the floor. He wasn't a maid, but he preferred to avoid accidents, like an important person slipping on the spoiled floor. The man had no obligation to answer him. Bishop obeyed to only a handful of people and he wanted to know if he should treat that man in front of him like his equal or like a subordinate that didn't deserve much attention. And mostly he wanted to know how important he was to the family, if something happened and he had to, disappear. Strange things to think about when you just met a person, but those questions were the ones Bishop was forced to ask himself and the concerned person. Who knows when someone can make him lose his temper and he might harm that same someone. Would be a shame if he accidentally hurt someone dear to the Bianchi.

The masked man was being evasive regarding his question. Not surprising coming from someone who hides their face. However he felt like the man wasn't making the right decision. He wasn't telling him everything, letting to the large man the pleasure of guessing exactly what he meant. He looked straight at him, rising with the dirty rags filled with blood. "You do what the Bianchi tell you to. Turns out we have the same job. How interesting." Bishop was not amused despite a relaxed tone. However his town betrayed as well how much credibility he had for that man in front of him. He cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He had all the time in the world in front of him now until he got new orders from the Bianchi.

Bishop slowly folded the dirty rags, blood soaked so deep, drips fell onto the floor when he wasn't slow enough. He gathered slowly the information he might have overheard on Jacob's subject while he was around members of the Bianchi family. He had probably been working for the Bianchi for a longer amount of time than himself, loyal to the rich mafia for a while now. He was probably the quiet type of man since Bishop didn't hear rumors of him rattle the floors of the mansion, or the streets for that matter. He had heard someone complain about fainting loyalties of a certain mercenary. A masked one to be exact. Without jumping on any conclusions, Bishop was still able to connect some dots with different events which have happened over the past few weeks. No doubt this man was starting to be a special type of issue to the family.

But then it hit him. The gas mask was only one between many others. He didn't realize until now that a man with a very similar status had been of rather offensive trouble to his boss a few weeks ago. The man who stood up to the Bianchi running the family for now. Who stood up to protect what? An as good as dead woman and a crying cop? The reason why Shaun had decided to have those two under his control to do his bidding was still a mystery to Bishop, but the reason why that merc stood up for those same people was even more so. On his face he showed nothing of the realization he just experienced. He was just studying Jacob with his sharp eyes while folding the last bit of rag.

Maybe it was time to make that man understand where he stood now, in front of whom and with what power. Maybe he'll be clever enough to regain his 'precious' place in the Bianchi family while there was still time for him to do so. Redeem his image in front of the family. He didn't need to know however that Bishop had seen the last part of the dinner at the Trenchermen. That he was one of the men pointing guns at them, just for that night. "I more precisely work for the Bianchi as their own torturer. But I believe you've witnessed a little bit of that today." he showed the man on the floor, still out from the punch. "I take care of those who don't keep their contract, don't respect the rules, forget where their loyalties lie, who they have a deal with. I like to see myself as the alarm clock in the morning for those who decide to sleep in when there is work to be done." he threw the cloths in an empty bucket while still watching Jacob with piercing eyes. None of the two had presented themselves with their names, and Bishop didn't intend to.

The masked man seemed to catch the undertone in Bishop's words. That was way more than the man could possibly expect from the man. He didn't remember his name if it was ever mentioned somewhere. Probably he only heard it once and deemed it unnecessary to remember the name of someone who might die in the next minute. Interesting however, how it was nearly impossible to understand what the man was thinking because of his mask. A very clever idea, to wear such a mask to hide any change of expression. Maybe, just maybe, the face under it was subject to changing expression very easily, and that was the reason behind the mask's sole existence. So when the man understood what Bishop was truly talking about, the Bianchi's personal ticking clock could not see a thing.

He looked at the man with a raised brow, agreeing to what he just said about a certain type of idiot. Was he shooting his own self when he said so? Was he considering himself as an idiot because he protected a cop and another criminal by going against his own boss? It would be normal for one to think so, but it wouldn't be easy for said person to admit it. "It would indeed take a very special brand of stupid to walk against their own boss. Especially when they know they could be dead the next day by one order as simple as a glare in their direction." he did not move from his position, his shoes were stained in blood and surely he should take them off before walking anywhere else in the house. He wasn't going to be the one to clean the biggest part of the mess, the Bianchi had their own special brand of lemmings to do that. He didn't stop watching the masked merc. He won't ask anything about him to the Bianchi, guessing that if they wanted him dead or taught a lesson, he would be the first on their call list.

And here it was, fear finally showing the tip of its nose. The tone used by the merc was admirable, in the way that he was trying so hard not to show his fear, but overacting always shows. And he was backing away, leaving the cooler and walking back to the entrance of the kitchen. Bishop followed him in his steps, stopping at the entrance of the cooler to remove his shoes. He picked them up from the floor and closed the cooler door behind him. It only took a kick of his foot to push away the little brick stopping the door from shutting completely. He then moved, his eyes locked on the masked man as he reached the sink. Did he punish people often? Depended on what number you set the word often to. "Sometimes. People here are usually intelligent enough not to cross the Bianchi." he pointed at the cooler. "However you see that sometimes there are people who believe that they are untouchable. Those are the ones who need to be...reminded that they are only men." he washed only his hands, once again. He will go take a shower in a minute anyway.

He could see in the way the merc was standing next to the door that he was ready to get away. And quite honestly it wasn't a bad idea at all. Bishop wasn't to do anything without an order, but if he was pushed to do so, he could probably get away with breaking a few limbs belonging to a nosy rat.