INT. THE ROOM – TIME UNKNOWN
Through swollen bloody eyes MICKEY comes to. He looks around himself to see he’s strapped to a chair, naked. His ankles and feet held fast by repeated lashings of silver duck tape.
Beneath him pools of blood and sweat. His Blood, mostly his sweat.
Harsh fluorescent lighting illuminates the big man showing the scars of his nearly forty years of a hard life. Most of them criminal.
He tries to shake the cloud, the fog that brings with it a searing pain to the fore of his head and as he rolls his jaw he remembers why he is here.
He is not alone in the room of pain. In the corner of the room just over Mickey’s right shoulder, the two brothers stand huddled in intense conversation. JOHNNY, Mickeys contemporary in age and experience is taking shit from his little brother FRANK who is not happy at all about the state of play.
Johnny’s shirt is bloody and sleeves rolled he points a bloody finger at his little brother.
Mickey can’t hear what they are saying and nor do we but he’s happy for this moment that allows him to regain his bearings.
He strains to look over his left shoulder and sees his clothes dumped on a chair.
WE HEAR a TABLE DRAGGED ACROSS HARD FLOOR and Mickey turns to see Johnny slowly dragging a painters table across the tiled floor. Slowly, deliberately. All the while staring straight at Mickey.
Johnny places the table in front of Mickey close enough for him to see but not close enough that Mickey would be able to grab anything should he somehow be able to break his bonds.
Johnny leaves the table and walks back to Frank and picks up the bag. The bag which Mickey has seen far too often and know what’s in store.
Johnny pulls out various instruments of torture and lays them out on the table in front of Mickey. Dragging out the suspense as much for himself as for Mickey.
When done he walks away and back out of view.
The tools are well looked after. Well loved.
WE HEAR a CHAIR DRAGGED AGAINST TILES and it is placed in front of Mickey back first allowing Johnny to straddle the seat cowboy style and see into his victims eyes.
The two men stare at each other for a long time.
Johnny pulls out a packet of cigarettes and searches for a lighter.
Then finds it.
He pulls out a battered old silver zippo making a point of showing Mickey it is now his.
He flicks it open and stops.
He offers Mickey a cigarette but Mickey just stares back.
Johnny lights his own cigarette and holds onto the smoke a little longer than he should before exhaling down.
Not so gobby now are we?
Mickey splutters something.
Mickey motions that he can’t talk properly so Johnny leans in a little.
Mickey spits out some blood on Johnny’s shoe.
He smiles a little forlorn at Mickey and gets back up kicking the chair over, flicking his cigarette into the room.
He looks at his shoe. The blood and spittle glisten on the tip. He bends down and removes the shoe and returns to Mickey.
Lick it off.
Mickey looks at him. As If.
Instead Johnny takes the shoe and pushes the blood soak tip across Mickey’s face smearing the blood and spittle across his lips. Mickey struggles but Johnny grabs the back of Mickey’s head and forces him to eat the shoe.
Mickey spits out more blood in Johnny’s general direction and yells at him. To which Johnny simply yells back at him and then laughs.
Ok. No breakfast for you then.
As return the shoe to it’s correct foot and composes himself.
Mickeys eye burn at Johnny.
Stop dicking around. Get on with it!
Johnny takes one final look at Mickey savouring the moment.
Johnny takes his shirt off revealing his white singlet and dozen of prison tattoos.
Mickey smiles. Let’s.
Johnny advances and raises his fist and swings.