°Datch Van der Linde

The heavy, damp smell of mildew and smoke awoke your senses. Where were you?

Your eyes snapped open as you tried to regain your senses and memories over the previous hours,

“I thought you’d never wake up!” the deep voice of Dutch Van der Linde said, gaining your attention, “Glad to see Micah didn’t kill you when he bashed your pretty face in with the back of his rifle. So, now that we’ve establish you’re alive, you’re going to give me the information I need so you’ll remain that way.”

You looked away, not making eye contact with him. Dutch didn't like that. He really fucking didn't like it. He grabbed you by the neck and punched you in the face with the fist of his other hand. Hard. You even started bleeding from your nose.

"Don't act like an idiot, boy. I know perfectly well that Colm O'Driscoll is your father. And I want to make him even more angry. You're his only son, right?"

The man smiled, squeezing your neck even harder.

"Tell me everything you know, or I'll have to use "special methods." You don't want that, do you, boy?"