Chapter 5 The Absurd Interrogation Of Marissa Baker

• In a basement of the Mancini mansion, Marissa Baker, an innocent student who’d accidentally wandered into the mafia’s dirty laundry, was tied to a chair, looking more like an unwilling participant in a circus act than a serious interrogation subject.
• Her captors, Tony Mancini and his ever-inept associate Victor, were about to show her just how “seriously” they took their jobs.
• “Well, keep crying, because we’re not letting you go,” Victor said nonchalantly.
• “Boss, go ahead and enjoy the show. I’ll handle this,” Victor added, gesturing for Tony to sit in a conveniently placed chair. He cracked his knuckles with an exaggerated flourish, ready for his moment of glory.
• Tony, still crouched before Marissa with a mix of genuine curiosity and sinister amusement, glanced over at Victor, who was standing by the door with an air of malicious glee. Victor’s cool demeanor didn’t quite fit the absurdity of the situation. “Victor,” Tony said with a smirk, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
• Victor’s face lit up with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for children in a toy store. “Boss, sit back and enjoy the show. I’ll handle this,” he said, gesturing Tony towards a chair in the corner of the room with an exaggerated flourish. “I’ve got some fun planned!”
• Marissa, now looking genuinely terrified, stared at Tony with pleading eyes. Her fear was palpable, but Tony’s cold expression didn’t waver. He patted her cheek with an oddly comforting pat that quickly turned into a series of painful smacks, making Marissa wince.
• Tony’s large hand gripped Marissa’s face, pulling it roughly as he sneered down at her. “Nice acting,” he muttered, before roughly shoving her face away.
• As Victor strode over to the assortment of torture devices displayed like macabre artwork, Tony took his seat, though he was far from relaxed. He lit a cigar, the small flame casting eerie shadows on his face, and took a slow drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that mingled with the room’s oppressive tension.
• Victor, with an air of someone who’d just been handed a prestigious award, began to inspect the tools of his trade. His hand hovered dramatically over each instrument as if trying to select the perfect one for a five-star meal. “You know, Marissa,” he began, his voice dripping with mock solemnity, “I’m having a very rough day.”
• Marissa, whose fear was palpable, looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “Please, no,” she whimpered, but her pleas seemed to bounce off the walls without a trace.
• Victor picked up a large, intimidating knife still wrapped in cloth. He held it up for dramatic effect, its blade glinting in the weak light. “Would you like to know who made me so upset?” he asked, turning it towards Marissa with a flourish.
• Marissa’s eyes widened in horror. “No, please, not that!” she cried.
• “Oh, but it’s so much fun,” Victor replied with a maniacal grin. He gently traced the knife along Marissa’s cheek, making a tiny cut that started to bleed. “You really know how to get under my skin, Marissa Baker.”
• Suddenly, Tony’s authoritative voice cut through the tension. “Hey!”
• Both Victor and Marissa froze in place.
• Blood had just begun to trickle from Marissa’s cheek when Victor turned, puzzled. Tony’s expression was serious, his cigar smoke curling around him.
• “Leave her face alone,” Tony ordered firmly.
• Victor looked bewildered, glancing between Tony and Marissa. “Since when does Boss care about stuff like this?” he wondered, still holding the knife.
• Shrugging it off, Victor replied, “Okay, Boss!” and turned back to Marissa with a menacing grin.
• With exaggerated care, Victor approached Marissa, the pliers in hand. “I want to make sure this hurts, but not too much. You see, it’s all about the right balance,” he explained, his tone overly serious as if he were discussing fine dining.
• Marissa’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. “No, please! I swear I’m not a spy!” she begged.
• Victor, ignoring her pleas, began to work with the pliers, but his clumsy grip only caused more comedic mishaps. He fumbled with the pliers, accidentally pinching his own fingers a few times and making Marissa flinch with every slip.
• Tony, meanwhile, observed with a mix of frustration and amusement. “Victor, are you even trying?” he asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke and watching as Victor continued his inept torturing techniques.
• Victor looked up sheepishly. “I’m trying, Boss. Just… not very well.”
• Marissa, caught between fear and disbelief, watched as Victor’s attempts became increasingly absurd. He somehow managed to entangle himself in a nearby rope, causing him to trip and stumble while trying to use the pliers. “Argh!” he shouted, yanking on the rope and inadvertently causing a pile of strange devices to crash down beside him.
• Tony couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. “Victor, you’re making this far more entertaining than I thought.”
• Victor, face flushed with embarrassment, stood up straight. “I’ll get it right. Just give me a moment!” he insisted, determined to prove himself.
• Tony remained impassive, occasionally taking a slow drag from his cigar. The scene was almost too surreal, as if he was watching a performance rather than a real-life torment.
• Victor’s torturing techniques became more elaborate, with the knife moving from Marissa’s arm to her leg, leaving a chaotic pattern of cuts and blood.
• Marissa’s cries were met with Victor’s twisted satisfaction. “Oh, you’re making such a scene! Keep going,” he said, enjoying the spectacle.
• Suddenly, Marissa fainted from exhaustion, her body slumping in her restraints. Victor, however, was undeterred. He signaled to his crew, who splashed cold water over Marissa to wake her up.
• Marissa jolted awake, shivering and disoriented. “What do you want from me?” she gasped.
• Tony’s expression remained stoic, but his irritation grew. He was beginning to regret letting Victor handle this.
• Victor, sensing a change in mood, hesitated. “Uh, Boss?” he said nervously.
• Tony sighed, looking at Victor with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “Are you seriously still at it?”
• Victor, his bravado faltering, looked around. “Well, it’s either this or I risk her dying on me. I don’t want another repeat of what happened with Kevin.”
• Tony rubbed his temples. “Okay, let’s wrap this up. I’ve had enough of this circus. You’ve got five minutes, Victor.”
• The room was tense, but with Tony’s looming presence and Victor’s faltering confidence, it was clear that this grim spectacle was nearing its end, but not without one final, comically tragic misunderstanding.
• “Victor, I swear if you mess this up again…” Tony warned, his voice trailing off as he focused on Marissa’s anguished face.
• The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to bear, as the boundaries between torture and farce began to blur in the dimly lit basement.
• The door swung open, and Antonio “The Jackal” Mancini, Tony’s father, strode in. His face was a mix of impatience and confusion. “Tony, what in the world is going on here? Oh, this girl again?”
• Tony, caught off guard, stood up quickly. “Dad, it’s not what it looks like!”
• Antonio’s eyes landed on Marissa, who was still tied to the chair. He raised an eyebrow. “Is this some kind of… unusual dating ritual?”
• Tony’s eyes widened. “Dad, no! She’s not—”
• Antonio chuckled, misunderstanding the situation entirely. “Well, if she’s into this, I suppose it’s not my place to judge. Just make sure you’re settled down soon, alright?”
• Victor, bewildered, glanced between Tony and his father. “Boss? Are we seriously doing this now?”
• Tony groaned. “Dad, stop! She’s not—”
• Antonio, already halfway out the door, called back, “I expect you to have a proper heir soon. And Tony, don’t forget to handle this… thing… appropriately.”
• Victor, relieved but still confused, turned to Marissa. “Well, this has been a complete mess,” he muttered, looking lost.
• Marissa, exhausted and in pain, looked at Tony with pleading eyes. “Please, Tony, just make it stop.”
• Tony, moved by her suffering, decided to intervene. “Victor, that’s enough for today. We’re done here,” he said firmly.
• Victor, still perplexed but somewhat relieved, dropped the pliers. “Fine. If you say so, Boss,” he grumbled.
• Marissa, trying to regain her composure, asked, “So, are we done for today? What about tomorrow?”
• Victor shot her a look of mock annoyance. “You think I’m Einstein, don’t you? Just be happy we’re done for today.”
• *