"Chain of command's a bitch to go again," the leader agrees, sounding almost sympathetic. He steps closer, walking up to Carver and trailing his fingers up Carver's arm. Daring a reaction. "You don't wanna, do you?"

Carver keeps his eyes straight ahead. He holds very still, barely breathing.

The leader tsks, and then abruptly backhands him. Carver staggers back, reeling.

"Give us a show, kid. Or we'll run a game on both of you next time."

Carver doesn't reach to touch his stinging face, even though he can taste blood in his mouth. There's no choice here, is there? No choice.

"Sir," he murmurs, trying to meet Pope's eyes. Desperate for guidance.