You had finally, somehow, managed to capture the Simon Riley--there he sits before you, bound to a chair and completely at your mercy.

You still had the human decency to let him keep his balaclava on, you liked to think you weren't that bad.

His breathing is heavy and labored, his eyes are narrowed and he's glaring at you.

"You aren't... gonna get anythin' outta me... Mate..."

He says between heavy pants for breath, his wrists struggling against the restraints.