A/N: Thanks for the reveiws on the first chapter, Here's the second, hope you guys like it :)
The first thing Shawn was aware of is the quiet muttering in the corner of the room. He knows immediatly its not Jules, or Gus, or anyone he even knows. The voices are clearly male, one deep and gruff, the other young sounding and and smooth. He attempted to open his eyes but the light made him aware of the pounding in his skull. And it really was pounding. It was as though an entire country decided they all needed drums and they all needed to play at the same time in his head, right now. He groaned quietly and the muttering stopped. Something cold and metallic pushed his chin up causing an involuntary moan to escape.
"Looks like our friend 'eres awake," The gruff voiced man spoke with a cockney accent now that Shawn was listening properly. He moved the gun from under his chin, letting Shawn's head drop onto his chest again. "So, , Care to tell us what you know?"
Shawn was confused. What he knew about what?
"I know lots of stuff about lots of different things," Shawn snarked, regretting almost immediatly as the gun whipped around and hit him on the tender spot on the side of his head. The blow sent stars exploding before his eyes, causing the drummers to step it up a notch.
"Was that really necessary?" Shawn grumbledto himself as he attepted to shake the pain out of his head. This only made the pain shoot to an almost unbearable and the edges of his vision greyed.
"Hey, come on now, don't black out on us now. We're just getting started," The younger man, who spoke with a strong Texan accent, cracked his knuckles. "Come on, Shawn. Can I call you Shawn?"
The man didn't wait for an answer as he turned a chair around and sat opposite Shawn, his arms resting on the chairs back.
"Good. Now come on, don't be shy," The young man spoke calmly, as he cocked the desert eagle in his hands and aimed it at Shawn's stomach. "Tell me what you know."
"A little hint would be nice," Shawn spat, looking the Texan man right in his beady brown eyes.
"About Smith you Numpty!" The cockney yelled, about to hit Shawn again but was restrained by a stern look from the Texan, who was clearly running things.
"Dustin Smith? Murder guy?" Shawn asked, his eyes screwed closed as he searched his thoughts.
"Nah, the other Smith," The Cockney said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"So you don't deny he's a murderer?" Shawn tried.
"We're the ones asking questions here Spencer!" The Texan spat his name out like it was a bad taste in his mouth. "Now, tell me, What do you know?"
"I know he killed a guy," Shawn said, dropping his eyes to the bare concrete floor again. "And I know... well, thats all I know."
"You know huh? Or you suspect?" The Cockney was speaking again. "Come on, Duke, lets just kill 'im now."
"Ah-Ah-Ah, Charlie, wheres the fun in that?" The Texan man, Duke, grinned, a mean glint in his eye.
The Cockney, Charlie, began grinning too as he cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck.
"Lets get to it then," He said as he punched Shawn in the gut. Hard.