Bjorn leaned forward, his face inches from the commander's, and his voice exploded into the silence like a gunshot.
"TELL ME! DO YOU BLEED?!"
The battle commander did not reply. He just stared, his expression unchanged, his breathing steady.
Bjorn's eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped into something lower and more dangerous. "Because you will if you don't start talking."
Still nothing. The man sat there, silent, defiant, his gaze locked on some point in the distance, refusing to acknowledge Bjorn's presence.
Bjorn straightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, and then, without warning, he swung.
The slap was brutal. The sound of his palm connecting with the side of the battle commander's face echoed through the room like a thunderclap, and the man's head snapped to the side, his body jerking against the restraints. Blood sprayed from his mouth, and a tooth: one of his molars, flew out and clattered onto the floor, skittering across the smooth white surface.
