After a few long, chaotic minutes—
PullPull
Malik grunted as he tightened the rope around the young man's wrists, dragging them harshly behind his back. He didn't stop there; he looped the rope around a stick, then began to twist it with a ruthless rhythm.
"Aaahhh! Enough, stop already! He's tied well enough, why did you come too?! What are you all trying to do—squeeze oil out of me ? Do O look like I'm a damned olive?!" the youth cried, his eyes glassy with tears, his voice trembling somewhere between pain and panic.
Bang!
"I won't stop until your arm turns blue and black!" Malik snarled, delivering a smack to the back of his head with his right hand. Before the youth could recover, Malik yanked the spatial ring off his finger and returned to his work, twisting the stick again, drawing the rope tighter and tighter. The boy whimpered pitifully with each turn.
