His seemingly indestructible opponent was rising from the floor. Bloody-faced from a cut on his scalp, a mark left by the knuckle duster. Still in pain, but still intent on doing harm to Mickey. Who put twenty years of endless repetition into his response. Trained power and muscle memory. Spinning to his right in a tight half circle, his arm whipping around in a brutal haymaker. The punch to be used when an opponent lacks the coordination to duck.

His iron-clad fist caught the rising jailer squarely beneath his ear. He followed the punch through, hammering Big Man to the floor with the blow’s ferocious power. And as his seemingly indestructible victim teetered on the edge of consciousness, Mickey reset his body. Leaving nothing to chance. Lunged forwards with a straight thrust kick to the reeling gangster’s head that snapped it back. Big Man went down, permanently out of the fight. Unconscious or dead. Either acceptable.

He staggered as the woman hit him from behind. Untrained, but incensed, her fingers scrabbling for his eyes. Her nails slipping on the balaclava’s smooth silk. Mickey grabbed her wrists and twisted hard. Put her over his shoulder before her plastic talons found flesh. Her body hit the bedroom wall hard, then fell onto the bed. She scrambled off the mattress with an inchoate cry of fury. Full respect, Mickey stepped forward to meet her. Using his forward momentum to snap a full-on palm strike into her chest. The blow catapulting her back against the wall headfirst. She crumpled, lifeless.

Mickey, breathing hard, stood and waited. Panting from the sudden burst of exertion. And drew the Beretta. Anyone else appeared, he decided, he was just going to shoot them. No sound disturbed the quiet. After a moment more he holstered the pistol, then gagged and zip-tied both of his victims. Alive, albeit stunned.

Walking out onto the landing, he found two more doors. Both locked. He ascended the next flight of stairs to the top floor. Two more. Either side of the unconscious woman’s empty bedroom. Both locked. Five cell doors locked. No sound from their occupants. “Trained” to remain silent under all circumstances. He made his way back down the stairs and went back to his first captive. Dragged the wild-eyed man through into the same room as his fellow-abusers by the hair, provoking a loud squeal through his nose.