INT. AN EMPTY WAREHOUSE ROOM
Jimmy looks down at Robert’s severed finger. He glances up at Robert, who has stopped struggling and is now sitting numb and motionless in his chair. He appears to be in a state of shock, unaware of the world around him, but the goons are still holding him firmly in the chair. The Grey Man sighs and shakes his head.
THE GREY MAN
Kid, I’m going to let you in on a secret. You and your friend? You’re not going to survive me and my associates over there going at you full tilt. I’ve got no doubt that you and your crew are a couple of bad motherfuckers, but it’s all relative. I’ve seen hardened killers reduced to sobbing wrecks. I’ve seen men who sincerely believed they had God on their side renounce everything they’ve ever believed. I’ve seen people do shit to another person that was so sick, you could almost call it brilliant. But you know what I’ve never seen?
I’ve never seen anybody not crack. Maybe it takes an hour, maybe it takes a day. A week. A month. A year. But it always happens. We’ve got all the time in the world.
Jimmy looks at Robert’s catatonic form.
Why are you doing this? I mean… Jesus Christ, why?
The Grey Man pulls back, disgusted.
THE GREY MAN
Do you think I like this? Do you think I’m the kind of guy that gets his rocks off tying people up and torturing them for kicks? I’m not. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to defend everyone in my line of work, because the fact of the matter is that there really are some sadists out there. At best, they’re bullies. At worsts, they’re monsters in human skin. But me, I’m just a guy who had to make a hard choice.