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A cut stings the side of Peter’s lip. The knife that nicked him continues down, pressing harder.
“If you aren’t willing to betray Magneto, well…” the masked man brings the knife down to Peter’s lower ribs, twisting. “Then this is your fault, isn’t it?” Bile burns in Peter’s throat. He tries to say “Stop,” but it comes out as a pathetic sputter.
The man chuckles. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll stop.” Peter tries to shake his head and his vision swims. The man shrugs. “Alright, your choice.” Peter feels a sudden pain erupt in his head. Then, darkness.