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dweemeister · 2 months

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The Robe (1953)

Henry Koster’s The Robe, distributed by 20th Century Fox, appeared near the beginning of an era where religious epics and sword-and-sandal films became massive box office draws worldwide. Cecil B. DeMille’s Samson and Delilah (1949) and Mervyn LeRoy’s Quo Vadis (1951) had already laid the foundation on which Koster’s film, adapting Lloyd C. Douglas’ novel of the same name, would find its success. Despite The Robe being highly influential in Hollywood and becoming the highest-grossing film of 1953, the likes of DeMille’s The Ten Commandments (1956) and William Wyler’s Ben-Hur (1959) overtook it artistically and financially – no shame there, as those are two far superior films.

So what is The Robe’s claim to movie history beyond its initial theatrical earnings? When The Robe first came to theaters, 20th Century Fox advertised it as the first film ever made in CinemaScope. Created by Fox’s president, Spyros P. Skouras, CinemaScope was a format in which a widescreen camera lens contracted its widescreen shots onto regular 35mm film and, during theatrical projection, another lens would de-contract the image from the 35mm film in order to project a widescreen format. Theaters would only need to make minor, inexpensive modifications to their projectors in order to show a film in true CinemaScope, a 2:55:1 widescreen aspect ratio. Almost all other films were shot in the Academy ratio at the time (1.37:1, close to the 4:3 ratio – think: black bars on the left- and right-hand sides of a widescreen monitor – seen on many older standard computer monitors and televisions). With increasing competition from television, Fox executives believed CinemaScope could be a way to lure audiences back into theaters. Despite this overreaction from Fox’s executives (as well as the other major Hollywood studios), the legacy of CinemaScope’s innovation is still apparent today. Seven decades later, widescreen formats, not the Academy ratio, are the default in film and television.

Walking through the markets of Rome, returning Roman Empire tribune Marcellus Gallio (Richard Burton) reunites with his childhood sweetheart, Diana (Jean Simmons), who is now promised to Marcellus’ rival, Caligula (an always-sneering Jay Robison). Not long after, Marcellus – out of pettiness rather than financial sense – outbids Caligula for the Greek slave, Demetrius (Victor Mature). Marcellus immediately frees Demetrius, but Demetrius thinks of himself as honor-bound to stay by Marcellus. Elsewhere, an incensed Caligula reassigns Marcellus to Palestine – which, to the film’s Roman characters, might as well be the armpit of the Roman Empire. Marcellus and Demetrius go to Jerusalem, where they witness a man named Jesus enter the city, heralded by crowds of Jews greeting him with palms. Several days later, Judean Governor Pontius Pilate (Richard Boone) orders Marcellus to crucify Jesus on Calvary. Marcellus executes the order but, during and after the crucifixion, witnesses and experiences supernatural events. Demetrius, who has become a follower of Jesus during that week, obeys Marcellus when he asks him to fetch Jesus’ robe. The moment Marcellus dons the robe, he suffers something like a seizure. He falls out with Demetrius, and spends the rest of the film reckoning with his conscience over his role in Jesus’ crucifixion.

The film also stars Michael Rennie as Peter, Dean Jagger as Justus, Torin Thatcher as Senator Gallio, and Ernest Thesiger as Emperor Tiberius. Michael Ansara and Donald C. Klune are both uncredited as Judas Iscariot and Jesus, respectively.

The Robe has the misfortune of peaking in the first half. The adapted screenplay from Gina Kaus (1949’s The Red Danube), Albert Maltz (one of the blacklisted Hollywood Ten; 1950’s Broken Arrow), and Philip Dunne (1941’s How Green Was My Valley) is at its most interesting whenever Marcellus and Demetrius find themselves at odds with the other. In the scenes they share together, that happens often. But when Demetrius disappears after their disagreement over Jesus’ robe midway through, the film begins to sag with no foil for Burton to play off of.

For the entirety of this film, Richard Burton’s acting is overwrought. Burton, who had just arrived in Hollywood the year before to star in My Cousin Rachel (1952), is leaning too deeply into his theatrical roots here. His grandiose exclamations, stiff facial acting, and inconsistent line delivery result in a performance that is easily the weakest part of this film (Jean Simmons is also guilty, to a far lesser degree, of these same flaws in her performance). The Robe requires Burton’s Marcellus to undergo a spiritual conversion – becoming an adherent of Jesus despite following orders to crucify him, a developmental arc more dramatic than any other character’s in this film. Burton’s inability to convincingly sell this conversion (the stoic masculine tension, which some will interpret as coded homosexuality, between Burton’s Marcellus and Mature’s Demetrius does not help) weakens the film’s spiritual power.

Instead, it is Mature who is The Robe’s reliable scene-stealer. Mature, at one time likened to a “miniature Johnny Weissmuller”, has the classical Greek physique that, frankly, Burton does not. And in contrast to Burton at this time in their careers, Mature was more capable of a nuanced performance, as evidenced in his roles as Doc Holliday in My Darling Clementine (1946) and Nick Bianco in Kiss of Death (1947). As Demetrius, his soul hardened through his enslavement, there remains hope for a life free from the yoke of the Roman Empire and its callous slave masters. One sees it in his face during Holy Week, culminating with seeing Jesus dying on the cross. His faith is there, too, during a torture scene upon his return to Rome and an encounter with Peter. Amid miracles and cruelties, Mature’s Demetrius is simply the most compelling character of The Robe and the viewer – through Mature’s performance, especially in contrast to those of Jean Simmons and Richard Burton’s – can discern his genuine turn of faith. The Robe’s failure to showcase this inner awakening more believably is the fault of its two central actors and its screenplay; Mature’s performance and Demetrius’ characterization are all that saves the narrative.

One aspect of Christianity that The Robe captures confusingly (and oxymoronically) is the insignificance of Judea and the prominence of early Christianity in Rome in the time immediately following Jesus’ crucifixion. Oftentimes in Biblical epics, Judea is a centerpiece of the Roman Empire when, in truth (and in The Robe), it was a relative backwater. By Caligula’s reign between 37 and 41 CE, Christianity almost certainly would not have had a substantial presence in Rome at that time. So while Caligula would probably see Christianity as a threat, the film’s decision to treat the early Christians as a clear and present danger to his rule and the Roman state religion is the film’s glaring historical inaccuracy. The Robe – the book and the film – muddies the timeline from Jesus’ crucifixion to the film’s final scene in Caligula’s court. The relative suddenness of the Roman Empire seeing the early Christians as a very minor cult into becoming an Empire-wide menace is difficult to reconcile.

With few other post-silent film era Biblical epics as a guide, The Robe helps set the aesthetic of its fellow Biblical epics and sword-and-sandals movies going forward through its costumes and production design. The work of costume designers Charles LeMaire (1950’s All About Eve, 1956’s Carousel) and Emile Santiago (1952’s Androcles and the Lion, 1958’s The Big Country) is resplendent, regardless of either the Roman or Judean setting. Art directors Lyle R. Wheeler (1939’s Gone with the Wind, 1956’s The King and I) and George Davis (All About Eve, 1963’s How the West Was Won) and set decorators Walter M. Scott (All About Eve, 1965’s The Sound of Music) and Paul S. Fox (The King and I, 1963’s Cleopatra) all make full use of the CinemaScope format and color to enliven the scenery – a sumptuous visual treat for the viewer, and, to reiterate, setting a standard that the crew of The Ten Commandments and Ben-Hur both would study and surpass.

Of all of 20th Century Fox contracted stalwarts behind the camera, composer Alfred Newman was the studio’s most important figure. If Fox’s executives needed a composer to craft a score for what they would consider would be their prestige motion picture of the year, Newman – who composed the original 20th Century Fox fanfare and its CinemaScope extension (the extension, which is now inextricable from the fanfare, was first introduced in 1954’s River of No Return) – was almost always their first choice.

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In one of Newman’s finest scores of his career, it is his choral compositions, with incredible help from his longtime choral supervisor Ken Darby, that form the score’s emotive spine. Jesus’ motif, shared between wordless choir and strings, appears almost immediately, in the opening seconds of the “Prelude”. During the many invocations of a Messiah before Jesus’ first physical appearance in The Robe, his motif shifts, changes form, and modulates – imparting not spiritual comfort or devotion, but a mysteriousness and otherworldliness. When Jesus (whose face we never see) first appears in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, the cue “Passover/Palm Sunday” represents one of the rare juxtapositions of the brass-heavy martial music representing the Roman presence in Judea and Jesus himself. The modulation to a major key at 1:22 in this cue, with festive percussion, also includes one of the only instances of celebratory choral music in the score. Jesus’ motif in “Passover/Palm Sunday”, appears at 2:26 – cementing his (and Christianity’s) association with the cue, and appearing as the only instance in which one might consider this motif triumphant.

Choruses, which Western viewers so often associate in religious movies as angelic musical devices, become mournful in “The Crucifixion” – arguably the standout cue of Newman’s score. Even though one might be well aware of Jesus’ death and can anticipate a turn in the music (starting moments earlier in “The Carriage of the Cross”), it is startling to hear Newman’s composition change so rapidly. But it is in these several minutes depicting Jesus’ final moments that Newman, with modifications to his harmonies and orchestration, transforms Jesus’ motif to evoke its tragic dimensions. It is magnificent scoring from Newman, and this is not even mentioning his wonderful demarcation of Roman and Judean identities through his score.

In a film about faith – how it comforts, destroys, heals, and vexes – one wishes that the characterization of The Robe’s supposed lead characters in Marcellus and Diana could feel more plausible. The film’s final scene, possibly allegorizing of screenwriter Albert Maltz’s travails as a blacklisted figure in Hollywood, is decently powerful, but it needs far more storytelling support from numerous scenes preceding it.

As it is, the film’s expressive power lies within Demetrius and Victor Mature’s performance. So how fortunate that, because Fox also wanted to make a sequel to The Robe even before it finished production, Mature also signed a contract to appear in a sequel. Nine months after The Robe made its theatrical debut, Victor Mature starred in Demetrius and the Gladiators, directed by Delmer Daves and also seeing Michael Rennie and Jay Robinson reprise their roles as Peter and Caligula, respectively. Though it did not top the box office for that year like The Robe did, Demetrius and the Gladiators was a financial boon for Fox.

With Hollywood’s major studios always ready to respond to the box office successes of their rivals, The Robe helped make possible the decade of Biblical and sword-and-sandals epics to come – and the required viewings for many a Sunday School student in the years hence. These films were Studio System Hollywood in full maximalism, adopting human and tactile scales seldom seen today.

Yet outside of churchgoers, The Robe – for its CinemaScope and genre-specific innovations – has seen its standing slip gradually over the years, no thanks to the reputations of better movies of this tradition and, regrettably, decisions to keep 20th Century Fox’s valuable past under lock and key. 20th Century Fox’s refusal to distribute their classic films more often and more widely – before and after the studio’s 2019 takeover by the Walt Disney Company (and post-takeover, I believe the situation is now worse) – is resulting in films like The Robe slip through the proverbial cracks of film history, sights unseen for younger film buffs. That is unfortunate, especially as The Robe, almost incidentally (and no matter my aforementioned criticisms of the work itself), continues to quietly wield, by virtue of being the first CinemaScope film, a remarkable influence over cinema worldwide.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

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deepinthelight · 4 months

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Santiago Cabrera's characters in Star Trek: Picard

#santiago cabrera #cristobal rios #ian #emmet #mister hospitality #emil #enoch #star trek picard

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enigma-the-mysterious · 1 year

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We only wanted low stakes holo hijinks for Picard Season 2!

How did it end up like this?

#picard #star trek picard #star trek #aramis in space #orginal post #not incorrect quotes #raffi #raffi musiker #michelle hurd #elnor #emil #emmet #ian #mr hospitality #lol #santiago cabrera #season 1 episode 8 #broken pieces

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nie-narzekam · 1 year

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Athos Being Done With Other Aramises Part 3

#Athos to Picard: good luck with that monsieur #Emil: *takes notes furiously*#athos and the aramises #cristóbal rios #aramis in space #santiago cabrera #bbc musketeers #athos #tom burke #star trek la sirena

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regionalpancake · 1 year

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#yes there is only one mobile emitter because reasons #holosquad #holo-squad #holo squad #emil (emh)#Emmet (ETH)#ian (eeh)#Enoch (enh)#mister hospitality #steward (ehh)#santiago cabrera #star trek picard #Picard season 1

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thefinalfrontpage · 7 months

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Fic cover for @jazzfic 's amazing and spooky contribution to Holoween 2023 run by @holo-squad

Friend Corn Wants to Play - jazzfic - Star Trek: Picard [Archive of Our Own]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: La Sirena Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Emil | La Sirena’s Emergency Medical Hologram & Agnes Jurati Characters: Agnes Jurati, Emil | La Sirena’s Emergency Medical Hologram, Enoch | La Sirena’s Emergency Navigational Hologram, Cristóbal Rios Additional Tags: holoween, Holodecks & Holosuites (Star Trek), Mild Horror, Background Relationships, Gallows Humor Summary:

Fears are silly, right? But she has Emil on her side, so surely Agnes can face this one.

Written for holoween week run by @holo-squad

#@jazzfic #regionalpancakeedits #fanfic book covers #fic rec #agnes jurati #alison pill #emil (emh)#santiago cabrera #holoween #holoween2023

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 2 years

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Failsafe

Blood-smeared hands clenched around the piece of tritanium protruding from his stomach, Rios wondered if disabling the emergency holograms had been such a good idea after all.

He’d been so fed up with them - the EHH’s smarminess, Emmet’s snoring, Enoch’s enraging good mood, Emil’s lecturing and even with Ian who kept humming these stupid Scottish folk songs when he worked; he’d had enough of their persistent company, of one of them always popping up out of nowhere for no real reason at all when all Cris wanted was to be left alone, madre de dios. He’d had enough of staring into variations of his own face on days where he avoided mirrors at all cost.

Thus, two nights ago, with Enoch blathering about some embellished “emergency” in the automated astro-navigational mapping system, Rios had pulled the plug. A hefty command and some tapping around in La Sirena’s mainframe, and - quiet. Finally. Some peace and quiet and no one shimmering in-between him and the solitude of space anymore.

Of course, he hadn’t considered an actual emergency to happen at that point.

He hadn’t expected a pressurized cargo container to explode.

He hadn’t expected tritanium shards to blast through the cargo bay like a shower of fucking arrows.

He definitely hadn’t expected one of them to skewer him like a pig on a stick.

But here he was, unbelievably still conscious, staggering through the lower deck, hunched over and dizzy with pain and blood loss, and he would gladly have given a whole year’s supply of his best Aguardiente if only the EMH would reappear.

Cris knew he had only one chance of surviving this. He had to make it to the bridge. Get to his chair. Log into the ship’s mainframe and manually re-activate the Emergency Hologram protocol.

Somehow, he had reached the metal staircase leading up to the main deck. Breathing raggedly, he groped for the handrail and hung on to it, his hand slick with blood. His other hand, he kept clamped around the tritanium piece embedded in his stomach. He could feel it inside him, lodged in his guts, each step, each breath causing agony.

His shirt was blood-soaked, the dark wetness spreading down his pants, and he was increasingly lightheaded. Something vital had been shredded inside him. He probably needed a transfusion. Or three. He needed the EMH.

He needed to get up those fucking stairs.

Cris looked up, at the lights softly illuminating La Sirena’s nightly bridge. Then he took a shuddering breath, grabbed the handrail harder, lifted - ow, coño, that hurt - his foot and pulled himself up onto the first step.

Then the second.

Ow. Mamá, ayúdame…

He paused, legs shaking, pain ripping through his insides. Tried to catch his breath through gritted teeth, every movement of his torso aggravating his torment.

Then he took another step, almost slipping, his boot slick with his own blood. Catching himself against the railing, he sunk down onto the step, unable to remain upright anymore. He curled up around the searing pain in his gut and squeezed his eyes shut.

Mamá…

Through a film of tears, he blinked them open again. The bridge was so close. Only four more steps.

It was impossible.

Thick, dark blood was still oozing through his fingers and dripping down onto the grated metal. His hands and feet were tingling, his legs felt like water. Cris was panting now, the tritanium piece moving inside him with every breath, the stomach muscles around it cramping.

No use.

He was going to die here, all alone, and La Sirena would keep drifting through space like a lost mermaid in a soulless sea.

Rios chuckled, and it sounded like a sob.

So much for fucking fairy tales.

“What is the nature of - oh, bloody hell…!”

Rios wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. It was a known fact that dying caused the body to release a cocktail of comforting hormones into its failing system. You would see things, hear voices that weren’t real.

The EMH, however, seemed very real as he bent over him, brown eyes wide in alarm.

Rios blinked. ¿Cómo estás–”

“Don’t talk, Captain,” Emil shut him up, already ripping Rios’ shirt open to expose the wound, a tricorder flashing and chirping angrily in his hand.

Cris should have felt relief, but, curiously, he wasn’t feeling much of anything anymore. The pain was receding, and his sole reaction to the hologram’s appearance was utter confusion.

“But I… disabled you…”

The brown eyes were on him again, worried and, somehow, indignant at the same time.

“Ian installed a failsafe.” The EMH ran something cool and shiny over Rios’ belly as he explained, and blessed numbness spread in Cris’ lower body. “The ship would reactivate us if certain parameters were met. In my case, if your vital signs reached critical levels.”

Rios opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue was thick in his mouth, and his eyelids were suddenly very heavy. Everything was a bit nebulous, and maybe a holographic mutiny hadn’t been such a bad idea after all…

“Emil…,” he croaked, out of strength for more words to come.

“You can thank Ian later. And me,” Emil said, the sarcasm in his voice unusually soft as he kept working on Rios, swiftly and efficiently, and that was the last thing Cris heard before he drifted off into a cloud of anesthetics.

#whumptober2022 #no.3 #a hair’s breadth from death #impaled #star trek picard #aramis in space #fanfic #cristobal rios #emil (emh)#santiago cabrera #blood tw #injury tw

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jazzfic · 2 years

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[ID: Drawing in graphite pencil of La Sirena's Emergency Medical Hologram, Emil. He is in close three quarter portrait with a thoughtful expression, and is wearing his usual dark coat over a white shirt with the collar undone. /End ID]

Emil, having a moment's daydream. If holograms daydream at all, that is, and were you to ask him, he would likely scoff at the suggestion.

#star trek picard #emil (emh)#holo squad #my art #star trek fanart #santiago cabrera #pencil sketch #I hope I did the id well enough #I need to start doing those #anyway I found this hard but chasing the natural light gave some goal at least #success i guess!

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topguncortez · 1 year

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Bad Medicine | Chapter 3

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

synopsis: A wealthy Italian mobster sets up his daughter to marry the head of one of the last remaining mafias in California. The union was supposed to create and heal the damage between two families, but all it does is cause more harm than good. MAJOR SLOW BURN (ENEMIES TO LOVERS)

word count: 3.2k

Warnings: death/murder, guns, violence, physical abuse, cursing, mentions of prostitution, mentions of murder, blood, nudity, mentions of drugs, mentions of a brothel, torture, stabbing, burning, gun shots

Jake was never really a fan of the club. He’d much rather go to the rings instead, but like the Joker, he felt the need to show up to his own club. He stood on the second floor, leaning against the railing, looking down at the packed dance floor. He eyed Rooster and his other close friend, Javy from his spot. Javy had some redhead pressed up against him, his hand on her hips, their lips locked, merely seconds away from fucking on the dance floor. Rooster was sandwiched in between a blonde woman and a tall muscular brunette man. Bob stood next to Jake, watching everything. Bob was like a hawk, his eyes searching for the enemy. Jake sometimes wonders if he made a mistake in choosing Rooster for head of security, but Bob had a hard time killing a spider.

Jake raised his glass of dark bourbon to his lips, “How are things at the house?” He asked Bob.

“So far silent,” Bob said, “Leo said she took a bath and locked herself in the bedroom. Emile went home for the night. That Payback guy asked if he could stand by since we were gone, and I said that’s okay.”

“Do we trust him?”

“No reason not to,” Bob shrugged, “He’d be a fucking idiot to go against Santiago and whisk his daughter off to some place.”

Jake smirked and nodded. He had only met Gianni Santiago once, and from that brief meeting, he could tell what a sick person he was. Gianni had shown up to a meeting, hands still stained with blood, eyes still wide from the high. He had walked into the boardroom with a woman, bare and on a leash behind him.

“Dead man fucking walking,” Bob said eyeing a new face on the dance floor. Jake stood up taller, watching as the man in question went over and threw his arm around Isabella, who Jake had been avoiding all night, “He’s on your girl.”

“He can have her,” Jake scoffed, and threw back the rest of his bourbon, “Let him have a little fun first. . . I want him in the Chamber on the pew at midnight.”

“What about Y/N?”

“What about her?” Bob opened his mouth like he was going to say something but Jake cut him off, “Business is not going to change just cause some bitch lives in my house now. Gomez, on the pew, at midnight.”

Bob nodded his head, knowing better than to go against Jake’s order. Out of all of them, Bob still acted as though he was still in the ranks. Jake was his superior officer for all intents and purposes, and Bob was not going to disobey a superior’s order. Jake clapped his friend on the back before looking back over the crowd. His green eyes went back to watching the man, Jeffery Gomez, weasel his way into getting Isabella to dance with him. Isabella flashed a look up at Jake, who sent her a smug smile. Isabella was clueless and would do anything to make Jake jealous, even if that meant grinding up on a man who would be headless by the time the night is over. Bob threw his head back, drinking down the rest of his drink. That was probably the only thing that changed about Bob Floyd, he started drinking.

“I’ll see you back at the house,” Bob said, patting Jake’s back, “I’ll go let the guys know so they can get ready.”

“Maze?” The maze was one of Rooster’s most prized possessions. He had built it underneath the garden, and could control the pathways with an ipad. Rooster put his prisoners in there and watched as they struggled to try and get out. . .no one ever made it out alive. They either were killed in the maze or died of starvation trying to get out. Sometimes he would make it a quick death, other times he liked to watch them suffer.

“Nah,” Bob sighed, “I think he might take a page out of Gianni’s book. . . missing junk.”

“Bastard,” Jake smirked and shook his head, “Send me an update about our prisoner when you get home. Make sure she hasn’t flung herself off the balcony or slit her wrists in the tub yet.”

Bob nodded, retreating away with some guards on his footsteps. Jake leaned back over the railing, looking around, spotting a girl staring him up and down. Her tan legs were exposed as she sat on a leather couch. Her deep red manicured nails gently scratched her exposed thigh, and she tilted her head back, giving Jake a show. Jake licked his lips, setting his empty glass down on a ledge and walking over to her. Her friends squealed as Jake got close. He held his hand out to her, and she looked at her friends with a smile, before pushing up off her seat and following him.

“Where are we going?” She asked him innocently.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake answered. He walked downstairs, her hand never leaving his. Jake pushed his way through the crowd, which really wasn’t that hard as everyone seemed to part like Moses and the Red Sea. Jake made his way over to Rooster, who was now kissing the blonde girl, while the man behind him kissed up and down his neck, “Hey, we got shit to do. The orgy can wait.”

Rooster lifted his head up and Jake nodded his head to where he had spotted Jeffery earlier, “Ah, Jefe has entered the building?”

“Falling into the fucking venus fly trap,” Jake said.

“Gross man,” Rooster said, scrunching up his face in disgust. He kissed the blonde one more time, before detangling from the two of them, “Pretty sure Coyote went down to the lounges.”

“And you’re calling me gross?” Jake joked. Rooster just shook his head and followed Jake down towards the private longues, “Oh this is. . . “

“Lily,” The girl answered.

“I don’t like it. . . Cherry,” Jake said and the girl nodded.

“You check her age?” Rooster whispered.

“Does it matter?” Jake asked and then turned to the girl, “You’ll be a good girl for me, right?” The girl nodded wordlessly and Jake smirked. He walked over to the closed door of one of the private rooms, “Wrap that shit up kids, we got work.” Jake yelled knocking on the door. He could hear Javy groan and laughed at his friend telling whatever girl he was with to get off of him.

“Couldn’t fucking wait?” Javy asked, opening the door half naked.

“I’ll let you blow your load all over Gomez’s face. Now come on,” Jake said and winked at the redhead who was behind Javy, “You,” Jake said turning to Cherry. He grabbed her face and placed a rough kiss on her lips, “Go with them.”

“B-but I thought-”

“No, you didn’t think anything,” He grabbed the girl's chin and looked into her blue eyes, “Do as you're told, go with them,” Jake demanded and the girl cowered away. Javy wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to follow him, “Fucking women. They don’t make them like they used to.”

“Aimless housewives?” Rooster asked.

“Yeah. They all seem to have something to say now.”

“Well, hate to break it to ya, don’t think your wife is going to listen much either,” Rooster said, patting his friends back before heading towards the SUV.

“She’ll learn,” Jake muttered to himself, fixing his collar and walking towards the dark alley behind the club. Their driver was waiting for them, and opened the door for Jake to get in. He was thankful that they made the exit swiftly, he had enough of the paparazzi snapping pictures of him leaving the clubs with women lately. Bob sent Jake a text letting them now that Gomez had been captured and they were working on bringing him back to the compound. Jake locked his phone and made eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror and nodded.

— — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — —

The night sky in San Diego was foggy, and cloud covered. Y/N looked up at the sky as she lounged in the infinity pool. She had snuck out of her room past her guards, leaving a trail of clothes in case they completely started shitting their pants at her disappearance. The water was cool as it relaxed her, but so did the wine she drank too. She had already been missing the Italian night sky, being able to see the constellations from her balcony.

Y/N pushed off the ledge she was leaning against, and floated in the middle of the pool on her back. The night air was cool, and left goose bumps over her naked body. Her eyes searched for the different constellations in the sky, easily being able to point out Scorpius, her favorite one. She could remember the story of the cluster of stars from hearing her mother tell it over and over.

She took a big breath and pushed herself underwater, letting her body float softly towards the bottom. She felt her back hit the bottom of the pool, she opened her eyes, seeing the distorted picture above her of the night sky. Y/N could feel her lungs and eyes start to burn as she counted the seconds that passed by. The burning of the chlorine was slightly inviting as she relaxed into the water, feeling her body being gently tugged by the water.

She expelled all the air from her lungs, watching as the air bubbles floated to the surface. It was quiet, the only sound was the small buzz in her ears. The pounding in her head increased, so she pushed herself off the bottom and broke through the surface. She took a deep breath of fresh air, slicking her wet locks behind her. The night air was chilly, and sent goosebumps down her spine. Y/N dove back underwater quickly, when she broke the surface she was facing the back entrance to the house, and now noticed more lights on in the house.

Swimming herself over to the side of the pool, she pushed herself out and grabbed her towel, drying her naked form off. She quickly slid on her robe and tied her wet hair in a bun. She grabbed the remnants of the wine bottle and glass, moving quickly back into the house. She didn’t want to piss off Jake or any of the boys. She hardly had any real interaction with the boys besides Jake, but she could see the same look in Rooster’s eyes that was in Gianni’s, wild and electric. There always had to be one torturer in the group. Y/N rinsed out her wine glass and corked the bottle putting it away.

She was about to run back up the stairs when she heard a shrill scream. Her conscience told her to keep going up the stairs, but something in her told her to move towards the sound. She cursed herself, as her bare feet moved back down the glass staircase and towards the sounds of screaming. Y/N hadn’t really explored the house yet, so she was going off intuition and sound. Her feet brought her to a door that sat opposite of the office she was in earlier. She gently pushed the door open and found a single dark staircase that descended into more darkness.

“You’re a real dumbass, Santiago,” Y/N whispered to herself as she quietly walked down wooden stairs. This part of the house must be part of the original. She had found the articual layout in a box in Jake’s office. She didn’t mean to find it. . . well, yes she did mean to find it. Most mobsters were paranoid, and she knew that there had to be tunnels or paths under the house, and she was right. There was a tunnel that led from Jake’s office to a train station.

She walked as carefully and quietly as she could, but it was easy to move with the growing whimpers and screams from the basement. The basement looked like most did in slasher films and horror movies. It was dark, light by a couple bright light bulbs. It smelled of dirt and blood, and Y/N could see old blood splatters on the floor. There was also a wooden church bench in the middle of the room, which is what she assumed Jake meant when he said “the pew” earlier. She let out a gasp as she reached a level where she could see them, and some poor soul chained up by his wrists, dangling in front of them.

Rooster was holding a lighter to the man’s skin, letting it sizzle. The smirk on his face made Y/N’s stomach churn, Rooster was enjoying what he was doing. The chained up man’s body was covered in burns, bruises and fresh scars, more than likely from Rooster. His once soft, inviting brown eyes were dark and cold. His body language was different, his frame seeming larger as he inflicted pain upon the man.

Rooster removed the lighter from the man’s skin, setting it down, only to pick up a knife and run the blade down the freshly charred skin. The chained man let out a loud sob, as Jake held his hand up to stop Rooster. Jake stood with his arms crossed, eyeing the man chained in front of him. There was a man with gorgeous tan skin standing next to Jake, who had the same expression on his face, unreadable and ready to kill. Bob was the one who noticed Y/N, sending her a warning look and motioning softly for her to go back up the stairs before Jake noticed. Y/N shook her head, fear freezing her brain from making rational choices.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Jake said, stepping forward. He held his hand out and Rooster placed a knife in his hand. Jake twirled the knife over in his hand, walking up to the chained man, “Who gave you the order to rough up one of my whores?”

“N-No one!” The man yelled. Jake’s face rose into a sinister smirk as he took the knife and dug it straight into the man’s scrotum. The man yelled in pain, loud enough to make the walls vibrate. Bob turned his head, and looked at his shoes, while Rooster couldn’t hold back a small chuckle. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a small scream, covering her mouth quickly.

Jake snapped his head over to the staircase. If his eyes weren’t ready to kill they certainly were now. Jake didn’t even say anything, but Y/N started walking over to him. Jake grabbed her body, pulling it flush against him, holding the same knife he just used against her throat. Jake ghosted his lips over her ear. Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the cool metal against her skin, and the drip of the chained man’s blood ran down her throat.

“You tell me, or I'll slit her throat right here,” Jake said. His voice had seemed to drop an octave, sounding more intimidating. The unknown man, Bob and Rooster all shared a look, not sure of what Jake’s motive was. They all knew they couldn’t kill Y/N, as much as Jake probably wanted to, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t rough her up a bit to teach her a lesson.

“Jake, just let her go-” Bob said, taking a step forward but Jake pressed the knife into her skin, making her let out a gasp.

“Oh no, she decided to come down here and intervene. If this fucker,” Jake nodded towards the chained man, “Really values women as much as he claims too then he won’t let me kill her. So. . . who gave you the order!” His voice was loud and it made Y/N jump in his arms. He could feel her body start to tremble.

“I said, I don’t know!” The man yelled, “Let me go! Let her go! Please!”

Jake pressed the knife down harder, and Y/N gasped feeling the crushing weight of it. She felt her breathing becoming restricted and did her best to not move. Jake wrapped his hand tighter around her midsection to keep her standing. The blade made a slight cut against her tan skin, and she prayed that the poor bastard would confess before she ended up on the ground bleeding out.

“Tell me!” Jake yelled, the veins in his throat popping out, “I swear to fucking god, I’ll kill her.”

The unknown man moved next to Y/N, holding a gun against her temple, “We’re not fucking joking.”

‘So much for possibly having an ally’ she thought to herself.

Y/N closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely. She had always been smart to stay away from Gianni’s torture room. It had taken years of therapy to get over what she had seen him do to Francisco and her own trauma she endured. She felt her body shaking in Jake’s grasp, as her breathing came few and far between. She felt like her body would collapse in dead weight if it wasn’t for Jake’s harsh grip on her body keeping her upright.

“I-I don’t-” The man started as the unknown man cocked the gun, pulling a round into the chamber. He pressed it firmly against her head, as if he was trying to push the barrel into her skin, “F-Fine! It was Soto, Dante Soto! He wanted to get you back for cutting his gun stock and I-”

The man couldn’t finish his sentence as the unknown man shot him in the head. Y/N screamed at the sound. Jake let her go and she collapsed on the ground. Bob moved over to help her, grabbing her arm to lift her up, but Jake held his hand up to stop him.

“Leave her,” He said, wiping off his knife and setting it back on the table.

“Jake-”

“I said, leave her!” Jake yelled again and Bob stepped back from Y/N, “The whore’s gotta learn somehow. Get some guys to clean this shit up. Deliver him on Soto’s front door. Leave a nice little note too.”

All four of them walked past Y/N as she pulled herself into the fetal position and cried. Jake watched her as she sobbed onto the ground, and smirked. He squatted down by her body and ran his hand over her back. The gesture would usually bring comfort to one person, but Y/N felt nothing but fear in it. Her body trembled as she pulled her knees closer to her chest. The smell of blood was starting to make her head spin.

"You're gonna learn not to disobey me someday," Jake whispered to her. He pushed himself off from his squatting position, fixed his suit jacket before walking out of the chamber.

She heard the door slam shut and she couldn’t move. It was like she was reliving her worst nightmare all over again. Francisco was holding her to the ground, repeatedly punching her, kicking her, choking her until there were spots in her vision. Y/N let out a scream that echoed off the walls but fell on deaf ears.

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