Blood streamed off his body like water from a shower, the bat cam round again, swish and thud solid but empty, they were avoiding shots to the head, going only for his torso, keeping him alive... just.
The damp dark room rang out with the sound of a gunshot, searing pain in his left leg. The chair his body was strapped to splinter and shattered under the pressure of the gunshot. They’d used bandages to strap him to the chair figuring moisture would really only make it harder, they were right, it was hard enough to shatter from a heavy impact, an impact like that of a body and the ground. He was free. Another swish... a clapping sound... a powerful hand on the bat. He span round swiping two of his opponents with the handle of the bat, the sickening crunch that the connection of bone and concrete makes. Another gunshot, this one to the shoulder, ripping through flesh, bone and sinew. The bullet went clean through and hit the third man in the chest puncturing his lung. The last man... the man with the gun, he shot again this one missed by barely an inch and in this moment Liam Davis pounced, he threw his whole body weight on his tormentor, pinned him down with the bat at his throat and pounded the mans face with his fist, thwack, thwack, thwack, the dull ambience of retribution ringed out into the rest of the stronghold in which he was kept.
Liam picked up the gun, a colt 9mm there were three bullets left in the magazine, he emptied one into the lock on the door, he walked forward into the hall, heard running and shouts from the nearby hallway and emptied the last two into his oncoming assailants and snapped a high kick to the throat to off the third.