Jones' Torture

Sgt. Rodgers stands on the rocks and cheers at the grisly sight with a few of her soldiers. Some laugh and comment how they wish they brought popcorn. They remain standing, watching the flaming wreckage until a soldier whispers in Sgt Rodgers' ear. She bends down and pulls out a large buck knife out of her boot. She marches toward Jones, knife held high in the air with a devilish grin on her face. Jones struggles to escape , but it is no use. He is too weak and the ropes are too tight. "What are you doing?" He shouts in panic. Sgt. Rodgers doesn't respond. She continues to walk toward him. "Don't kill me." He pleads. "I won't." She says, now less than a foot in front of him. "You won't?" Sgt. Rodgers forcefully grabs his pinky finger. "What are you doing?" He asks again. Sgt. Rodgers slides the blade along the side of his finger. "You don't need this." She replies. "Yes I do!" She makes a cut at the base of his finger. It isn't deep, but it causes him to wince none the less. "I know stuff. I know things." He says, nervously. "What could you possibly know?" "You left him." "What?" "Or at least I assume you did. He's not here. You know who I'm talking about? He was with the girl that you just blew up." Sgt. Rodgers' eyes open wide. In her dogged pursuit of destroying Olivia she seemingly forgot me. "I'm right? Aren't I?" Jones asks. Anger washes  over Sgt. Rogers' brief shocked and surprised expression. Her eyes become cold and mean. She jabs the knife deep into Jones' thigh. Jones lets out a scream. Sgt. Rodgers turns to her men. "Patrick! Tend to this man's wounds. As for everyone else... we're going back to the tree houses."