A/N So I ended up finding this little snippet inside my Notebook of Noteworthy Notes earlier today. I wrote it quite a while ago, with a much, much longer story in mind, although now, unfortunately, I don't remember anything about the plans I had for it. I may eventually pick it up again and write something for it because I do like the idea, but it might not be for a while.

Anyways, I hope it is enjoyed, despite the pathetic length. It's definitely more of a drabble than a one-shot.

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Ben 10 or its characters.

The blade pressed up near his chin. "Think long and hard about your answer," his assailant growled, "and then tell me where Ben Tennyson is."

"Not here," Rook seethed. With his free hand, he reached for his communicator, pressing the button. If he could just get a signal back to HQ…

"That's unfortunate," his attacker said with mock empathy. "If he were here, maybe he could have saved you."

The knife slid gently across his throat in a menacing gesture and Rook felt his breath catch in his throat. He tried to move back, to get away from the blade, but there was nowhere to go. He was up against a wall.

He tried not to think about what would happen if the hand holding the knife slipped… or if anymore pressure was applied. The knife travels all the way across his throat before being held beneath his ear. The tip dug in, making a shallow cut, and Rook winces as a small amount of blood trickles down the side of his neck.

Then it's taken away completely and Rook feels his shoulders slump in relief. He hadn't even realized he had tensed up. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the knife being drawn back and automatically flinches, expecting at any moment to feel it plunging between the plates of his armor and into his side or into his exposed neck.

The knife flashed forward, but instead of the pain he was expecting, there's a spark of ruined machinery as his communicator is pinned to the wall behind him.

Rook barely had time to register what had happened before his attacker had both hands on his shoulders, slamming him against the wall with enough force that his vision momentarily went black.

"It really is a pity," he snarled, fury etched on every line of his features, "but you will lead me to him whether you intend to or not."