Octonauts

Part 8

"So, this is the one?" Nathan smiles, making eye contact with Kwazii and sending noticeable shivers down his spine.

"Yes sir." He looks at Nathan, putting his shaking hands in his pockets.

"You may leave, your deal is met."

Kwazii leaves, his posture slightly straighter, less fearful. Plain relief on his face. Peso begins to follow but is stopped by the guard.

"Wh- Kwazii!" he calls.

Kwazii turns, looking at Peso. "I- I'm sorry." He frowns, unsure of what to say, before departing. As he leaves, Peso hears mutters. "I'm sorry... sorry, sorry..."

Peso faces back towards the man.

"Nathan." He introduces himself, "You?"

"Peso." His eyebrow twitches. Still unsure what made Kwazii so scared.

"So, you know why you're here?" Nathan asks in a gloating tone.

"No."

"No?" he smirks.

"I don't know why I can't leave." Peso states, exasperated.

"Well, your friend there, he made me an agreement, a deal."

Peso looks at him confused. "What deal?"

"He agreed to bring me someone. In exchange for his life." Nathan explains. "Since he was so adamant about not being near me, I wanted to give him a little... encouragement. So someone else could take his place."

"I thought he didn't fear death. I almost shot him, and he didn't care." Peso tries to convince himself why Kwazii would so willingly hand someone over to Nathan.

"Oh, he may not be scared of death, but he's scared of me."

"Why?" he shrinks, afraid of the answer.

"Let's find out, shall we?" he says, sneering. "John, get the syringe."

"Oh-oh shit."

"Ha, it's not what you think. Only a little injection." He laughs.

Peso gulps. Backing into the corner, Peso holds out his hands. The man, who can be identified as John, grabs his shoulders. Since peso is of such small stature, he can't move against John's beefy arms. Nathan grasps the syringe in his right hand. The left half of his mouth lifting in a sort of grin. He presses the needle into Peso's arm. Injecting something into the nook of his elbow.

Peso inhales through his teeth, crushing his nails into his palm. "What did you give me?" he says, his voice is slurred. His pupils growing, he relaxes, stumbling forwards.

"Nothing much." Nathan nods at John.

John pulls out a blade, passing it to Nathan. "Here."

"Thank you, John." He grabs the knife, holding it tightly in his hand. "It'll set in about now."

Peso's eyes open wide, looking at Nathan as if the man were the devil himself. He clutches his arms into his chest, every one of his muscles tightening, flexing.

He opens his mouth to scream, but only a quiet choking sound escapes his lips. Nathan smiles at him, exposing white teeth.

"Stop it!" Peso begs, falling to the floor. Gasping, his choked screams return. "Please."

"Now." Nathan orders, watching John grab Peso. He reaches over, slicing quickly into Peso's wrist.

Peso clutches the bloody gash. "Help!" He stares as the burning agony of the chemical leaks slowly from his wrist.

"AARGH!" he gurgles as Nathan pulls out a small bottle of bleach, laughing as it drips onto his hand.

"Ha. This is fun, is it not?" Nathan is smiling ecstatically. "Take his shirt off."

Peso doesn't struggle, feeling lightheaded as the guards pull the heavily bloodied shirt off his thin, pale body. They push him downwards, holding his shoulders to the cold floor.

"M- make it quick." Peso whispers, pleading.

"HA! No."

Nathan kneels, flexing his fingers as he grabs the knife. His face loses its expression, blank as he pushes the blade into the collarbone.

Peso lays, pressed to be still, the pain is nothing compared to what he felt before. Compared to the raging fire he felt in his veins. He deserves it. After what he did, he deserves it all.

If emotions and thoughts were displayed in looks, the disgusting, gnarled monster of Peso's mind would be the embodiment of loathing, rage, and confusion. It would drip with anguish, burn with the brightness of the stars, cry with all the desolation of the last man on earth. Melting itself away with salty streams of grief.

He writhes in pained silence, attempting to scream as Nathan cuts open his skin, stopping before he damages muscle. Nathan grins. Aiming the slices so that the least blood possible will come out.

Nathan pokes his dirty fingernails into the laceration, this time Peso lets out a piercing howl.

"Oh, did that hurt?" Nathan asks sarcastically, "I didn't notice." He expertly pulls at the skin around the wound.

"Do it already." Peso mutters, his blood splattered face contorting in immense pain.

"What was that?" Nathan asks, "I can't hear you!" he stretches the word, again using many years of practice to drag out the experience for himself.

Peso passes out, the pain becoming too much to bear. He swings in a vertigo inducing way into a deep dream.

Nathan is a sadist if you didn't notice. He's a sick bastard. He deserves to rot in Hell. But what if Peso goes to Hell too?