♪ Quaritch
by James Horner ♪
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Chapter Thirty:
Like A PrisonerThe world returned to me in fragments—blurred images, muffled sounds, and a dull ache coursing through my veins. My head throbbed as if a heavy blow had struck me, and every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I tried to move.
Chains. Cold, unyielding, and tight against my skin, but this time, clasping my wrists, my upper arms, my chest, my neck, my thighs, and my ankles. Leaving no option but to sit on the floor in a single posture.
I blinked hard, forcing my vision to focus. I was in some cell, the walls metallic and sterile, glowing faintly with a dim light in the darkroom that made my head pound even more. My body was bound, the chains tethering me to the floor, and I could feel the residue of whatever poison they'd shot into me still lingering in my system, dulling my strength.
The sound of footsteps outside the door snapped me out of my thoughts. My instincts flared, and I straightened as much as my battered body allowed, a slight tension rippling through me despite the weight of exhaustion for what was about to come next.
The door slid open with a low, mechanical hiss, the sound sharp against the oppressive silence. A guard stepped in. His helmet hid his face, but the cold, calculating intensity of his gaze was unmistakable. It pressed against me like an unspoken threat, heavy and unrelenting.
A human in a lab coat followed close behind, their every movement precise, and clinical with an oxygen mask on their face. The faint smell of antiseptic wafted in as they entered, mixing with the metallic tang of the room. And behind her was Mercer, his hands clasped behind his back as always, his expression unreadable. The room was switched with bright light, making my eyes scrunch.
"How's the toxin treating you?" Mercer asked casually as if we were old acquaintances. "Still fighting it, I see. Admirable, but futile."
He laughed slightly.
"I've been waiting for you to wake," he said, his tone almost mocking. "I was beginning to think the dosage was too much for you. But no, you're as stubborn as I suspected."
I glared at him, refusing to answer.
Mercer took a step closer, tilting his head slightly. "You're wondering what's next, aren't you? What we plan to do with you."
I didn't respond, my jaw tightening.
"Well, since you're so curious," Mercer continued, his voice dripping with mock kindness, "let me give you a preview. We're going to use you, Neteyam. As leverage. As bait. And eventually, as proof that even the mightiest warriors of the Na'vi can be broken."
"You know nothing about us," I said, my voice low and filled with venom. Hearing my name through his disgusting mouth made me nauseous.
Mercer smiled thinly. "Oh, I know more than you think. Your people are resilient, yes. Stubborn, even. But everyone has a breaking point. Even you."
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