Rogues

Episode 39 | Kroni

⚠TW: Manipulation⚠

"Ten,"

Kroni faught against the restraints around his wrists and ankles, trying to shake off the hands that held him down. His breathing was fast and ragged, panic seeping into every aspect of his being.

"Nine,"

He screamed into the mask over his mouth, thrashing about again. The humans around him barely seemed to notice.

"Eight,"

He shook his head again, forcing his eyes to stay open as the anesthetic they were using on him finally started to take effect. He could feel his body relaxing involuntarily and he couldn't stop the helpless wine that escaped him as he faught against it.

"Seven,"

He screamed again, feeling his eyes drifting closed and his mind begging for sleep.

"Six,"

His own subdued growling was all Kroni could hear now. That and the quiet voice of one of the surgeons counting down.

"Five,"

He tryed to shake his head again, tried to wake himself up, but it was no use. He barely had enough energy left to growl anymore.

"Four,"

He could feel his eyes fluttering closed, his body finally laying still.

"Three,"

His thoughts had all abandoned him, replaced by the distant humming of the machines around him.

"Two,"

In seconds, Kroni's consciousness had slipped away, stollen by whoever he'd been taken by.

"One."

Distorted voices. Phantom memories of blades and blood. White lights blinding him when his mind finally caught up enough to let him open his eyes.

And then the pain. The sparking, burning spikes of pain that wracked his whole body. Every nerve was on fire, every atom rearranging itself a thousand times per second.

By the time the screaming started, he'd already thrown himself onto the floor, still not able to connect his mind to the rest of his body well enough to move properly. He clawed at the torturously smooth floor, the sound like nails against metal. His ears rang with the symphony of his own screams, the chattering of the surgeons around him, and the screeching of claws against steel.

He needed something. Something to hold onto, something to keep him steady. He needed an anchor amidst the chaos.

And then the voice came, quiet and smooth like the river that ran along side his home but deep and commanding like his father's voice had been. Kroni could barely make out what was being said to him, but it was firm and comforting, an order to calm down and he drank in the stability it offered. A strong hand stroking gently through his hair and a looming figure at his side was exactly the anchor he'd needed.

Tears stained his cheeks and he could still feel his body begging for the chance to tear the surgeons' throats out with his teeth and watch them all gasp for air that their shredded lungs could no longer offer them.

But, in just a few moments, the screaming had stopped, replaced by quiet purring as he nuzzled desperately into whoever was knelt by his side. A second hand had began stroking his cheek gently, moving in perfect sink with the hand in his hair.