Blacklist: The Outer Reaches

One: Good People Gone

One

Good People Gone

Present Day

Xavier Brooks had reached the end of his rope. He didn't have anything left.

He had never felt this way before. The world had begun to fade as the last strands of life slipped between his fingers.

The weight of the entire universe seemed to be slamming into him all at once, yet he felt distant from his body, a passive bystander to the chaotic turmoil of his overloaded senses. It was in that moment that he knew that he was broken, and a sudden realization hit him hard.

This was how it felt to die. It had to be.

Lights danced before him as his oxygen-starved body crept towards its breaking point. He opened his mouth to breathe, but no air came forth, just more salty, oily water.

The water surrounding his face was ice cold, leaving his face numb, chilling him beneath the bone, grabbing him and refusing to let go. He couldn't move. He could barely think.

This was it. This was the end.

He was going to drown.

The shock of that thought hit him and his shoulders and arms began to quiver uncontrollably. Every cell inside of him begged for the sweet release of death and fire burned in his lungs.

His conscious mind was overcome with the need to breathe. To fight back against the depths of despair that called to him. But his body had done too much. His energy had been expelled. He needed a release.

He needed air.

And it was that moment that they gave it to him.

Xavier's eyes shot wide and he screamed, letting out an animalistic noise as strong hands grabbed him by the neck and pulled his face above the water's surface. Breaths came in long, hungry mouthfuls, the tears mixing with the filthy river water as streams of fluid coursed down his face, his bare chest, his back.

Xavier gulped the air down between gritted teeth, soaking up as much as he could. The world spun around him and he was disoriented. He had no idea what was going on, where he was. All he knew was he had oxygen, that he could breath.

Baby steps. He was alive.

But his respite wouldn't last for long.

"Does this look like the guy?" said a voice. "The guy that took off with Mario's stash?"

"Don't know, but we can't be too careful. We better double check."

"You're right. Give him some more."

No. Not again.

A firm hand was placed on the back of Xavier's neck and he was forced down beneath the water, mid-breath.

He could hear voices shouting at him as the water swirled around his face, but their words meant nothing to him from the other side.

There was nothing he could do. So he opened his mouth and screamed but that did nothing but fill his lungs with another mouthful of the cold, salty water. His arms couldn't move, he could barely see, could barely feel.

They kept him under longer that time, pushed him even closer to his breaking point. But no matter no much he yelled, no matter how much he struggled, they refused to let go. This was madness. This was inhuman.

This was torture.

After three minutes that felt like hours, Xavier's head was lifted from the pool of water and he was thrown onto his back, landing onto some hard, flat surface. A bright light was shone into his face and something hard and metallic was pressed against his temple.