Panoptic

Panoptic - Chapter 15

A punch rocked his head, blurred his vision, and brought stinging tears to his eyes. It tore the old wound, and blood ran down his face. But it did bring him back.

"I remember," he said, and the satisfaction of recall overwhelmed pain, fear, and even the fury that grew on him. "I remember it was you, Typhoon."

The dark figure laughed. A vague movement of shadows told Soro he was rubbing his knuckles. "Then you must realise you've run out of time. Dear fellow, I didn't mean for it to end this way. Cooperate now and we may allow you to live."

"May allow me to live. Hell! You can't kill me, you sonofabitch. You need me to front your panoptic con."

Typhoon shrugged. It was getting easier to make out his shape and movements, even against the painful brilliance of the halogen lamps. "Alive or dead, you will serve. You haven't seen your brother in a month and more. You don't know if he's breathing, and he still served."

Soro groaned.

"Your pretty little girl? You don't have a shadow of a clue where she is, or even if she is."

The words struck him like a physical blow in the solar plexus. His lungs seized up, and he gasped for air that wouldn't come. It was too much. He sank to his knees, the chatter of the chains a mocking song.

Typhoon leered down at him, and laughed.

He heard a scratching, scuffling noise from off to his right.

Typhoon turned, and his profile showed black against the light. He frowned into shadow, and then his features twisted in shock. A small dark blur scurried along the floor, and flew at his face.

Typhoon shrieked as the rushing shadow made contact.

Soro strained to join the attack, to aid his brave companion, but the chains held him down. All he could do was watch, eyes narrowed against the painful glare, to watch, and hope.

Typhoon whirled around, screaming as the monkey clawed the scratches on his face. Blood splashed from his wounds. Typhoon snarled, grabbed the animal with both hands, and tore him away from his face. He paid for it with agony, for he howled, and more blood ran down his abnormal features, but he looked too furious to submit to the pain. He raised Squiz high overhead. He saw a tiny glint of light against the monkey's silhouette.

"No," said Soro. "No!"

Typhoon flung the monkey down on the floor. He hit it with a soft thud, accompanied by a tiny snapping sound.

Every muscle in Soro's body tensed, so hard he couldn't breathe, so hard felt he would burst. At the same time nausea rose in his stomach, swept up through his chest, through his pounding heart, and into his brain. The brilliant light faded into shadows, shadows with sickening, loathsome shapes, his strength drained out of him, and he slumped to the floor.

The world drained away from him and he fell into a pit of dark, creeping shadows, his body agony, his heart anguish.

As from a tremendous distance, that hateful voice came to him. "I'll do the same to the girl, Soro. And when your use is exhausted, I'll do it to you."

...

He sank through seas, an ocean of darkness. He fell through a chilling void. It soaked him in the sound of his name.

Through the darkness shone a star, faint and distant, dimmer than a candle at midday, and yet it shone. Fainter than cotton wool against a cloud, and yet it shone. Weaker than Soro himself, if anything could be, and still it glimmered.

The star called him.

And he answered.

He fought to rise from the depths of pain, sick horror and despair. He struggled to move though the air itself weighed on him like a lead blanket. The slightest shift of his body sent waves of nausea through his gut. His arms and legs trembled, and a black cloud obscured his vision.