Authors: Stuart Meczes
Gabriella
Pain. So much pain.
I tried to move, but it was as if the connection between my body and mind had been severed. All I knew was absolute, unceasing agony. It tore through every part of me - every muscle fiber, every bone, every patch of skin, throbbing and screaming in protest as my immune system fought against the deadly toxin that had worked its way into my system.
I couldn’t even scream.
My eyes managed to part slightly and through blurred vision all I could see was the high stone arches of a dimly lit corridor that was thick with dust and grime. It swept past me at a steady speed and it took me a moment to understand that I was being moved on something. The incessant squeaking of a rusted wheel revealed that I was lying on some kind of mobile stretcher.
Voices around me. Gruff…unfamiliar. I tried to see who they belonged to, but my head wouldn’t move. My tenuous grip on consciousness slipped away.
Darkness.
The pain woke me once more at some unknown point. I was still being wheeled on the stretcher, but now the area was bathed in an orange glow that came from flaming torches clutched in wall mounted candelabras that looked like burned skeletal arms. My stomach lurched when I realised they
were
arms, burned to blackened bone.
My thoughts were slow and vague – hiding behind the thick fog that came with a bad concussion.
God, where am I? Where are the others?
A stab of pain came from my stomach and instinctively I reached for it, realising that my hand was
working
. It pressed against an open wound and I felt the warm flow of blood pour between my fingers. Panic rushed through me and I tried to sit up. The slender rust-coloured face and red eyes of a Lamiae came into view before a rough hand shoved my forehead back down, slamming me back into the hard stretcher.
A harsh voice came from beyond me.
“Show her what happens if she struggles.”
Something pressed into the wound on my stomach – a thumb or the crude handle of a small weapon. My mouth parted into a silent scream as unimaginable pain surged through me and I retched – vomit that was a grainy mix of bile and blood spilling over my lips. The Lamiae spun whatever they had stuck inside me around – digging it deep into the folds of my intestines. I started to convulse from the sheer agony and an inhuman, strangled sound escaped from my throat. Out of pure preservation my body pulled me back into unconsciousness, and the last thing I heard was the sneering laughs of my captors.
Rough hands tugged at my body, bringing me around once again. Every muscle screamed in protest as I was hoisted from the mobile stretcher and dumped down onto cold, hard stone. My head lolled to the side and through bleary vision I saw that I was in some kind of sinister operating theatre. As I took in my surrounding, my heart started to thump in pure fear.
No...oh god no…
The preserved remains of a dozen different species were attached to wire structures, their bodies paused in various stages of anatomical autopsy – flesh peeled back and pinned down to reveal organs and nervous systems. There were Elves, Pixies, Skinshifters, Merfolk, and even some Umbra species – including an Oni and the uppermost section of a vast Troll, hanging from a wire support and half of its face disassembled to a smooth skull. Dotted between them were dozens of shelves filled with various sized jars of brine, and floating inside were all manner of organs. The whole area stunk of chemicals and embalming fluid. As the true horror of my situation hit me, for the first time in a long time, I was completely and utterly terrified.
“Let me go!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, but my voice came out as a hoarse whisper. One of the Lamiae who had wheeled me in came around the side of the table, so he was standing in front of me. He wore carmine-coloured armour, the metal covered in symbols and spike details, and finished with a sweeping black cape. The style of the armour reminded me of The Sorrow’s, which had the effect of doubling my fear. The Lamiae leaned over so that his dark face was close to mine, and pressed his pointed ear close to my face.
“What was that you said, my sweet?” he said in a mocking tone.
I clamped his ear between my teeth, biting down until I could feel his sour blood seeping down my throat. I jerked my head in the opposite direction and took a massive chunk of his ear with me, spitting it out onto the table. His scream filled the operating theatre. A fist flashed from somewhere above and slammed hard into my jaw, sending a shockwave sweeping through my skull and surging me dangerously close to unconsciousness. The Lamiae I had bitten was yelling and covering his ear as black blood seeped down the side of his face. He withdrew a curved black blade from a holster and raised it up, but the same hand that had hit me seized his hand and shoved him backwards.
“She bit my ear off!” he roared. “I’m going to carve her eyes out!” He was so incensed he’d switched to Th’ail – the Monist Umbra language spoken by the lower-ranking members of the Demon species.
“She wants her in once piece until the Physicker does his examination and assesses her likelihood of survival. Otherwise what was the point of taking her?” hissed the other Lamiae. “You got what you deserved for being so foolish. She is a Chosen, what did you expect she would do?”
The guard let out a growl of anger. “I’m going to do
something
to the whore.”
“Well she has a lovely open wound on her shoulder. I should imagine digging a knife around in there a bit wouldn’t do
too
much damage.”
The Lamiae gave a dark smile.
“If you do anything to the specimen, then I shall report you immediately,” said a thin reedy voice from the entrance. “I can’t imagine that she will be too pleased you went against her orders.”
There was silence.
“That’s what I thought.”
I tried to turn my head to see the new arrival but the vicious punch had stolen the last of my energy.
“Garamore, collect your ear and take it outside with you. I will reattach it later. The rest of you, restrain her for the preparation.”
Rough hands were on me again. I tried to struggle, but it was pointless – I was far too weak. My head was pinned down and held fast as a leather strap was secured over my forehead, holding me in place. The same bindings secured my arms and feet, until I couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction. I was then I knew that I wouldn’t escape and that whatever they were going to do to me, I would be forced to endure. Tears spilled down my cheeks.
Alex, where are you?
“Has she been sedated yet?”
“Not yet.”
The new arrival gave a snort of dissatisfaction. “Do you share a single brain cell between any of you? No wonder she was fighting back.” I heard shuffling feet and then the rummaging of metal tools as the man searched for something. “All I ask for is a modicum of common sense.” He started muttering to himself, too quiet to hear. After a moment he said, “Ah yes, here we are.”
A hunched figure appeared over me. He was a malformed thing with a long face and a jaw that twisted to one side. He wore thick, dirty spectacles that magnified luminous yellow eyes. They were weeping, leaving some thick encrusted grime around the tear ducts. I couldn’t tell what species he was, and I didn’t care. All I cared about was the five-inch long syringe he was holding. He pressed a clammy, foul smelling hand on my head and forced it to one side, jamming the needle deep into my neck. Ice swept through my veins, followed by thick grogginess that replaced my pain with manufactured lethargy.
“There, she is nicely sedated now. That should prevent any more…situations.” He turned his head to the side and held out a hand. “Pass me the scissors.”
I watched through dulled vision as his quick hands went to work, cutting through my uniform until it was shreds on the table. Then he cut through my bra and knickers, pulling them away with harsh movements. My flesh crawled from the humiliation and fear of being laid so bare and exposed in front of these horrible creatures. The surgeon’s blurring image stared down at me, analyzing every inch of my body.
“Mmmm, a good specimen,” he said with a crooked smile. “Visually attractive, but also strong and toned for a female of the species. She should fare quite well…. if she survives. Our leader removed the Banshee Bullets, but the infection had spread quite far already. Let’s see if it’s worth keeping her alive or whether we should put this poor creature out of her misery.” He gave a simpering chuckle. “I do hope it’s the latter. I could use a new project.”
I faded in and out of consciousness as the surgeon’s sharp tools pierced my skin. There was sedation but no true painkillers, so I felt every agonising moment as he scraped away at my flesh, removing the infection. Every now and then he asked the guards for various tools. He scrambled around my body like a spider, injecting, scraping and tugging at parts of my body until it felt like there would be none of me left.
At one point I came around to the sensation of being rolled over onto my front – presumably so the surgeon could get at the exit wound for the Banshee Bullet that had gone right through me. He drew in a sharp breath. “Now would you look at those patches of skin! I have never seen this before.” He let out a gleeful sound. “I think we have some kind of hybrid here. Hand me the scalpel.”
A rush of air that couldn’t evolve into a scream slipped from my lips as the surgeon carved a large section of my Umbra skin from my back and carefully peeled it away from my body. “Such a unique section of epidermis. Not unlike that of a Succubus wing. Someone fetch me a petri dish. I want to go further and collect the adipose layer.”
His blade dug deeper and I blacked out.
A sharp throbbing pain at the top of my head woke me. I was lying on my back again, and I could hear a series of long scratching sounds, followed by flashes of intense pain as something raked against my scalp. Warm blood poured down my forehead and pooled in my eyes. They burned like fire when I tried to open them – and I could barely see anything from between them. Desperation and fear filled me up.
I can’t take much more of this.
Something black appeared in the tiny space of my parted eyelids and then tickled my nose as it brushed against it. The surgeon slapped the object away, catching my face with his sharp nails. More of it fell over my face and into the table and after a while my straining, punished mind realised what was happening to me.
They are shaving my head.
More tears spilled down my cheeks and I closed my eyes, willing it all to be over.
*
A harsh pain in the side of my arm woke me. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but I could sense that I was finally alone. The intense throbbing in my arm continued, and with considerable effort I pressed a hand against it. I could feel a small surgical wound there – held together by several tiny stitches. It was new – not something I’d sustained in the battle in Fenodara, but something added later, no doubt by the hands of that
bastardo
surgeon. I also felt something heavy on my wrists. I touched my hand against them and cold metal brushed against my fingertips.
Adamantine handcuffs.
I parted my eyelids and was met with complete darkness. Utter panic flushed through me and I let out a stifled scream.
He took my eyes!
I touched my hands to my eyes and almost wept with relief when I felt that they were still there. It was only when I twisted my neck around as much as the chain would allow that I caught the faint flicker of a distant torch through thick bars.
I’m in a very, very dark cell.
Moving my hands gingerly around the rest of my body, I explored the cuts and bruises that the evil surgeon had given me. My fingers finished at the top of my head, feeling the rough surface of my shaved scalp and the dried blood of razor cuts.
I allowed myself to cry.
It was intense. I cradled my wounded, abused body against the wall and rocked myself as the tears flowed down my face and I let out agonized sobs. I cried for the fear of not knowing where I was, or how I’d come to be there. I cried for my friends, who for all I knew were dead at the hands of Hades’s forces, or undergoing the same humiliating abuse. But mostly, I cried for Alex, for not knowing where he was, and how he must be feeling, knowing that I had been taken away from him and hidden somewhere in an hostile alien world that had evolved to become the perfect nightmare for anyone trying to traverse it.
Stop now Gabriella. Stop.
My words halted the tears as suddenly as they had started. They were useless. Tears wouldn’t help me find a way out of the hellhole I’d landed in.
Tears wouldn’t get me back to Alex.
Alex
We all stood in Aegis’ strategy room inside the Needle, staring down at a glass table that currently displayed an electronic map of Pandemonia on its surface. The room was heavily fortified – just like the building itself – held deep behind three sets of electronically controlled adamantine doors and filled with heavily armed Lightwardens. How anyone had managed to break in was completely beyond me.