Adrenaline had begun to pump, sweat developed, and his breath shortened just after he'd been stabbed. Eld struggled to speak, but the pain was too distracting, and he couldn't get the words out in any sort of intelligible manner. For all he'd been through, Eld could still be naive in some ways, though. It never occurred to him his captor was waiting for him in order maximize how much pain he put him through.

Just as he caught his breath enough to speak, though, lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the face that, for some reason or another, his mind wasn't allowing him to see. Every time he did, he got flashed of something, but what it meant he had no idea.

By the time he recovered from the mind blanking again, his captor was speaking. Eld's mind spun for several moments before answering--his words contained too much for him to think about at once.

Instead of answering the question, he asked one of his own, "T-Three months? W-Who are you? W-What do you have against me?" It was too strange...the man wasn't asking him anything, didn't say what he wanted...it was as though seeing Eld suffer was all he really wanted. But Eld couldn't think of anything he'd done to warrant that kind of hatred...

"What?" the figure turned his head to the side, "You don't want to be rescued?"

He'd given him a chance, too. Eld could have held his breath, and he would have counted to sixty-- and then, Eld would be released. He'd promised, after all.

But instead, he asked a question. The figure didn't say anything after that, not at first. Not for a few moments. It seemed to boggle his mind. It seemed, for a moment, that he had to think. What Eld might not know was that he was considering the Reaper's level of intelligence--and doubting it significantly.

Without a moment of hesitation, he pulled his right hand out from under his cloak again. Eld wouldn't see it at first, but he'd feel it, within a fraction of a second later, as something would puncture his hip. His aggressor was nearly hovering over him, even. If he were to glance, in the dim light of the oil lantern, he'd see that it was a pair of scissors, jabbed in, puncturing the skin, and twisting slowly.

"You'd rather hurt for knowledge than be healthy in ignorance?" he raised his voice; if necessary, he'd even shout above Eld, "You're no hero-- you're just too stupid to know your limits!"

Eld started to cry out, but bit it back as best he could--why did this hurt so bad? He'd received worse wounds on a regular basis as part of his duties as a Reaper. Was it because he couldn't move? Or was his Qi gone having something to do with it?

"Who...said...I...was...a...he...ro?" he asked, needing to take a breath between each syllable. On top of the stab, his captor was twisting the scissors, causing constant agony to him.

The pair of scissors were withdrawn. It was likely that this would cause as much pain, if not more, than their actual insertion. When something was stuck in a hole in the body, whether or not it was intentionally put there, it blocked air from touching the injury. Once removed, the injury was open to the air. The pain would be seething. It wouldn't stop. It wouldn't be as bad over time, but it wasn't the type of wound to stop hurting until it was treated and properly healed.

His reply was short, and used in a tone that was as seething as Eld's new injury-- angry not at the name he was to declare, but at Eld himself: "Attis."



The scissors were dropped onto the table. He didn't bother organizing them now, nor did he wipe the blood off of the scissors after he was done. He had a towel nearby, on the end of the work bench--stints, too, and even bandages. It seemed he was prepared to treat an injury, if need be. Whether or not it was his own or Eld's was unclear. More than likely, it was the former, in case there were to be an accident.

"If you play dumb one more time, I'm going to hurt you very badly," he declared as he examined his tools--deciding on the next one, it seemed.

Eld let out a hiss of pain as the scissors were removed from his hip, and again the pain prevented an immediate response. Despite being quite a bit of a smaller wound than the knife in his foot, the twisting made the wound arguably worse, not to mention removing the scissors and exposing the wound to air. He hadn't thought such a small wound could hurt so much, comparatively.

Attis. The name brought about another flash of voices and vague vision, chaotic and seemingly random. But even as it passed, he was left with the impression that he should know the name, even if he couldn't place it.

He looked up at his captor in confusion. "W-Who's A-Attis? I-I'll...I'll hold my b-breath," he added quickly, lest he continue to complain about his lack of cooperation.

Fortunately for Eld--or perhaps unfortunately--the man had missed a major artery. He could very well have stabbed just a little closer to Eld's thigh, and he'd have caused the Reaper to bleed to death. But he didn't. Rather, he struck where it could only cause moderate bleeding, significant pain, and a ridiculous inefficiency if Eld were to ever get the chance to walk out of here. More than likely, his left leg simply wouldn't work.

For a moment, the figure didn't say anything. He continued to fish around on the wall for something else. What, it seemed he didn't know just yet. Eld had replied to him unfavorably, though. He claimed not to know anything. That didn't sit well with the man at all, as should be expected. He had, after all, told Eld not to do that.

"Now your survival instincts kick in?" he asked as he took something down from the wall.

Perhaps it had just been a matter of Eld taking him seriously-- and now that he did, he wanted to try and get away from him. Maybe, before this, the Reaper felt that he could have escaped. Either way, Eld had called out for him to make good on his bargain. The figure turned from the work bench to face the Reaper, his arm again inside of his cloak. What he had taken from the wall was unclear.

"All right. Fine. I'll count for you," he paused, and without warning, continued: "Starting now. One . . ."

He didn't answer me. Just as Eld had initially ignored his questions, now he was ignoring Eld's. As the man prepared, Eld watched him carefully. He knew that this was just a trap...the man was going to do something to him while he was holding his breath. That much was obvious. But, just maybe, he could keep from breathing in when he did, and he could get out of this mess.

That was, if he was telling the truth. Even if he succeeded, this man clearly hated him for some reason; would he really just let him go? And what did he intend to do if he failed? He mentioned something about everything he'd wanted to do to him over three months...what all was that? No, that was a stupid question...he knew what the man would do to him, or at least had a pretty good guess. The only question was if the man intended to kill or not when he was done.

Even if he doesn't let me go, all I need is a little break...a little energy, or a little Qi, and I can break out and alert whoever's in the town.

But if he did...well, it was a chance. And so Eld took in a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever the man would do to him.

"Four, five, six . . ."

For a moment, he paced, counting aloud, but doing little to nothing to Eld to suggest that he might try and interrupt him while he's holding his breath. For all intents and purposes, it would seem as if he was cutting him a deal-- showing him mercy.

He might have even been ignoring Eld's question, and the suggestion of ignorance it came with. The suggestion of ignorance was something he had warned Eld against . . .

"Forty two, forty three . . ."

Still he paced, though he often stopped in front of Eld. At fifty-six seconds, he stopped in front of him again, though this time he lingered. And at fifty-eight seconds . . .

"Changed my mind."

The words were swift, but nowhere near as swift as the blow that followed immediately thereafter. With a quick swipe across Eld's face, just above his lower jaw, the figure would berate him in the cheek, right against the teeth, with something hard and metal. It wasn't big, not like a hammer, but it would be painful. It might even bust a tooth or two out-- or loosen one or two enough to hurt tremendously. After all, he put his whole body into the swing . . .

For the first several seconds, Eld looked at his captor in anticipation. He was certain before long, the captor would stab him again or something, to make him draw a breath. He could very well succeed, but Eld was determined to try all the same.

But as the counting continued he turned to confusion. Nothing was happening, and he'd easily go the full minute without some kind of interference. Did he think so little of him as to not expect him to hold his breath that long? Or was this some kind of hidden mercy?

But just when it seemed he was successful, his captor announced his change of heart and nearly simultaneously hit him with something right across the mouth. For what it was worth, he managed to refrain from breathing in for another two seconds, making it a full minute.

Still, the hit dazed him--far more than such a thing should have, had he been at even half of his normal strength. When focus returned to him, he tried to speak, and was mostly successful, though it sounded a bit thicker than usual due to the blow. "W-What...what do y-you want with me?"

As he had put his whole body into the swing, the figure was again nearly on top of Eld, and a little off to the side. The rush of wind caused by the movement knocked his hood up a bit, leaving it half-way drawn back over his head. His facial features could almost be made out. When he stood back, he noticed it, and as if it meant very little hide his face anymore, he reached his right hand up and pushed the hood of his cloak back. This first thing Eld might notice was that, in his right hand, he was holding a pair of pliers.



He stood back from Eld a few feet, the hood of his cloak down behind his head, his face now visible. He was no older than Eld, nor was he any taller. If anything, he was a little shorter than Eld. Though, had Eld not heard him speak, he might have confused him with a girl. The youth had a very feminine face, thin in places like the jaw and neck, with freckles on his cheeks and short, auburn hair stopping short by his cheekbones. It was easy to confuse him with a girl-- and yet, just as easy to look at him and see him as a fifteen year old boy. Even when he spoke, too, his was a voice of ambiguity.

For the moment, it would be painful for Eld to look at his face for any length of time. His body would rebel; he'd twitch and shake, his head would hurt, and static like a poor reception would fill his mind. But nonetheless, he could still get in a few glances.

"I want you to hurt," he replied with the slightest hint of a growl, "And you haven't hurt enough yet."

The pliers indeed caught his attention, but either he lacked the imagination to see what they could be used for, or he was too distracted by what happened next. The force of his swing had caused his hood to fall back a bit, allowing Eld to finally see his captor's face.

Again, though, he got dizzy, his mind clouding as vague impressions washed over him. He wasn't aware of it, but his body shook, as though some part of his brain was actively harmed by looking at him.

He hardly heard what his captor said, instead too startled by a sudden realization: he knew his name, but why or how he knew it was out of his mind's grasp.

"Y-Your name...it's...Milos, i-isn't it? Have we m-met? D-Did I do something to you?" Why was this person familiar? Why did it hurt to look at him? And...why did he bear so much hatred for him?

"You . . . you can't even recall it?"

Milos didn't even raise the pliers to Eld. He left his arm within his cloak, and stared at the Reaper with an absolutely dumbfounded expression. It wasn't as Eld might have thought, though. Eld was making a point, but it wasn't one in his favor.

"Wow. You're . . ." Milos trailed off-- as if he couldn't even think of the words he wanted to say. Nothing just right could come to mind. He was almost completely speechless. "More of a monster than I made you out to be. We were just another day in your life, weren't we?"

Milos didn't do anything to Eld, not yet. He looked to the floor and shook his head. He really was speechless. He could barely wrap his thoughts around it-- how someone could be that thoughtless. In the end, all Milos could do was laugh-- quietly, barely audible, and in no way out of finding something humorous. It was a sad laugh.

Eld was silent at that comment. Had he done something terrible without even realizing? Simply as part of his Reaper duties? But he couldn't recall anything specifically. Perhaps he simply passed on someone Milos knew, maybe that Attis person. Or was there something he was missing...?

"I-I don't k-know. Y-You seem familiar, b-but..." Eld trailed off uncertainly. Something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Instead, he was a bit relieved that Milos had stopped hitting or stabbing him.

If I can keep him talking, and recover a bit of Qi...

"W-When you say 'we,' do you mean...A-Attis?" He was fairly certain that was the name he'd mentioned earlier, the one that also seemed familiar. "D-Did I do something t-to you two?"

Milos snapped at him instantly: "To just us two?!"

His expression flared with anger. Indeed, torturing Eld wasn't enjoyable, and judging by his tone throughout it prior, he likely wasn't enjoying it from the start. When a man beat a dog for disobeying or doing something otherwise terrible, he didn't feel satisfied by beating the dog, but he knew--or felt, deep down inside, that it was necessary.

"Just shut up," Milos growled. He had an ambiguous voice, but when he seemed much, much more masculine when enraged-- and intimidating. True, genuine, murderous rage-- despite the fact that he seemed to refuse to curse, "Just shut the heck up you-- you heartless bastard!"

Milos swung his arm out, but not to hit Eld. Rather, to toss the pliers back. They hit the workbench and bounced, stirring the other tools on it-- but it didn't matter to him at the moment. What mattered was Eld, and the fact that he didn't have an adequate amount of injuries to his face. Without even a moment of thought, the youth lunged forward, and with his right hand, threw a stiff-arm jab at Eld's cheek. It would feel like being hit in the cheekbone by a cement block. It wasn't thrown with any significant power behind it, yet a rubber ball hitting someone at ten miles and hour and a cement block hitting someone at ten miles an hour boasted a significant difference in damage and pain.

If Eld hadn't seen the punch coming he would never had thought he was punched. It didn't feel like any punch he'd ever taken--it felt more like someone swung a brick at him. His head jerked to the side and his vision reeled; he coughed and spit out blood--and a single tooth--as he recovered from it.

"Y-You call m-me heartless, and m-monster," he replied after a moment, "b-but I'm sure I n-never chained s-someone to a chair and b-beat them."

He couldn't be sure what he did to enrage Milos so much, but while he considered himself far from a saint, he'd never do anything like torture. He could only assume he did something as part of his regular Reaper duties. It wouldn't be far-fetched...not many people were fond of the Dirige.