//------------------------------// // Chapter Seventeen: The Bogeyman // Story: The Titans' Orb // by Mister Horncastle //------------------------------// I awoke on my side with my head absolutely pounding; each heartbeat brought forth an agonising thud to my temples, and it didn't take long before I was beset with dizziness and nausea. My eyes slowly flickered open, only to find that my vision was far too blurry to see anything but colours and shapes. I slowly put a hand to my head and felt dry blood, all down one side of my face, which broke into fine flakes and fell away as soon as I touched it, implying that it had been there for a while. {How long have I been here?} I thought to myself, groaning. Attempting to sit up brought a sharp pain into both my left thigh and upper left arm; the pain was almost unbearable, and I flopped back down. Carefully using my right hand, I combed over the injuries to find that they were wrapped in bandages, both heavily saturated with more old blood. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself up once more and removed the dressing from my arm, in which I found that the wound had been crudely cauterised, and the bullet had been removed; for whatever reason, my captors had chosen to keep me alive. After spending some time properly regaining my senses, I looked around to see that I was in a small, dark, and uncomfortably damp room; my ankles were chained together, as were my wrists, and as my mind began to clear, I began to think of the girls. Did they get away? Are they now deep within the jungle, on their way to the first piece of the Orb? Were they coming back for me? Had they been caught? Were they chained up in a room similar to this one? Were they dead!? I shuddered as I pictured their lifeless bodies, huddled somewhere in this godforsaken place. Perhaps they were being cut apart and studied by curious minds? Or being diced up and eaten by hungry mouths, uncaring to their otherworldly forms? Clamping my eyes shut and casting such horrible visions aside, I prayed that they had been able to escape, and were far, far away from this place. Just as I was attempting to get to my feet, the door to the room was opened, and two men looked down at me, the first was some scrawny looking fellow, with more hair on his patchy chin than he did atop his head; the other man was almost twice his size, in both height and width. “Walk, now.” the second man ordered. His voice was low and smooth, with a thick Russian accent. I hesitated for a second too long, and he reached forward to grab a fistful of my hair, and pulled me out of the room. After taking just two steps, the pain in my thigh was too much and I dropped to one knee. Unamused, the Russian grabbed my hair yet again and forcefully lifted me back to my feet; try as I might, I mewled pathetically from the pain, as I was half-walked and half-dragged to wherever they wanted me to be. I was brought through a series of corridors and rooms, and within each, I saw a great plethora of people, drinking, gambling, fighting, and packaging narcotics; they all wore red and black clothing too, like some sort of uniform. There was a clear majority in Brazilian members, but I also noticed a great many paler men, and Middle Easterners too, meaning they recruited people from all around the world. This really was a cartel, and a big one too. The scrawny man went his own way, leaving the Russian to bring me to a large hall-like chamber, where he finally released me in the centre of the room, I crumpled to the ground and the pain in my thigh shot up through me, causing me to squint my eyes and roll to one side, groaning miserably to myself. “Chop chop, string him up.” a voice commanded. I immediately recognised the Hispanic accent, and opened my eyes to see the man who had knocked me out, the supposed leader of this cesspool. The black tattooed skull on his chest glared at me just as intently as he did, and he smiled cheerily as his broad henchman squatted down and tethered a rope to the chains on my wrists. I didn't have it in me to struggle, I just drearily watched as he finished binding the rope to me, and then went over to some sort of pulley system, which he began to operate. My arms were forcefully raised above my head and I was hoisted upwards to my feet, causing me to loudly shout out in agony. “Please! Let me down!” I whimpered, barely able to handle the pain. “I thought I wasn't going to hear you beg?” the leader cackled. He started to circle me like a vulture, inspecting me as I tried to compose myself; he then came right up to me and sniffed my face, before giving my cheek a lick, tasting my sweat. His eyes were black as night, animalistic and full of madness. “Who the hell are you?” I breathed shakily. “That's my question, hermano.” Without warning, he slapped me in the face with the back of his hand, which brought me fully to my senses, and adrenaline started to course through me once again. The Russian hoisted me even higher until I could only just stand on my toes, and the man in charge began to explain exactly why I was still alive. “So, there I was, tying up some loose ends with someone who thought he could fuck me over. When out of nowhere, me and my boys get surrounded by some crazy voodoo smoke, and we start hearing shit that ain't really there, I'm talking some real hocus pocus stuff, you know? My guys freak out, start shooting at stuff, real mass hysteria.” Pressing his body up against mine, he started trailing circles on my chest with his index finger. “When it went away, we found one of my guys dead, without his gun, and this is where it gets real interesting. You see, two of my boys tell me that they just spotted some white kid run away into a nearby alley. But my boy Miguel, now he says, that this kid ain't alone, that he was in the company, of some sort of creature...” Gulping, I began to grind my jaw as he described Twilight's appearance to me, and I realised that they had seen us right from the start, before we had even made it across the first goddamn street. “Now, I thought Miguel was crazy, so, I shot him. But then, over the radio waves, some of my spotters tell me, 'Hey boss, we've just seen some white boy, sneaking through the streets, and he's got some weird horse things with him, and they can talk!'. That's when I realised that poor little Miguel wasn't crazy, and that right here in my kingdom, there's a jumped up white boy running around, with not one, but six of these things!” Dipping my head, I had to fight the urge to break into tears. I hadn't been able to sneak through at all, they'd been onto me right from the get-go; it had only been a matter of time until they found us, and my stunt with the UMP to clear the street had brought them straight to us. This was my fault, this was all my fault... “So then I start thinking to myself...” the leader continued, “If there are six talking horses with this boy, maybe there are more out there, you know? Maybe, I've got some new product to sell. So I give the order, 'Let's go get 'em, and get the boy alive if you can!', and well, here you are.” He slapped my cheeks a few times, before aggressively pressing his forehead up against mine, as though he were trying to physically enter my mind with his own. “So to you I ask hermano, who the hell are you? What are the talking horse creatures? And where do they come from?” My jaw quivered with fear, and my eyes were full of tears, but just as before, I faced him with dignity and vigilance. “I'm not your fucking hermano.” I growled. “That's a subjective, philosophical, point of fucking view. Now answer the damn question.” he replied rolling his eyes. “I'm a nameless dead man, mate.” I retorted, “About as good to you as a knitted condom. You should have left me to die in that sewer, so if you are actually going to kill me, get on with it.” Bursting into laughter, the man stepped back and guffawed loudly to himself, before lunging forward once again and punching me square in the jaw; I swung sideways and twisted around to face the other way. And that's when I saw them. “No…” I gasped. From six rusty animal cages, no taller than three feet, all six ponies were slumped in miserable heaps, helplessly staring at me with absolute horror and hopelessness. Even from as far away as I was, I could tell they had been mistreated; Applejack had bruises on her face from an evident struggle, and I couldn't even see the whites of Rainbow Dash's eyes, as they were so bloodshot. Every one of them was covered in dirt, and from the most dimly lit cage, Twilight glowered at me intensely; there was no doubt that she blamed me for this fate, and she had every right to do so. Zipping up to me from behind, the leader wrapped his arms around my neck in an affectionate manner, sighing dreamily as he looked at his outlandish quarry. From deep within me, a rage unlike any other began to brew, it was a focused rage of nuclear proportions, and I knew precisely what I was going to do; somehow, I was going to break free of these bonds, and I was going to kill this man. “So, what do you think of my new pets, hm?” he spoke, smirking. With his head being so close to mine, I showed him exactly what I thought, by thrusting my head back into his face with all my might. Spluttering, he stumbled back and emphatically wrinkled his now bleeding nose; I turned away from the girls and faced him, baring my teeth and giving him the fiercest snarl I could muster. Tensing my muscles, I prepared for him to fly into a rage and viciously retaliate, and yet, no assault came. “Man, you really do have some heart, kid.” Wildly chuckling to himself, he walked up to me slowly and put his mouth to my ear. “Now, I'm going to lay things out for you, real simple.” Snapping his fingers, the Russian let go of the pulley system and I was finally dropped back to my knees, where I sighed a heavy breath of relief. Rummaging through his pockets and retrieving a set of keys, the man then made his way over to Rainbow Dash's cage. “Get up, go to your friend, go show him.” he ordered, unlocking the door and opening it. Rainbow Dash lay motionless, to which the bastard withdrew his pistol and pointed it in my direction. He then fired off a round which almost hit me, I flinched and ducked down for a moment, as did everyone at the deafening gunshot. “Next time, I won't miss him.” Sluggishly getting to her hooves, Dashie emerged from her cage and limped over to me, refusing to make eye contact. She didn't move as fast as our captor wanted, and he seized her by the mane to drag her towards me. Without an ounce of fight left in her, she allowed herself to be forcibly brought to me, and once she was properly in the light, I realised what was wrong with her; so terribly, terribly wrong. “Rainbow...” I breathed faintly. From the pit of my stomach to the top of my throat, my insides seized up, and I found myself feeling physically sick, and barely able to even breathe. With tears still streaming down her cheeks, Rainbow Dash looked up at me, and showed me the full extent of what this truly abominable wretch of a man had done to her. I looked on in horror as Rainbow splayed open her wings, or at least, what was left of them, for all that remained were two unsightly, multi-jointed, fleshy, scythe-like limbs; they were covered in deep holes and splattered with blood. Not a single feather remained on the broken creature before me, for they had all been brutally ripped away. What had happened here was beyond torture, the poor girl had been physically crippled, feather by feather. Rainbow Dash had been plucked, and was now, for all intents and purposes, a pegasus no more... The leader, revelling in the shock he had caused me, grinned widely and started stroking the back of Dashie's head. “Now this one? I like her man, she's got heart too, like you. But the thing is, alright… the thing is, she seemed to think that it'd be okay to go breaking one of my boys' arms, and then try to fly away. Well I didn't like that, so I had her tied down, and I made sure it wouldn't happen again.” Planting a kiss on Rainbow's head, he ordered her to get back into her cage and tossed the keys over to the Russian. The mare, completely destroyed, did exactly as she was told with little hesitation. With her head hung low, she shambled back to her confinement and collapsed. I watched bitterly as the Russian slammed the cage shut and locked it. I then turned to face the monster responsible, and glared at him intensely. Totally unfazed by my demeanour, he came up to me and squatted down to my level. “Now, I'm going to ask you again, and if you don't tell me everything about these creatures, I'm going to do the exact same thing to the yellow one.” I glanced past him to look at Fluttershy, where I could see the poor thing buried beneath her own mane and tail, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. “Or you know, I could just cut them off entirely?” he suggested, licking his lips, “With how good chicken wings are, who knows how good those will taste?” I couldn't take it anymore; taking advantage of his closeness, I lunged forward and latched onto him with all four limbs, dragging him into me as I wrestled him to the floor and headbutted him in the face as hard as I could, before trying to bash him repeatedly with the chains on my wrists. “YOU BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” I roared, consumed by uncontrollable rage. Try as I might, my efforts to destroy him were unfounded, as the Russian returned to the pulley system and yanked me back up so hard that my arms were nearly ripped from their sockets. Scrambling away from me, the man clutched at the now-marred and bloodied side of his face, hissing in a fit of excruciating animosity. After taking a moment to gather himself, he reached the end of his tether and strode up to me. “I think, boy, it's time you learned exactly who you're dealing with.” I tried to kick out at him upon his approach, to which he slinked to the side and punched me directly in the bullet wound on my arm; emitting a howl of agony, I continued my attempts to fight back, but he was far too nimble, and continued striking me multiple times in my wounds until they reopened. “Stop it! Stop it! You're hurting him!” Pinkie Pie cried out, rattling the bars of her cage. Ignoring the pink mare's pleas, he continued to beat me down until I collapsed to the ground, but it didn't stop there, as he proceeded to relentlessly kick and stamp at me; there was nothing I could do but curl into a ball and take the assault. With each blow I took to the head, everything grew fuzzier and fuzzier, until I was eventually beaten senseless. With a final punt to the ribs, my rage-fuelled defiance came to an end; I went limp and started to break into a sob, which was quickly silenced by him smacking me directly in the mouth. “No, no-no-no-no-no boy, you don't get to cry now!” Without warning, he pulled out his pistol for a second time, in which he pressed the barrel directly into my crotch. “No, if you're going to cry like a little bitch, then you don't deserve these.” he spat, “So shut your mouth right now, or I'll make sure you'll spend the rest of your life sitting down to piss.” Gritting my teeth and pursing my lips as tightly as possible, I ceased to weep just enough to satisfy him. He turned away, and suddenly took a pot-shot at Pinkie Pie, causing all the girls to scream. After a harrowing silence, it seemed that she hadn't actually been hit, bringing an almighty sigh of relief from me. “You see kid, I don't need all six, because I have a feeling that you know where I can find more.” the man speculated, humming loudly, “So unless you want to see one of their heads mounted to a fucking wall, you'd better start talking pretty damn soon.” It was then that the Russian cleared his throat, and lifted his chin. “What if uh, Paulo wants one?” Looking to his enormous henchman and itching his chin, the man gave a thoughtful hum. “I don't pay you to talk, but... Ugh, you're not wrong!” Rolling his eyes, he squatted beside me and started to gently pat at the side of my head. “Today's your lucky day hermano, I need to make a phone call. But don't think for one second that you're out of this, you and I are going to have a lot of fun together, okay?” Looking me up and down for a moment, he snapped his fingers, and the Russian strode over to untie the rope from my chains. “Oh, and seeing as you asked first, I guess it's only polite.” Helping me up to my knees, the man looked me dead in the eyes and smiled. “My name is Inigo Montenegro, and I'm the last face you're ever going to see in this life.” After tilting his head and giving one final smile, he lashed out with his pistol, striking me in the head, putting an abrupt end to the tattered remains of my consciousness... A wet flannel pressed against my face, and I was slowly roused from my comatose state, I gradually opened my eyes to see the blurred form of a person, lightly dabbing at my face with the flannel. “Hey you, you're finally awake…” a female voice spoke softly. Blinking a few times, I got a slightly clearer picture, and was met with a woman, kneeling beside me; she had long green hair and numerous ear piercings. She looked rather young, barely much older than myself, that was for sure. She continued to gently press the flannel against my bruised face, which was when I tried to get up; all the pain in my body immediately returned and I instinctively tried to curl up, rolling sideways and groaning weakly. “Oww...” The girl placed both of her hands on my torso and held me still, easing me back over to my original position. “Hey, take it easy.” she ordered. Her voice sounded English, and the kindness in her tone made it rather clear that she'd been taking care of me during my time unconscious. Relaxing slightly, I allowed her to continue tending to me with the wet cloth. “Where… Where am I?” I mumbled, my words slurred. “You, my friend, are the newest member of the Stock Heap.” “What?” “You’re in the Stock Heap.” she told me, “It's the name for this part of the compound, and where all the prisoners and slaves are taken, to be piled in together like the pitiful merchandise we are.” “Right, so we're the stock?” I guessed. Nodding, she explained to me that drugs and guns only made up a fraction of the cartel's trade, and that they made most of their money in human trafficking. Some people were sold back to their families, if they were rich enough, meanwhile others would be shipped into the unknown, to be forever lost in the underworld of sex and slave markets. Some slaves were to be kept here though, and had the luxury of leaving the Stock Heap every so often, to prepare food and service the men, but they were always kept under close observation. “Gods above...” I muttered, “So um, are you a slave? Or just, some of Inigo's 'stock'?” “Take a guess.” she replied dryly, showing me the bruises on her wrists. Apologising, I broke eye contact and pursed my lips; there was no telling what this girl had been subjected to here, but it sickened me to imagine. Wanting to know more about the person who'd been caring for me, I asked for the girl's name, to which she helped me sit up and smiled. “The name’s Nicole, Nicole Gilbert. And, you are?” “Callum, Horncastle.” “Ooh, fancy name.” she replied, flexing her eyebrows. “I'm picturing a luscious, high-class family?” “Try a working-class alcoholic mother, and a missing father.” “Woof, well that's not ideal.” she shrugged, “Well, not like that matters now, ey?” Huffing in agreement, I asked how long Nicole had been a slave here, to which she revealed that she had been the Stock Heap's green-haired thrall for about seven months now; but despite the life of a cartel slave being utterly gruelling for most, Nicole's nonchalant and happy-go-lucky demeanour had allowed her to cope with such harshness. That wasn't to say that she didn't find it difficult, but she had come to terms with the reality in the situation, and had found her way to endure and survive. “To put it crudely, if I'm going to be passed around from man to man, with the only alternative being a bullet to the head, I might as well try to enjoy myself, right?” she finalised with an awkward laugh. “Jeez, fair one I guess...” I murmured, gulping. Despite such a blunt and somewhat downplayed description for her mistreatment, her glassy eyes made it perfectly clear that she was more damaged than she chose to let on. But if her coping mechanism was to make light of the matter, and to simply keep calm and carry on, then more power to her; one thing was certain, Nicole Gilbert was one seriously tough young woman, of whom I immediately respected. “Well uh, seeing as you're allowed outside the Heap then, I'm guessing that you might be the best person to ask if there's a way out of here?” I inquired. Shaking her head and tutting, Nicole explained that Inigo liked to run a tight ship, and that guards were consistently on patrol; escaping was out of the question, at least for the regular stock. “So, no one's ever escaped?” I asked, “Like, ever?” Humming, she recalled how a pair of slave girls had escaped together once; two sisters, called Kiera and Laela, but how they'd actually escaped was beyond her. “It was probably in the back of a supply truck or something.” she speculated, “But still, they only got out of the Heap because they were slave girls, so unless you're willing to offer yourself to the guards, and are really convincing in drag, you're not getting out of here.” Shaking my head, I told her that I couldn't accept that, and that I needed to escape, or at least, rescue the friends of mine that were also here in Inigo's possession. “Pfft, good luck with that.” she snorted, “Look, if you want any chance of even surviving in here, you need to stay on your death bed for a while. If they think you’re fit enough to stand up, they'll put you through the slave trials, and if you fail those, and nobody's willing to pay for your release, they'll kill you.” Before I could reply, Nicole looked past me and her eyes widened. “Down.” she ordered, forcing me to lie back and placing the flannel over my face. I remained perfectly still as I heard loud footsteps close by, and after a good few seconds, they walked away. “What was that all about?” I asked, removing the cloth. “Vlad.” she grumbled. “Come again?” “Vladimir Kikashkov.” she began, “He’s the boss’s right hand man. People call him 'The Red Boulder', and he's the meanest block of muscle you'll ever meet. The bastard’s literally un-killable, he’s been shot dozens of times. Heck, I've genuinely seen him take a bullet to the head once, I'm pretty sure it's still in there actually. Trust Inigo to have a real living, breathing Incredible Hulk as his own personal lackey.” “I'm guessing he's the big beefy Russian bloke then?” I posed, “About six foot eight? Black hair, buzzed on the sides?” “Oh, so you've met?” Giving a disgruntled hum of confirmation, I asked Nicole to tell me everything she knew about this cartel. I wanted to know my enemy, inside and out; knowledge was power, and if I had any chance at escaping this place, I'd need to know what I was up against. Taking a deep breath, Nicole told me everything she'd been able to gather during her time in this truly horrible place. These people, and this entire facility, belonged to a vastly powerful pirate organisation, which was in turn, part of an interconnected criminal empire, all headed by one man, named Hoyt Volker; of whom ran the biggest slave, weapons and drug trafficking ring in the entire South Pacific. They manufactured drugs, murdered relentlessly, dealt with terrorists, and captured a lot of people, mainly tourists, who they would ransom back to their families for profit; most people in the Stock Heap were such people, desperately hoping that their families could meet the cartel's extortionate financial demands. “Things around here are run by Inigo Montenegro.” Nicole muttered, pulling a face of disgust, “People call him the Bogeyman of Brazil, he’s that Hispanic twat with the big skull on his chest.” “Yeah, I've met him too.” I growled. “Ooh, well aren't you popular?” she chuckled, “Then I don't need to tell you how unhinged he is. The man's an animal, and a rabid one at that. I'd reckon he’s one of the most feared men in the damn country.” Slowly shaking my head, I asked why the authorities hadn't put an end to him if he was such a notorious criminal, to which Nicole gave an amused sigh. “That's where Inigo shines, Callum. The man's crazy, but he's not stupid.” Nicole went on to tell me how Inigo very publicly targeted police officers and their families, and even had cartel members working within the public sector, secretly pulling strings throughout Brazil. He didn't just terrorise this country, he owned it! “Jesus…” I mumbled. “No, his name’s Inigo.” she corrected with a smirk, “Jesus was that other fella, with the holes and shit.” I looked at her blankly for a good few seconds, before we both started laughing, causing my injuries to hurt again. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.” I coughed. “Don’t find what I say funny then!” she snapped back, sticking her tongue out. Lying back down and tutting, I thanked Nicole for divulging the cartel's layout to me. I delicately rubbed over the bullet wound in my thigh, to find that although the seared flesh was hot to the touch, the area around it wasn't too badly infected; a blessing, considering how it had been exposed to raw sewage. “Oh yeah, those holes were pretty nasty.” Nicole said, “Your leg was alright, ish, but that one on your arm? Man, that thing was pissing blood when you were first brought in!” “Yeah, you've got Inigo to thank for that.” I grumbled. “Well, I cleaned it up as best as I could.” she told me, before tilting her head, “So, how did you get here anyway?” “Long story.” “I haven't got anywhere else to be, for now.” Seeing as she had so kindly tended to me, and provided me with so much information, I indulged her. “Well, I faked my death and ran away with six uh, friends.” I started, clearing my throat. Choosing not to mention the ponies by name, I explained that my 'friends' were simply a band of childhood companions, and we'd made a pact to go travelling together and see the world, living a life of adventure. We had been in the country for a couple of weeks, and were on our way upward to the Amazonas, which was when we were captured by Inigo and his people. “Damn, that's quite a story.” Nicole whistled, “Well, I'm afraid I've not seen anyone but you being added to the Heap lately, so if your friends are still alive, they're not here I don't think.” “Oh trust me, you'd know if they were here.” I chuckled. Explaining that Inigo had taken an interest in them, and was also planning to probe me for information about them, I continued to insist that I needed to escape and rescue them. “Look buddy, I don't know what else to tell you.” Nicole sighed, “There's no way you're getting out of here, not even if you had the entire Stock Heap backing you up.” “Now there's an idea...” I hummed. Realising that I was adamantly on a warpath to break free, Nicole tutted loudly. “I really can't talk you out of trying something, can I?” “Nope.” “Then can I at least suggest you play dead for a few more days? You need to get your strength back, especially if Inigo's planning to interrogate you. When he tortures someone, it's usually a one-way trip, you understand?” Dipping my chin to signal my concession, Nicole gently patted me on the head and ordered me to get some sleep, and then got up to leave. I painfully rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, and despite being determined to escape as soon as possible, my battered and exhausted body needed rest first, and even with my head still pounding, I found it relatively easy to drift off... “Hey, get up, breakfast.” Nicole ordered, nudging me. I awoke, again; it had been my fourth day now in the Stock Heap, and I had spent the majority of my time getting to know the other slaves and prisoners while I was in recovery. I came to know a great many names, faces, and stories, and above them all, I had become very close to a lad by the name of William Reed. Another Brit like myself and Nicole, William was a hilarious chap, he always looked on the bright side, and was full of life and enthusiasm; he was also, rather unhinged... Without a care in the world, it was almost like William didn't even care that he was being forcibly held captive, the guy would merrily prance around the Stock Heap and try to lift everyone's spirits with his nonsensical antics. His main act, to the bewildered amusement of everyone, featured him occasionally putting on a high pitched nasally voice, and running from prisoner to prisoner, asking for a Magnum ice cream; the crazy bastard had even asked the Stock Heap guards for one once, which resulted in a beating that he had deemed 'totally worth it for the shits and giggles'. There were a handful of other captives of whom I'd befriended, but William was certainly my favourite. “Thanks Nicole.” I said, retrieving my breakfast. I was absolutely starving, which almost made the plain rice and half-cooked chicken skin before me look like a bloody banquet. Without a moment’s hesitation I dug in, using my hand to scoop rice and skin into my gob; what little food I'd been provided with was gone in less than a minute. “Hungry by any chance?” Nicole asked. “Just a bit peckish.” I replied. Then from behind us, came the sound of footsteps, heavy ones; everyone in the Stock Heap grew silent as The Red Boulder had the chain-link gate unlocked, and then walked directly towards me. Taking a deep breath, I knew it was time for Inigo's interrogation, and from here on out, I was in for a world of pain. “Wish me luck...” I mumbled. Nicole gave me a sullen look, and I was suddenly seized by the throat and lifted to my feet. “S-Sup, big boy?” I choked, wheezing. Unamused, Vladimir squeezed at my neck until my face began to turn red; gritting my teeth, I tried to keep calm and waited until he finally released me, knowing full-well that he wasn't to harm me, at least, not yet. “Move.” he grunted. Giving my newfound allies a weak smile, I allowed the Russian to escort me from the chain-link block and out of the warehouse. A few rooms and corridors later, I found myself in the same chamber as before, and at one side were the girls, still in their cages. “Callum!” they all gasped. Sighing a breath of relief to see them again, I immediately felt a surge of emotion course through my body. Once Vladimir had released me, I gave the girls a hearty salute and grinned, letting them all know that I was strong in spirit, and wouldn't be broken by whatever was to come next. “What are you so smug about? Hm?” Inigo murmured from a dimly lit corner. Emerging from the shadows, The Bogeyman of Brazil strode up to me and repeated the question, and I couldn't help but notice the deep red marks on one side of his face, which I had caused. “I said what are you so smug about!? Huh?” “Oh, I'm sorry.” I responded with an innocent tone, “I've just been having the most wonderful time in the Stock Heap! The company's lovely, the hospitality is unmatched, oh and the cuisine! That chicken skin with the undercooked rice? I mean, what a dish... Seriously Inigo, hats off to your chef.” Both baffled and angered by my high spirits, he lunged forward and punched me in the gut; I tensed myself just before the impact and let out a low 'Umph!' as his fist made contact. “Man, that's a good punch...” I wheezed. Inigo gave a small whistle, to which Vladimir attached my chains to the same pulley system as before; I held my arms out for him to make it easier, which left Inigo even more taken aback. “What are you playing at, hm?” he demanded, “I said what are you playing at? So what, a week in captivity and you've got some Stockholm Syndrome or something? Huh? Seriously what's going on with you bro?” “Well, you’re the host, and I’m the guest. Should I not abide to your house rules?” I posed, shrugging. Blinking rapidly, Inigo found himself unable to properly gauge me. My change in attitude had been down to two main factors. Firstly, there was Nicole; witnessing her strength and nonchalance in the face of such gruelling adversity had inspired me, and I was now aiming to mimic such a degree of indifference to Inigo, knowing it would irk him. Secondly, seeing the girls again had pushed me through an emotional barrier; the drive to rescue them had overtaken all else, and I was ready to endure anything, if it would eventually lead to their freedom. “Let me remind you that you're only alive, because I am allowing it.” said Inigo, grabbing my cheeks with one hand, “And once I have what I want, I'm going to kill you, understand?” Giving him a perfectly blank stare, I kissed my teeth, and decided that it was all or nothing. “Counter point... Am I bovvered?” From the far corner of the room, I heard a snickering from one of the girls, knowing exactly what was coming next. Tilting his head, Inigo looked at me with confusion. “I beg your pardon hermano?” “Am I bovvered though?” “I don't, I actually don't know what you're saying.” “Look at my hand, look at my face, does my face look bovvered?” “Okay, you're really starting to fu-” “Hand! Face! Bovvered?” “Alright, shut up!” “I ain't bovvered though, I ain't bovvered!” I continued, “Hurry up and torture me already, I really ain't bovvered!” Done with my antics, Inigo threw a punch to my head, which I swerved away from and narrowly evaded. Now enraged, the man seized me at the collar and headbutted me in the face, I jolted back and shook my head in shock. “We done now?” Inigo barked, clenching his fists. Before I could rile him up further, he looked to the girls and then back to me, grinning. “You know what, let me answer that for you.” Walking circles around me, Inigo said that he had originally intended to give me a chance, to answer his questions and then return to the Stock Heap unharmed, but now that I'd pissed him off, we were going to do something a little different. “And I mean, you did ask me to torture you, so, really this is on you.” Clapping his hands twice, Vladimir lowered me down and untied me, while Inigo went over to the ponies. “Listen up horse girls, I want to play a little game. You like games?” Squatting down in front of their cages, he explained that he was going to have some 'fun' with me now, and that a plus one was invited to attend the show. Then, with an almighty grin on his face, he ordered the girls to decide amongst themselves as to who that plus one would be. In simpler terms, he was forcing them to elect somepony, to watch me be tortured. Shellshocked, none of them spoke, but Inigo was not a man to be refused, and I watched with dread as he reached for his pistol, removing it from his leg holster and aiming it at Pinkie Pie. “You know, this pink one? Really gets on my nerves, so you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to give you exactly, thirty seconds, to make a choice. And if you don't decide, I'm going to put a bullet...” Making a whistling noise, he slowly moved his fingers to his own head, clicking his tongue loudly upon touching his temple. “... Right through her skull, so hurry up and make a choice. Clock's ticking.” I watched hopelessly as they all looked at one another, utterly beside themselves at having to make such a choice. Eventually, a candidate volunteered herself; getting to her hooves and staring blankly into space, an already-broken Rainbow Dash declared that she would be the plus one. Putting his hands together, Inigo tutted loudly and hung his head with a melancholy expression. “You know, that's really fucking poetic. The one of you who already knows what it's like, volunteering herself, to spare her friends. Man, that nearly brought a tear to my eye! Look Vladimir, are my eyes not watering?” Daintily flapping a hand at his face, Inigo looked at his henchman and pointed to his eyes, to which the Russian gave an awkward nod. It was then that Inigo chuckled and shook his head, pointing at Rainbow Dash. “Thing is though, I think you're being greedy. What, no one else is allowed to join in on the fun? No, I can't pick you Blue, someone else has to choose.” Without missing a beat, from the gloomiest cage, Twilight stepped forward. “I'll do it.” Clapping enthusiastically, Inigo skipped over to the unicorn and praised her, unlocking her cage and beckoning for her to follow him. Vladimir grabbed me by the hair and directed me to a small room, adjacent to this one. The room had a great big wooden armchair in the middle, with leather straps around the wrist and ankle areas. On the walls were racks of tools, lots and lots of tools, most of them stained with blood. From saws, to knives, to hammers, to pliers; there was even a drill, and on a table at the far back, just beside a child's paddling pool, was a large truck battery. Gulping and looking around some more, I noticed something far worse than the torture tools. At the back of the room, in a crude pile, was a seething mass of cyan feathers; this was where Rainbow Dash had been plucked... “Oh sweet Jesus…” I mumbled quietly, shivering. Twilight was brought into the room after me, and clamped her eyes shut upon seeing the pile, gritting her teeth. Inigo forced her to sit next to it, and ordered her to stay put. I was then forcibly sat into the chair and strapped in. Vladimir went to shut the door, to which Inigo stopped him. “No-no man, keep the door open!” Turning to face me, the man's mouth slowly widened into a putrid grin, and he licked his bottom lip. “I want the other ones to hear his screams…”