Prologue
Pain. That was his first thought that enshrouded his consciousness as his awareness returned. The intense beating ache of the rhythm of a drum sounded throughout his aching skull as his eyes squinted pathetically at the harsh, unforgiving light. Coughing from the dust that had affixed itself to the inside of his ruined mask, the sluggish trail of blood continued to drip unceremoniously onto the rubble beneath him; red rivulets running down his broken body in a steady rhythm to an unknown melody, the drops coalescing to form a weeping puddle of tragedy.
For what seemed like an age, the steady rhythm of a continuous flow was the only noise to accompany the sinister silence that had succeeded the devastation. The gentle pitter-patter of the drops deafening in the amplification the silence brought; like death's messenger the eerie stillness foreshadowing death and destruction.
The gentle pattering of his precious life-force lulling him to, what would be, a premature, eternal sleep, he blinked slowly, regaining his wits. Aware of his precarious situation and his weakening grasp of consciousness, he painfully shifted within his tomb, that of which the falling debris had encased him in. Harsh gasps and pain filled grunts filled the air as the lithe, battered figure tried to pull himself from his would-be grave. Struggling under the immense weight of the broken rocks and destroyed building, he finally managed to uncover his upper torso to accompany his already half uncovered face.
Exhausted, he lay back and basked in his momentary success. The throbbing of his skull resonating through his body right up to the tip of his toes in an ever increasing, unforgiving dance. The insistent thumping accompanied by the steady rhythm of his life dripping away lulling him into a false sense of reality only sleep may bring.
Blink. Blink.
Noises. Voices, he recalls. Calling. Calling him. Calling him? What. What?
Blink. Blink.
They shout for him. He thinks. He doesn't know. He can't seem to think. He's too tired, eyes too heavy to maintain the burden of wakefulness. Sleep. Sleeping is good, especially when he's tired, right?
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Closing his already drooping his eyes, he gives into the sweet embrace of Morpheus.