A/N Intended to be short! This is just the prologue! Future chapters will be longer I promise!
For this fic
A song for this fic: This is Gospel - Panic! At the Disco
Disclaimer: I do not own pjo
All was silence. His body floated through a thick substance. It clung to his limbs like glue and slowed his movements like trying to swim through honey. Above the water he heard someone shouting. Or maybe that was just his imagination. Yes, that must be it. But there it was again, a voice, muffled and distorted just enough to prevent him from making out the words.
Then a change. His slow, sleepy state evaporated and he was suddenly enveloped in cold. All around him was noise and confusion. A tight pinching feeling spread around his right forearm that he faintly recognized. Hold, that was the word. Someone, or something, was holding him.
Wild fear surged in his chest. He flailed around in a panic. Jerking and wriggling violently to distance himself from the 'thing' gripping him tightly. He cried out, desperately trying to free his arm from his captor's grip. A tight twinge spread through his shoulder, something was wrong there. He had somehow hurt himself. The concept confused him even further, making his struggles become more aggressive.
"Calm down," ordered a low, growling voice.
Instantly, accepted the words. It was as if he had been hypnotized. That voice commanded him, he obeyed. He should calm down. Why was he so upset? There wasn't any real reason for him to panic, was there?
There was something underneath him now, supporting him. Something soft, and sturdy. He was still, no longer fighting, and though the pressure on his arm lessened, it didn't disappear completely.
"What is your name?" the voice asked. He didn't answer. Your name? The phrase seemed alien to him, a foreign concept. "What is your name?" the voice asked again, more forcefully this time. He still didn't answer. What was his name? A nagging sensation at the back of his mind told him that the information belonged there but he didn't know what it was yet. Name... what was his name...
"Open your eyes," it was the same voice again.
He obeyed and immediately let out a whine of protest as the sharpness of the light around him burned his adjusting eyes. His eyes watered as they peered at the too bright world around him. The amount of black around him startled him. Why was there bright light in a black room?
"Where are you?" the voice asked.
Again, he felt like he should know the answer but it was just... gone. An empty space in the back of his mind where the information should go.
"Answer me," the voice demanded.
"I-I don't know..." his voice sounded strange and unfamiliar even to himself, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
"Vlacas," the voice muttered. "Look at me."
He did. Sat beside him was a man with black, oily hair and cold, dark eyes. His skin was pale, looking almost like snow against his hair, eyes, and clothing.
"Do you know who I am?" the man asked.
"No," he replied.
"Do you know who you are?"
"No," he said again.
The man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. That gesture seemed familiar to him, something he had seen before but he couldn't think where. "At least that's somewhere to start," the man muttered. He frowned, Start what? "Your name," the man began, "is Nico di Angelo."