Sometimes he thought back to how things were. Back to when people were terrified of him; back when the Numbers were at stake; back when he was important. Back to when he wasn't so weak.

But those days were long gone now. Astral had the Numeron Code, while he had failed. It was sad to think about sometimes, that he had had one lousy job, one purpose and he couldn't even accomplish that. And in all truth, he'd never even really gotten close to succeeding either.

But none of that truly mattered anymore. That was all just history, perhaps even just some demented fantasy.

(That's how far away it seemed. He knew it had happened but it felt like so long ago that perhaps there was a chance he'd imagined it all in some nightmare)

He missed the fighting and Numbers War. Mainly because it was something to do. After all, he had nothing anymore. Just his numbness.

There used to be anger. Lots of it really. He remembered hating Astral and Yuma and that bastard Barian that stabbed him in the back first chance he got. Dark Mist knew he shouldn't have trusted him, he always knew that Barian was just using him until he got what he wanted, but even despite knowing, he'd still fallen for the trap. He was such a fool...

Oh, but again, that's all just history. The anger has long since been gone. He wished he could tell how long, but in his seal, time is impossible to keep track of.

(He used to try, but he always lost count after a few hours)

He missed the anger too. He hated being so numb all the time. He didn't even feel the chains digging into his wrists anymore.

He used to try and escape sometimes, but his bonds never gave no matter how hard he thrashed. The shackles would just cut deeper and deeper until they finally hit bone and then he'd hang limply and try to catch his breath. He'd bleed too. He bled a lot when the chains ripped his flesh off, but he was usually too exhausted by then to care.
Since he didn't really think of how much he hated everyone anymore, he usually had lots of time to think of other things. One subject he always came back to was the way he was sealed. It wasn't necessarily to try and find a way out, but more just boredom and curiosity.

(What little he could muster anyways. It was better than nothing, and those little things seemed to be what kept him from falling even further into insanity)

The reason it struck his curiosity was the chains themselves mainly. The seal was a complete void, nothing but utter blackness, yet somehow the chains were connected somewhere, holding him in place. He tried hard to see where they ended, but they were swallowed up in darkness and he could never find where they ceased.

He'd even tried calling out before to see if there were even walls. He never heard anything echo back which meant the room couldn't have any ends or walls.

Dark Mist had come across another subject he would stop to think about sometimes, though this one far more painful and less trivial then the last. Ever since he'd been corrupted all that time ago, he'd never felt any emotions other than anger and hate. But right before the numbness set in, he'd started feeling other emotions he'd never expected to experience, like loneliness, sadness, fear. The list went on.

(However, he did notice none of them were positive)

He did think that maybe he was still losing what little sanity he had left despite his trying not to.

(He wasn't sure why he bothered though)

No sane person would be so confused about this situation as he was. They'd know if they wanted to get out or not, but he didn't. He wanted to at first because he was still in denial and told himself it wasn't too late to get the Numeron Code. But now, he didn't know. He wanted to because he was tired of nothing ever happening, but at the same time, he was terrified of what might happen if he got out. What if things had changed a lot since he was last free? He wasn't sure why, but the thought of change was the most frightening thing he could think of at the time.

(Maybe it scared him because he was supposed to be causing terror, not feeling it himself. And it just wasn't right. It was just so wrong)
Sometimes he'd wonder why Astral didn't simply kill him. Why bother locking him away when Astral could easily just wipe him from existence and not have to worry about him ever again?

(Torture. He was just torturing him. That's the only answer there could be. And perhaps, Astral enjoyed the thought of keeping him miserable?)

When Dark Mist found that the reason he had to suffer like this was because Astral was just getting a kick out of it, it managed to start a spark of hate burning inside him. It was enough to make him start thrashing against his binds again.

After 10 minutes of thrashing to no avail, he finally stopped and hung limply just like so many times before. He could feel the anger drain from him along with the wasted energy, leaving him feeling just so empty again.

(And now that he thinks about it, he's so sick of feeling like this. How can Astral do this to him? He wanted so bad for it to end...)

So he decided it would. If he couldn't escape, he'd simply make it end, make the pain go away.

He let a tentacle grab onto one of the chains that was hanging, disconnected from everything, and pulled it closer to himself. He stopped and mentally asked himself if this was really what he wanted.

(He didn't truly want to, but he had no other options...)

He carefully wrapped the chain around his neck.

(He'd do it fast. It didn't have to hurt...)

With the chain still wrapped around his throat, he jerked the metal links up as fast as he could.

(He could hear the crack of his windpipe collapsing and his spine snapping from the sudden force)

That awful crack echoed in his ears until everything faded into oblivion.

And that snap had been the only sound that he'd been able to hear the echo of.