There was blood in his eye, and he couldn't see.
He cinched his lid shut. Slowly, the liquid began to seep out, gathering drop by drop on his lashes.
The whip came down, striking him hard across the back of his shoulders, and he winced when the pain came a moment later.
"Pay attention." The voice was cold, demanding. Kid ignored it, focusing again on the blood that steadily dripped from the long slash in his forehead. He couldn't wipe it away, with his wrists tied back to his sides, and he couldn't move his head with the thick metal collar around his neck; the chain it was linked to was wrapped around the hand of his tormentor, used to hold him up so he couldn't avoid the bite of the lash.
"I gave you an order." Fuck you.
Kid experimented with tilting his head, trying to direct the flow of blood away from his eye.
The slap hit him across the left side of the face, spiked gauntlets dragging against his cheek and leaving long bloody welts. He choked out a cough, spitting out a piece of chipped tooth.
Great. Now blood was dripping in both his eyes.
"Listening now?"
His answer was a glare, thrown sideways behind him where he knew the man was. He'd lost track of the time he'd spent in this room, but the man was a constant, never pausing the torment. Even while he sat down to eat, the torturer had thrown darts at him, making a game out of piercing patterns in his skin.
Kid couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal. The complaints of his stomach, starved and twisted in his gut, had long ago taken a back seat to whatever the man's sick mind could come up with.
"I asked you a question. Answer me."
Kid licked his lips, dry and cracking. The only water he'd been given had been the man's leftover bottle, splashed in his face. "Nehhh…" he tried, voice hoarse from disuse.
The chain was yanked up, forcing Kid to sit back on his heels as the man leaned down towards him. "Speak up."
He wheezed, pressure on his neck making it hard to breath. He swallowed, throat aching as the weak muscles convulsed, and tried again. "Nehh…verr…"
The sound that came out was pitiful, more of a rasp than a human voice, but he knew the man understood him by the boot that dug into the small of his back.
"Never? Fool." Even in apparent anger, the man's tone was icy. "You'll break soon enough. I look forward to dumping your corpse out the window, you insolent brat."
Kid smiled wide, feeling the sores on his lips reopen as the skin stretched. "Give...it...worst...baaass...sstard."
The pull on the chain slackened, lowering Kid back into place. He heard the whoosh of air as the whip was raised, and grit his teeth in preparation for the next blow.
Metal clanged, the unmistakable sound of a lock being undone, and the door to the cell opened. Footsteps echoed lightly, the polished black boots that were all Kid could see walking forward to stop in front of him.
"Having fun, Vergo?" Huh. That voice was new. Other men had come in the cell before, delivering food to the torturer and checking on his progress. Their voices had been brisk, respectful, but this one was almost taunting.
The torturer hissed, the first sign of emotion Kid had seen from him. "That's Mr. Vergo to you, Law."
A light chuckle came in response. "Any progress to report, Vergo?"
"None." The same answer he'd given everyone who'd come to ask, and Kid was damn proud of it. Through the lashings, the molten prods, the electric shocks and all-out beatings, he'd never told the bastard anything. His crew was safe in their hideout, and it'd take more than this man could ever do to change that.
"Pity." The newcomer's tone made it sound like anything but. "Doflamingo has been informed of your lack of new information, and I'm afraid he's decided to have the prisoner transferred to…more suitable care."
Despite himself, Kid's muscles locked up at the name. Doflamingo. The drug lord that practically ruled over their little stretch of the sea, and one of the ones Kid had set out to take down. He'd had a pretty good chance, cobbling together a gang strong enough to take down all the other minor players and carving out territory under his name. They'd been about to make their move, the big one that'd really push them to the top of the power ladder, when a surprise raid had left them leaderless and landed Kid in a cell.
"That's ridiculous. I will break him. There is no one more suitable."
The newcomer (what had his name been? Law?) shifted on his feet, black boots approaching until they were only a few inches from his face.
"I did mention that these orders came from Doflamingo, did I not? If you wish to question them, I advise you to speak with him…given you value your life so little, of course."
Kid could feel the tension in the room, a string pulled taut. The drug lord's name seemed to do it, though, because he heard Vergo's teeth grinding even through the blood pounding in his ears.
The newcomer took that as acceptance. "He's to be moved today, to my personal quarters in the medical wing. Do me a favor, and have him ready for transportation when the men get here. You have," he paused, apparently to check something, "two hours."
With that, the boots turned on their heels, walking back towards the door. As he turned to pass through it, Kid saw the edges of a long black coat. Who the hell was this guy? An officer in Doflamingo's personal mafia?
Fingers dug into his hair, scraping his scalp as his head was yanked back. He found himself face-to-face with Vergo, upside down.
He'd never gotten a good look at the man. He wished he hadn't.
Vergo was a creepy fucker, with jagged-cut hair and shades shiny enough for Kid to see himself reflected in all his bruised and bloody glory.
"You may think you've gotten away," he said, freakishly calm, "but you haven't. You will die here, if it's by my hand or his."
Try me, fuckface.