Unbreakable
Eyes fluttered open, vision blurry at first. He lay where he'd fallen on the cobblestone floor of the dark castle, chill bumps forming on his skin as the cold once again hit him. Slowly, he sat up, checking himself for injuries along the way. Aside from some stiffness and soreness, he seemed all right.
He was alive.
A gloved hand slowly reached over to his abdomen, the index finger tracing the scar he knew would be there. He shuddered at the rough texture otherwise standing out against smooth skin. And he remembered. He'd seen Death itself.
Oh, how could he forget that black-cloaked figure? The skull grinning down at him? That scythe glinting ominously as the thunder crashed and lightning flashed? He remembered the scream tearing from his own lungs as the scythe slashed, the feeling of his soul being forcefully ripped away. His own body collapsing like a useless puppet, claret red blood spurting. The face, frozen in an expression of terror. If that blonde guy hadn't shown up—
He shook his head to clear away the memory. The blonde guy did show up, along with the brunette guy, battling Death and saving his soul from being harvested. He'd watched the battle with great interest, drinking in the bulging, sinewy muscles of his saviors and wondering who they were. Afterward, he'd tried to go back into his body, only for a giant face crying bloody tears to pop out of a window, eliciting another scream from him. He was able to float back inside his body after the face left, though.
Now, he was seated cross-legged on the cobblestone, composing himself, making himself forget about Death and the scar, remembering why he'd come in the first place.
He must be so frightened in here—so frightened and so alone—and probably hurt, too—
But presently, he was unarmed and defenseless. The nifty little gadget which had no effect on these creatures lay shattered next to him. First things first, he needed to track down those two He-Men and get them to Gadd's office, so the three of them could powwow and figure out a way to re-equip him, properly this time. And maybe he'd get that blonde guy's phone number, too—
That, however, would come later. His mouth hardened into a taut line as he breathed in through his nose and stood to his feet, his legs a little wobbly. Taking another deep breath, he steadied himself, made a determined fist and smacked it into his palm, the sound echoing throughout the rain-soaked castle.
"I'm gonna find you, Bro," he vowed quietly, "and I'm gonna get you out of here. One way or another…"
Happy Thanksgiving!