When he woke, the first thought to cross his mind wasn't that he was incapable of moving, but rather the burning pain had completely subsided and he was alive. As his eyes began their timid initial movement to open, the bright light that flooded in caused him to wince and his body gave a slight jolt. And it was with this sudden movement that he realized he was utterly restrained and his head throbbed.
With several blinks, his eyes adjusted slowly to the brightness. He hated the light; it overwhelmed his heightened senses, even now after so many years. He immediately moved to reach for his glasses …. 'No, I can't move … that's right.' The thoughts rolled across his mind as he came to terms with the severity of his current weakness. He was disgusted with himself for being in this state; he knew better, but again … he was alive. The memories of last night were only flashes … last night? It was daylight now, but he knew he really wasn't sure how long now it had been, but … thank the gods the pain was gone. This meant the silver rounds had been removed.
As the small room around him slowly bounced into sharp focus, he quickly realized what was restraining him. In other circumstances, this would have proved to be quite humorous, but he didn't find it funny now. He found it embarrassing and inconvenient. He was affixed to each side of a small metal bed frame with … Duct Tape. He blinked and looked around at himself again … Duct tape? Yes. Yes … Duct Tape. A LOT of it. He quickly noted enough was used to leave 3 empty spindles sitting on the floor just a few feet from the bed.
Both of his arms were attached, solidly, from wrist to mid humorous, and his legs, from knee all the way to ankle. And he could feel the tape secured tightly around his mouth. It had been wrapped around his entire head. He had no idea how many times, but looking at the three empty spindles again, he imagined quite a few.
What had happened? The memories were fierce but they were just barely trickling in. 'Oh yes …' he thought to himself as one particular flash grazed past his conscience. He remembered they had been … they had been trying to hold him down … he remembered the pain, and then the need and the hunger had completely overwhelmed him … he had attacked them. The blinding pain and need to survive had driven him back to his animal instincts, but that was the last thing he remembered.
Them? … no, that wasn't right. There was only one and if he remembered correctly, it was a her. It was a tiny her. He couldn't remember anything other than her tiny frame as she struggled to get his silver bullet riddled body inside, and away from the impending strigoi assault. He had leaned heavily against her as they navigated the internal maze of hallways of the industrial building.
In his natural state, he would have been able to rip through the makeshift restraints, but he was surprised at their confining strength. He considered if he should be more surprised at his state of weakness, rather than their strength, but he shrugged this mental debate off quickly; his inability to focus on the task at hand was due to the fatigue. GODS DAMN IT, focus … he commanded.
Dropping his head back onto the pillow, he began the futile attempt to rattle the frame loose. If he couldn't rip the damn tape, then maybe he could break the frame apart enough to free a hand to allow him to unwind it. The frame was sturdy and his body weight held it down snugly, and god damnit, he was weak. He needed to feed. His body would heal fast, but it had already been over a day since he last ate even before the excursion to the old factory in the first place.
He closed his eyes tightly and breathed out heavily through his nostrils. Trying to rock himself free had done nothing but exhaust him further, and his frustration on his current state caused his heart to start pounding. Damnation! He had things that he needed to do, important things … He had a DESTINY to fulfill! He is THE BORN, gods damnit … the born, now tied to a rusty bed with bloody Duct Tape. He quickly decided that if he survived this experience, there would be NO mention of this to anyone … especially Goodweather or Fet … wait, another memory rattled lose from the spider web of his clouded thoughts. Goodweather, Fet, Setrakian, Gus and Dutch. Oh gods …
His eyes darted open quickly as he realized he had no idea what happened to rest of the team. When they had become overwhelmed, he had lead the strigoi away from them. Did they get away? His frustration finally culminated into a disgruntled moan and he pulled once more at both of his arms with as much strength as he could manage before collapsing back into the uncomfortably thin mattress. Then, he heard the soft and distant footsteps trespass into his ears.
She was returning.