Senseless. Black and gray blurs. Pain. Numb pain.
And the constant, iron taste of blood.
"Tell us."
The voice was hard, dark, a voice one wouldn't disobey willing, especially if this deafeningly frightening tone was speaking to one through a haze of darkness. But Ludwig dared to fight back.
"No."
This was uttered with defiance. It tested the speaker before him to continue this horrible torture, dared him to cause this agony further. Internally, Ludwig was seething with anger, the desire to beat his capturer to the point of death snaking hotly throughout his traumatized body, but his bound limbs twitched from their contained state, obviously unable to do anything but keep his form to the hard, uncomfortable wooden chair by leather and buckle.
A hollow echo of footsteps rang from the pitch, overwhelming darkness, seeming to come towards Ludwig like some kind of demonic spirit through the night, rushing in on him, the sound pressing from all directions. Panic showed on his suddenly taut face, shining, unmasked, in his bright blue eyes, his body arching against the seat as if he could, by sheer force, free himself and escape the oncoming being.
"Fine." This noise pierced his ears as if the speaker were the shadows around him itself, loud and overpowering, erasing his very thoughts as it continued coldly, blood-thirsty, "We'll keep on with our little game, then."
His voice was drowned out with the thunderous roar of some kind of machinery coming to life, a blade spinning, humming into being with a grinding bark against its holding place.
Sweat accumulated to Ludwig's temples as the sound came to him, settling as terror in his throat, unable to scream as he could feel the air near his legs move abruptly as if the turning blade was there, the growling of it so loud his mind seemed to stop for a moment.
"Last. Chance." The voice seemed to be smiling at him with cruelty, crushing his will, his chest, breathing becoming more difficult as he struggled against the straps around his arms, the steal buckles cutting into his skin. The words he wanted to shout furiously, defiantly into this formless speaker's face caught in his mouth, lips loosened but hesitant as if fear of becoming sick. The whirling blade was very close to his leg, so close his pants leg was fluttering madly as if desperate to be sucked into the saw's internal structure. This made his chest lock up with horror, eyes straining with tense pain as they searched the mindless shadows, and, blinking once, shoving the blade from his web of thoughts, he barked,
"Never."
