"No!"
Crescendo tears himself out of sleep just as the heavy door to the prison swings open, and in the dim and blinding light he can make out the struggling figure of a young man being carried in. "No! Gods damn it, you can't do this to me! Let me go... I said let me go!"
The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but everything is sort of dreamy and far away. He is sick with lack of food. The boy seems to be moving in slow motion as he kicks out wildly, missing one guard by mere inches before screaming again. "I don't know anything! What the hell do you want with me? I swear to you, I don't know anything!"
Crescendo doesn't see the punch, but he hears it—a sick sound of muscle against soft flesh—and the boy goes suddenly quiet. Crescendo lies back down on the floor and tries to keep from crying.
