Author's Note: Chapter warning for violence and prolonged torture. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter 12:

The Blue Room

He was like a bee, flying inside a honeycomb. The diamond like pattern twisted and turned and floated above him, around him, the pattern's edges folding out and over and into itself, doubling, tripling, until it was like being trapped inside a diamond. So many facets, shimmering and twinkling under the wavering light. The diamond sparkled and shimmered in a glassy haze, the edges of it blurring, fading. No! he thought. I can't stay inside this honeycomb forever! I have to get out! I have to get to...He tried so hard to remember, to focus. Focus! his mind screamed at him. And so slowly, so very, very slowly, the facets started to coalesce, their edges settling, becoming hard, becoming very much like a diamond. The lines stopped blurring and he found he could see the pattern clearly, if he squinted: a honeycomb grid hanging above his head, on a rice paper canopy lit by a large ornate light fixture. The grid shimmied and swayed and finally came to a relative standstill. Nagisa squeezed his eyes shut. The nausea came and went with his dancing vision; as long as the world stood still, he could concentrate and fight off the urge to vomit. Where am I? he thought to himself. What happened to me?

Then, as if the world had heard his thoughts, it said: "I suppose you're wondering where you are?"

That voice! He knew that voice! But it was from such a long time ago…"The place I'm in...it's finally stopped spinning," Nagisa rasped drunkenly.

"You're inside a chateau just outside of London. Out in the country." A small pause. "Don't you remember what happened?"

Nagisa closed his eyes and in his mind he saw a bright light shining overhead, haloing a head of fiery red hair. Karma. I was sitting in a clearing with Karma. And then suddenly- Nagisa's eyes flew open. "Karma! Where's Karma? He's been hurt-"

"How sweet," said the familiar sounding voice. "That even in your current situation, your only concern is for your doomed classmate."

"What? Classmate? I haven't been in school for years," observed Nagisa. A dark revelation suddenly smacked up against the wall of Nagisa's consciousness. Wait! That voice! I know it! It lives on in my nightmares, in my memories…

A face suddenly appeared in Nagisa's line of vision. A face crosshatched with shiny crescent shaped scars and a sick, damaged grin. No, it can't be! I defeated you long ago! They sent you away! They said-

"It's true, you may not be in school anymore," said Takaoka. "But for me, I've thought of nothing but that time, that day, for the past five years."

"You! Stay away from me!" Nagisa hissed in a trembling voice. He tried to move back and away from Takaoka's twisted grinning face, but found that he couldn't. And not just because he'd been sedated with some kind of drug that was screwing with his vision and his ability to think clearly, but because his wrists had been tied with some kind of bungee cord like restraints to the headboard of the bed he was lying on. It didn't matter that his limbs could barely respond to his mind's commands to move, because he couldn't go anywhere anyway. He was trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.

"What have you done to me?" Nagisa said weakly, trying desperately to move his legs. Unfortunately, those had been restrained as well, and Nagisa was just starting to appreciate the vulnerable position his was in: Tied up, spread eagle, in the middle of a large four poster bed. He was like a butterfly pinned to a mat. That image made him panic even more. Because Takaoka was just the sort of person who enjoyed tearing the wings off of butterflies…

"I gave you a muscle relaxant," Takaoka admitted, answering his question. "I couldn't take any chances. Not with you. You're too dangerous. I've learned that lesson twice now." Takaoka reached out and snagged Nagisa's chin with his hand, forcing the blue haired boy's gaze to meet his own deranged stare. "You have no idea how I've longed for this day," he whispered into Nagisa's panicked face, his words trembling with an emotion Nagisa couldn't identify. His eyes glittered with unrestrained malice. "Dominika Ivanov has been the answer to all my prayers, all my wishes-"

"Dominika?" said Nagisa, his mind turning to another, darker thought. "Where is Dominika? Is she with-"

"-that red haired classmate of yours? The tall, good looking one? Of course she is. While she was generous enough to let me have you all to myself, she did want her own share of the fun. You see, Dominika is a very playful-and very sadistic-little kitty; she needs her own mice to play with."

Nagisa pulled uselessly against the restraints, his heart trip hammering in his chest. But not for himself. Karma! No! Not Karma! "You can't leave him with her, she'll-"

"-she'll what?" Takaoka interrupted. "Kill him? Probably." The hand holding Nagisa's chin crept up his face to almost lovingly smooth the hair back from his eyes. Nagisa twisted his head away from the man's unwanted touch, as Takaoka crooned over him in a low, threatening voice, "At least she'll probably make his death quick, which is more than what you'll get. No. Not for you, Nagisa Shiota. Your death will neither be quick nor clean." Takaoka's large, lumbering shadow withdrew, and Nagisa felt himself exhale a shaky breath. The unexpected sound of metal scraping against metal jerked Nagisa's head to the side like a fishing line, and Nagisa, whose vision was almost back to normal now, quickly took inventory of the room's contents: the bed, the blue walls, a large oak wardrobe, a matching dresser, a mirror, a desk, a chair, the lowered blinds and black out curtains, and a small bedside table. It was this last that drew Nagisa's attention, and it was over this particular piece of furniture that Takaoka stood. For on top of the tiny table was a knife block, the kind you would find in your average kitchen, filled with an assortment of various sized knives, their presence ridiculously out of place in the small, intimate bedroom. Nagisa's pulse started to race as his eyes latched onto the knife set. Takaoka had already selected a large butcher's knife from the block, its blade winking maniacally under the room's gold covered light fixture. Takaoka smiled slowly, sadistically, as he watched Nagisa's eyes widen at the blade-the look of fear on the boy's face was like food for his twisted soul, like an aphrodisiac more powerful than any other. Without taking his eyes from Nagisa's, Takaoka gently replaced the knife and instead he picked up a grilling skewer he had laid across the table. Seemingly happy with this decision, he slowly made his way back over to the bed, his dilating pupils and throbbing jugular vein betraying his barely restrained excitement. Nagisa went rigidly, helplessly still as Takaoka said to him in an insidious whisper:

"Let's get started, shall we?"

Karma wished he could take it all back. All those things he'd said to Nagisa out in the clearing. What an ending, thought Karma. And Nagisa never said he forgave me for it; I'm going to die with him hating me. What a horrible thought…

The gun was less than three meters from his face. He watched with a detached air as Dominika lifted it, aiming at him point blank.

I'm so sorry, Nagisa. thought Karma morosely. I'm sorry we didn't have more time together. You don't know how happy you made me these last few days. It was so perfect, the two of us together. I was so close to having it all. So, so close...

Dominika grinned maliciously as she prattled on. Only Karma had stopped listening. He was busy with his own thoughts, which boiled down to one thing:

I love you, Nagisa…

Karma watched resignedly as Dominika pulled the trigger. He heard the tell-tale click and then…

...nothing.

Karma's eyes widened slightly. He had braced himself for the impact and then...nothing happened. Even Dominika seemed perplexed. She was staring at the barrel of the gun in confusion. Grimacing, she lifted the 9 mm again and pulled the trigger. Again there was a hollow click and-

Karma practically leapt off the couch, attacking Dominika head on. He went for the gun, throwing his full weight at the woman, the action knocking over the chair she was sitting in and spilling them both onto the floor. Karma's shoulder cried out in a litany of pain as it hit the hardwood flooring but he ignored it. Whimsical fate had seen fit to release him from impending death and he would be damned if he let this chance go to waste! So he fought hard. It wasn't too difficult; deprived of a working weapon, Dominika was no match for Karma in all of his burning, blinding fury. Karma wrenched the gun from her smaller hands and he slammed her head into the back of her wooden chair. Once. Twice. She was wailing for Andrew, her high screams reverberating off the windowless walls. Speaking of which...

Karma rolled strategically onto his back, aiming the gun directly at the Englishman, who was leaning insouciantly against the back wall. He hadn't moved at all from his earlier position. Karma quirked a questioning eyebrow at him, but then he noticed Dominika was trying to get up again. With one last enraged cry, Karma turned and slammed her forehead into the hardwood floor. She slumped lifelessly, wordlessly, to the ground. Gulping for air, his chest heaving and his whole left side feeling like it was on fire, Karma crawled up onto his knees. He was surprised when he was offered a hand up by Andrew, who had finally seen fit to move from his spectator's position by the wall. In return, Karma aimed his gun at him. Andrew simply shook his head and said, in his clipped accent, "You can stop waving that thing around. The clip is empty. I know, because I'm the one who emptied it." Karma regarded him warily, refusing to lower his weapon, until he said:

"It's okay. My name's Andrew Strickland, and I actually work for MI-6."

Don'tscreamdon'tscreamdon'tscreamdon'tscream…

It was impossible, though. As Takaoka proceeded to drive the metal skewer straight up into the sole of his right foot, Nagisa screamed up at the honeycomb canopy, his back arching off the bed, his whole body straining helplessly to get away. But there was no getting away. He was trapped. Takaoka was gripping his ankle with one hand as the other plunged cold hard metal into the soft underside of his foot, the sharpened point scraping sensitive nerves and delicate bone along the way as he shoved the tortuous instrument straight up into his leg, burying it to the hilt. Each delicate twist and turn of the skewer sent shockwaves of intense pain all throughout Nagisa's body, burning and stinging his nerve endings like bolts of electricity. It seemed impossible that such a small area could hold such potential for unlimited pain, but it seemed Takaoka knew what he was doing. Every little move and vibration from the skewer struck tiny, unseen nerves, and with concentrated effort, Nagisa tried not to move, as even the smallest twitch was cause for complete and utter agony. Nagisa panted, breathing through the pain, as he lay prone in the corded spider's web he was trapped in. His arms ached where he had been unconsciously straining against his bonds, and threads of sweat covered his forehead, snaking down and spilling across the coverlet. Tears threatened to make an appearance as well, but he valiantly held those back, because he'd be damned if let Takaoka have the satisfaction of breaking him so soon. He would not-could not-let the man see him cry.

"Such a scream," remarked Takaoka. "You actually have a lovely voice, you know." Takaoka softly caressed his instep. "Like an angel. I think I would like to hear more of it-"

Another scream was ripped from Nagisa's throat as Takaoka grabbed the hooked end of the skewer and began manipulating it back and forth, slicing through delicate nerves endings and soft flesh. The headboard creaked in accompaniment to Nagisa's cries as he slammed his head back, gritting out, "God!"

"Don't pray to God, Nagisa. There is no God. And even if there were, he wouldn't spare a thought for an obscene monster like you." Nagisa heard footsteps crossing the floor. A shadow fell over his face. Nagisa squeezed his eyes shut and panted against the pain, gulping down air. He felt a hand on his neck and a slight whimper slipped from his throat as Takaoka grasped his chin again.

"You know, that saccharine smile of yours has haunted my dreams, my nightmares, every day for the last five years." Takaoka leaned down so close that Nagisa could feel the other man's breath on his face, dusting over his nose, his cheeks. "Maybe I should cut if off," he whispered. "I could slice you from ear to ear, and purge the horrible image from my mind. They could call you the Blue Dahlia." Nagisa opened his eyes and looked his tormentor directly in the face. Their noses were mere inches apart. Then Nagisa said calmly:

"When I get free of this, it won't be the stun gun for you, Takaoka. This time, it'll be the knife."

Doubt momentarily flickered across Takaoka's face. He drew back from Nagisa, staring down at him like he was a poisonous snake that he had almost accidently stepped on. Then he seemed to remember himself and he began laughing, his shoulders shaking with it. "So fearless, Nagisa! Even more so now than when I first saw you. I have to admit, you're a credit to your profession. You won't break easily, and I like that. It pleases me." Takaoka gave one last chuckle before he went back to the small bedside table. His hands hovered over the objects there, his eyes bright and shining like a child who was being allowed to choose a brand new toy. His fingers caressed the handles of various knives. He reached down and picked up a metal cork screw. He held it up, examining it, but ultimately decided against it. He put the screw down. His hand went back to the knife block. He chose a large butcher's knife, sliding it slowly from its wooden sheath, and Nagisa watched in a cold sweat as Takaoka paused to stare at his own reflection in the blade. Smiling to himself, Takaoka slowly approached the bed. Nagisa's heart began hammering against his ribs like something that wanted out. The knife blade flashed brightly, ominously, as Takaoka said:

"Come on, Nagisa. Let's hear that angel's voice of yours one more time…"