WARNING: This chapter contains strong language, and scenes of abuse that some readers might find upsetting.
The difficult stuff needs a long, long run-up, and even after seven re-writes i'm still not quite sure I got it perfect (far from it). But my muse is a funny thing, and only allows so much editing at a time, so here you have it ready or not. Oh and if you are wondering, no I am not done yet: Worse is yet to come - if that's even possible.
Chapter 36. Altered.
"Nooo, Vinnie!"
He let out a small sob as he watched. Eventually the man stopped moving, having lain twitching for a few moments before that final sigh of life escaped him. The blood-spattered white mouse still stood over his body, panting heavily through his nose from the effort - physical and emotional. From his cage Throttle had observed the terrible transformation in his younger bro with dismayed horror. How could he have done such a thing? How could he have taken a life, a second life, an innocent one? What has the Pit Boss done to him?
Pause. Everyone was staring at the scene, an image captured forever in that brief moment of near photographic stillness. Most of the other slaves looked shocked, and fearfully so. They had just witnessed the most lowly of their ranks rise up to take his place above them, somehow; that figure from only weeks ago now altered from terrified, to terrifying.
The watching members of the pit crew were also surprised, though for other reasons. Some certainly hadn't expected him to obey such a gruesome order as this. Had it not been so astonishing they might have cheered, for some reason it just wasn't the time for celebration. At least one of them was pleased, however; the head goon could barely contain the grin on his face, and so by contrast looked decidedly smug.
There were two other pairs of eyes fixated on the bloody aftermath of the execution. One of those was staring as if recently awakened from a long sleep, only to find that everything had changed in his absence. Modo's mouth was opening and closing, mute, like he was trying to find words that wouldn't come, couldn't come even. What could he say, even if allowed to voice an opinion? That one of his best friends had turned into a monster? He was utterly bewildered. It's just not possible, it's not Vinnie. That's not Vinnie; my bro wouldn't do that. That's not my bro.
The second of those two other watchers showed only one thing on his face: an unmistakeable look of revulsion. He had spent the last month nurturing a murderer, so that feeling wasn't just directed at the subject of this nightmare in front of him. The tan mouse glanced up and could see that Wes was not impressed with what had just happened, and clearly was wishing he could be somewhere else right now, certainly anywhere but here.
End pause. Flint stepped forward and yanked the bloodied stick from Vinnie's hand, making no effort to avoid kicking the dead slave as he did so. "Alright, enough. Let that be a warning to the rest of you." He glared threateningly at the rows of frightened prisoners still peering down from the front of their tiny cells, who then retreated hastily within to avoid being the next to face the head goon's wrath. He then turned to Wes and pointed the stick towards the white mouse. "Get him cleaned up, boss is going to want to see him."
The welder nodded and took Vinnie by his shoulders, gently coaxing him away from the corpse at his feet and back towards his workshop home. Now that the adrenalin was waning the mouse was quite compliant, and in something of a daze himself. He allowed the man to lead him away without any resistance, which was a relief to Wes who almost thought his charge might suddenly turn on him too.
Once the mouse and welder were out of sight, Flint gave a wave of his hand and two of the crew moved in to drag the lifeless man's body away. Throttle was still watching everything through the bars of his enclosure. He couldn't help but wonder about the dead slave, and where they would take his body, or indeed any of their bodies. What happened to those who finally fell for the last time?
He didn't have very long to think about it though because something, or rather someone, was demanding his attention.
"Don't think you're getting away with that little outburst of yours. Pit Boss is going to want to see you too, and somehow I think he ain't going to be too upset about it." Flint sneered nastily down at him, signalling again to his waiting crew.
Throttle threw one last glance behind him as he was dragged away. At the congealing blood in the dirt, the stain broken where they had dragged its owner away; and at the few remaining watchers, still gazing with eyes wide. At his older bro, still gaping in shock and confusion, flicking his single ruby-red eye between where he had last seen his two friends, and where each of them were now heading; and in the distance at that small dwelling, a tiny glow of light indicating that its occupants had returned once more, back into its inviting warmth and not to where he himself was heading right now.
If anything, having seen what he just had, and guessing what was coming next, the castle had never looked more foreboding.
For fuck's sake get a grip. Get a grip Wes, there was nothing you could do. It was going to happen, you knew it was, it was just a matter of when. Not if, when.
When. Now. Oh fuck. Why did it have to happen now, on my fucking watch?
Wes was pacing. He felt angry, at himself, at the mouse, Flint, the Pit Boss, the world. Everything, it seemed, had conspired to bring about this day, and try as he may there was no way to avoid it. Now it had happened he simply had to deal with it.
With him.
The first thing he had done when he entered his building was to shove the mouse to the floor and chain him to the wall. He wasn't taking any risks; he had no idea how his charge would react once what he had done really sunk in. He knew it hadn't yet, but again that too was only a matter of time.
There wasn't long enough to run a bath, so he filled a bucket of warm water from the boiler in his sitting room, and grabbed a cloth so that he could clean up the mouse's dirtied white fur. He had done this on several nights in the last couple of weeks, yet each time felt less and less compassion. He knew that was wrong, for it wasn't the mouse's fault, but he could see what was going on and it scared him. It reminded him of another time when this had happened. It reminded him of himself.
He didn't want to see the mouse slave become someone like him. There was no shame in obeying orders, he decided, but there was shame in enjoying doing so. Especially orders like that.
Wes knew that even if the mouse didn't enjoy what he had just done, he would enjoy the reward for having done it. The sad thing was, he highly doubted that the Pit Boss would give him what he really wanted, at least not yet, not until he had taken even more than his slave would be willing to give otherwise. But it wouldn't matter. The mouse would be so desperate for any reward that however small it would bring some pleasure, and soon he would do anything for that limited, and so precious of feelings.
Vinnie didn't move at all whilst he was washed, and kept his eyes low, not daring to meet those of the older man. When he was clean again Wes stepped back, contemplative. He was considering what could be done, what chance there was left of preventing history repeating itself.
He sighed. There simply wasn't enough time. There was never enough time in this place. In a few minutes he would be summoned to take the mouse to the castle, and if he presumed correctly then he was probably far too late to alter the course of events that would follow.
Vinnie swished his tail. He could sense that his carer, now his handler, was waiting. They were both waiting.
Decision made, Wes suddenly bent down and grabbed hold of the base of the little white snout, and lifted it so that the mouse's gaze connected with his own.
For a few seconds they stared at each other. Vinnie swallowed, wondering what the man was going to do. He looked so... determined... it made him think of that day when he had held above him that shining metal rod, the same emotions dancing around inside those dark windows into the unfathomable man's mind. He was hard to read. He was always hard to read; no doubt a tool for surviving down here, the mouse supposed.
Wes spoke, his deep voice equally indecipherable.
"Whatever happens, don't forget who you are."
He released his chin, and Vinnie could feel the lingering pressure of where those strong fingers had gripped him. An iron grip, from an iron-willed, iron-moulding man. A slave like him, now something more.
That's who he was now, Vinnie thought to himself. Something more.
The cell was cold, and dark, the stone sides impenetrable and closing around him in a near suffocating manner. He could feel those rock-built walls against his skin, so close they were touching him from all sides except one. The one side where the heavy wooden door stood sentry, controlling any access to within.
He was alone in that dingy dungeon room, but he knew he wasn't on his own. This was where they kept them, he thought, those others as tormented as he. Used as he was, abused as he was. He could hear them, their cries. Their suffering. He had joined them at last; they were equals now.
The walls were so close. He was afraid. He wasn't used to this, those solid walls. So long it had been in that cage, its bars no barrier to anything but he; or the mine, endless and un-walled; that this cell felt so, so small. Too small.
Too dark. He couldn't see. Now no one could see him. Behind closed doors he lay, unseen. Hidden for now, or forever, he didn't know.
It was cold, and dark, and he was alone, and all he could do was cry himself to sleep.
"Everything went as planned boss. He didn't even take a breath, just laid into him like you said he would. Even that other rat couldn't stop him."
There was quite a crowd now in the throne room. Flint was animatedly relaying the events of the evening, backed up by the various grunts of affirmation, and nodding heads of his crew. He seemed so impressed he probably could have carried on speaking for quite some time, but he was stopped short once the important details had been relayed.
The Pit Boss sat back on his granite seat, and pressing his stubby fingers to his chin looked thoughtfully at the other man. It was a good job that he was giving him news of a success, otherwise he might have been inclined to think his subordinate had doubted him. And that would not have pleased him one bit.
But he was feeling generous tonight; his slave whom he had been carefully crafting for so long had almost become what he intended, his masterpiece nearly complete. There was still some work to do to finish his creation, though, and the means to do so had practically handed itself over to him. Things were working out even better than he had hoped.
"Excellent, excellent. Save the other for now, I have plans for him. Have Wes bring my new pet to the castle as soon as possible. He will be expecting his reward for being such a good boy tonight."
The goons sniggered, and Flint's face gave away just how much he too was looking forward to this. He knew the Pit Boss wasn't going to give the mouse the kind of 'treat' that he was waiting for.
"Just curious boss. Now that you have him..."
"You want to know what i'm going to do with him?" The Pit Boss finished. "I don't know boys, do you think I should give him a job like I did the last one?" Their leader addressed the room, which responded in a cacophony of undecided fervour. He smiled. Guess it depends on what the job is.
"If you're worried that he is going to be installed out in the general populous, don't. One free slave is enough for you to manage I think."
If Flint had picked up on the implication he didn't show it. He merely grinned before he radioed through to Wes, and then began a short discussion with a couple of the crew on matters beyond those concerning the prison. The room slowly fell silent.
They waited. It wasn't long before the welder and his charge appeared. Wes was leading the mouse by his wrists, which were still chained, and looked quite nervous about the whole situation. For the first time in a long while he wasn't too sure what he was meant to do. What was his role to be now?
"Thank you Wes, you have done well. Very well." He kept his eyes down as the Pit Boss spoke to him, not daring to let his master see how he troubled felt right now. He was about to ask if there would be anything else when abruptly the man dismissed him.
"Attend to your duties, i'm sure you have plenty of catching up to do." The Pit Boss said with a curt flick of his wrist.
Wes cringed a little. There was a threat in that statement, no doubt about it. He turned to leave and exited quickly, realising now just how much he was afraid of the tyrant sitting on the granite throne.
Once he had gone Vinnie sank to his knees before that throne, and the Pit Boss leant forward to stroke him on his head. He could feel the grubby palms brushing against his antennae, and what once would have made his stomach churn in repulsion now only made him press back into the touch. He needed to feel it, he needed to know that he had done well.
Smiling again, the Pit Boss reached further to take hold of the iron collar and pull his slave up and onto his own knees. He embraced Vinnie like a child, and continued to caress his face with his free hand, the other hugging him into his extensive gut.
Vinnie nuzzled back into the hand and moaned softly. He wanted more; he had been conditioned to want more.
The pit crew were observing silently from the edge of the room, and their breaths caught as they watched their boss adjust his grip on the mouse slave and begin to stroke him lower down. Several of them smirked as they saw how the Pit Boss had him right where he wanted him, and that he was responding exactly how he desired.
Vinnie moaned again. He had opened his legs as wide as his clothing, and his positioning, would allow, and was pushing back into every touch. Inside he had no idea what he was doing, just that he knew this was right. This was what his master wanted. This was what he wanted. He wanted to please his master.
"Yes... there's a good boy..." The Pit Boss murmured, amused by his slave's willingness to let him fondle him. "Such a good boy... Did good work for your master today, didn't you?"
Vinnie nodded, and pressed his face into the filthy shirt beside him. For some reason his master's foul odour no longer really bothered him.
"Good work deserves a prize... does my little pet want his reward now?"
His mind lost elsewhere Vinnie only noticed the one word, the one he wanted to hear. He opened his eyes. This was it! His heart lifted; finally, he would be rewarded. Vinnie nodded, a little squeak of excitement sounding softly in his throat.
The noise drew a laugh from the Pit Boss, and subsequently from the onlookers around the room. Flint in particular looked positively delighted.
"Isn't that sweet... the little rat wants his treat..."
More laughter.
Oblivious to the knowing looks the pit crew were giving each other, Vinnie continued pressing his face into the Pit Boss's chest, making tiny noises in his throat, and doing what he could to beg his master to give him his long-awaited reward.
Then the hand was no longer between his legs. He looked up hoping that it would be holding a pair of scissors, or anything sharp enough to cut the threads from his bound mouth. But it wasn't. Disappointed, he gazed up at his master questioningly. He realised just how on edge he felt right now. Needy, even.
Noticing that his slave was searching him for his release, of either kind, the Pit Boss shook his head. "Oh no, that's for later, little rat. For when you have really pleased your master. I'll tell you what though, I can give you the chance to do so as your reward for today. How would you like that?"
Again Vinnie only heard the one word. It consumed him now, the need, and he barely even registered that he wasn't sitting on his master's lap anymore. He was being led away from the throne room by the man, his huge arm draped over him, keeping him close. He hardly noticed the muffled giggles behind them as they exited, nor did he fully comprehend that he wasn't being taken to the arena, nor the dungeons, nor even out of the castle. Not until it was too late.
He was being guided somewhere else, and though he didn't know where at first it slowly dawned on him that this was somewhere few others, slave or goon, had ever actually set foot.
The Pit Boss's personal quarters.
There was a tingling sensation. He thought that was what had woken him, but it was very slight the sensation. His antennae had buzzed like this before, many times, though previously only in very specific circumstances. Why it was happening now was puzzling, there was so much distress around him that he could hardly imagine why any one thing now would affect him more than the rest. And from his lightless prison he could see nothing anyway. Do nothing. Just lie there and listen, and wait.
It tingled again. Throttle tried to ignore it. There was no point in expending any energy on worrying, there was little he could do to help himself, let alone anyone else. Let alone them.
His two bros. They had drifted so far apart it was quite something he could feel anything anymore. Perhaps it was just a residual feeling, lingering in his system. It's probably Modo,he thought, he's worried about me. He saw them take me.
Throttle hoped his older friend hadn't done the same stupid thing as he had, because that really wouldn't help any of them. He recognised that now. They were beyond help, nothing was going to change. It was pointless even trying.
His ears twitched, his body alert. From somewhere beyond his cell door came a howling cry. He sagged. No doubt there would be many more times that awful sound of fear and pain would rouse him. How long until it was him wretchedly stirring the others from their meagre, restless sleep?
Another tingle, another cry. But he was too tired now to pay heed. He was so very tired.
Shush now, do as your master wants.
Into the soiled sheets he pressed his sodden face, unwilling to take in what was around him, and at what was happening around him. Happening to him.
His body sank into the mattress, it hard and unforgiving on his aching body, his sores and wounds not cushioned by it as the hulking mass bore down on him. His hands were pinned under his torso, the cruel metal of the shackles pinching his wasted wrists and into his bony chest. He groaned. It hurt. It burned. His fingers gripped worn material, as tightly as his muted jaw was clenched. He would have bitten down on the bedding too, had his mouth been free, but it wasn't and it took him most his concentration not to unwittingly bite his own tongue off instead.
His master hadn't wasted any time once in the room. Vinnie had barely got a glimpse of where the man spent his private time before he was stripped and bent over the large double bed, but he did see a fireplace that was already lit and burning well, taking the edge off the cold in the draughty, stone-walled dorm. He briefly wondered who had tended the fire; was it one of the crew, or another slave?
Briefly. It was time to move. No words were needed to tell him what it was expected of him now, and the moment he felt the hand on the base of his tail and the heavy breathing in his ear, he knew what he had to do to please his master.
He cried the whole way through. Silent tears slipped down his little snout and onto the fouled surface of the bed. He caught a whiff of vile odour as he sniffled, but soon he could barely even breathe at all through his misery.
His head pounded. There was a throbbing in his ears, the beat in time with his racing heart and double the tempo of the man pressing down on him, and into him.
Just as he thought he could bear no more, before his breath gave out, and before the burning inside became too much, it was over; and he was being pulled upwards and into the other man's arms, gasping as he rose. He continued to sob even as he was embraced, and as the hands ran across his dampened cheeks, then onwards over his shaking shoulders and down his trembling back.
The Pit Boss rubbed him until he settled, the action soothing and comforting. And in response he pushed in closer, desperate again for that gentler touch.
"Good boy" whispered into his ear. He had waited for those words. He had needed them. Vinnie made a small noise and nuzzled harder.
He didn't know what he was doing, only that he had pleased his master, and though it had hurt he knew that it was right, because it was what his master wanted. That it was what he wanted, and that he would be rewarded for it.
This was who he was now, and nothing else seemed to matter anymore.
He didn't know what he was doing anymore.