Chapter Ten: Corruption
Warnings: Torture, Implied Animal Abuse, Blood, Violence, Sexual Humor.
-000-
Unknown POV
I walk into Travis's musty Computer Room. Lately, he hasn't seemed alright; his hair is a shaggy, unkempt mess, and there are dark circles under his eyes. "Hey, Travis."
"What is it, sir?" Travis asks. He sounds bored, though it seems more depressed to me. A breath smelling like alcohol escapes his chapped lips.
"First off, I'm worried about you. Even though I could care less about your well-being, I need to make sure everything is alright; you can't be very useful to me if you're a mess." I do care somewhat about Travis, though he can't know that. He'll just take advantage of my sympathy and start slacking. Travis is just an obedient tool for me to use. If I care about him too much, I won't be able to dispose of him if I have to.
"It's not anything you'd be concerned about. My wife left with my daughter because of this job. She thought I was having an affair since I wasn't making any money."
"Well, on the bright side, this is your first payday!" I say cheerfully, though the happiness is forced.
"Why couldn't you pay me sooner?" he asks. His brows furrow, and I can tell he wants to hit me.
"It's not my fault that Romano didn't pay the ransom money! You can blame him for that!"
"You promised me plenty of money to support my family! Now, I don't have that, so what is the point of doing this?!" he shouts. Spit flies from his mouth, and he rises from his seat with wobbling legs.
"I'll kill you if you try to turn against me!" To emphasize the point, I pull out my knife.
"I have nothing left to live for! And you can kill that stupid bitch of a wife, too! I don't care!" He began to storm away, but I grab his wrist.
"You're not going anywhere!" I pull him backwards and embed the knife into his right shoulder. He screeches in pain like no one I've heard in the month I've been here. Travis hasn't ever experienced the intense pain that the others have. He's like a virgin to torture. Even though he hasn't wronged me, why do I want to hurt him so bad? The others that I tortured were for a purpose, but him? All he did was oppose me, yet I want to see him writhe in pain.
"What the hell?! Why would you do that?!" Travis yells. Such a beautiful little voice. I have to hear more! I don't care if this is probably Mal that's influencing these thoughts; I want to see him suffer because of me!
"You're going to be punished for your rebellion, Travis!" I cackle like a madman. "Your screams are just too beautiful for me to resist torturing you just as I have with my other captives!"
"Don't do this to me!" he begs, realizing the hole he just dug himself into. Truly, someone that isn't gifted with immortality will naturally fear death, for it is an uncharted, uncertain territory. "I won't be nearly as fun as them! Humans are much more delicate! You'll probably kill me!"
"And that's what makes it so beautiful! You humans are very replaceable, though I'm a bit fond of you. I might not kill you, but I can't make any promises!" God, I'm starting to sound just like her. What has Mal done to me? Whatever, that's not important. What I want is to see Travis's suffering!
Quickly, I flip him over and bind his wrists together with a zip tie from the desk. Ah, his struggles are so adorable! Even though I've already hindered the use of his hands, I decide to use the taser on him for good measure. His muscles violently convulse at the sudden jolt of electricity coursing through his feeble human body, and I'm loving every second of it!
Once he passes out, I pull him off the ground and sling his body over my shoulders. With a little bit of magical aid, I carry him with ease to one of the hospital rooms in which I use to inflict torture on my victims. This time, I chose to put him in the same room I tortured Russia in since I never bothered to remove the chains. I also never bothered to clean up that pig's mess, so cakes of dried blood surround the area. Maybe that will add to the shock of it all. He'll learn his lesson and become more obedient out of fear.
I take my knife and cut the zip tie. Dragging Travis's limp body, I bring him to the wall and fasten on the handcuffs. I hope he wakes up soon. My thirst for blood is raging.
I slap Travis on the cheek in hopes of waking him up, but to no avail. Oh, yeah, humans are more fragile. I should have listened to him. No! Why would I listen to a traitor like him?!
In hindsight, I probably should've turned down the voltage on the taser. The voltage I usually use is good for nations since it only makes them weak so that I can move them without letting them completely pass out. However, using that same high voltage on a human could make them pass out for a little while with the worst outcome being death.
"You win, Travis," I mutter even though he can't hear me. "I guess you get away with your misbehavior this time, though I won't let you off so easy next time." I release him from the handcuffs, but an idea strikes me which makes me want to put them back on him. What if I kept him in the hospital? He wouldn't be able to rebel if I strip him of his privilege to roam as he pleases in and out the building, and it would teach him a lesson. Wouldn't he want to leave after I give his privileges back, though? Even if I didn't keep him here, he would still probably leave the second I let him go considering I stabbed him in the shoulder and tased him. I guess Travis is my new little human pet from now on.
I fasten the chains back onto Travis's wrists. Afterwards, I leave the room to get proper room stuff for him. I mean, he's a pet, not a captive. It would be wrong to not give him room-y stuff. Treating him like one of my captives would only make him more inclined to escape while treating him nicely would keep him around. Also, with his wife ditching him, this hellish hospital could easily be his little safe haven from the harsh reality of his broken home life.
I go into my bedroom and pull out two of my spare blankets and extra pillows. Since the first blanket is really thick and soft, it'll be his makeshift mattress for now. Since we just got paid by Ukraine and Belarus, I can buy him a nice little bedroom set up with his cut of the money. Wait, does he even need the money at this point? If I keep him here and treat him nicely, that should be payment enough. If he feels the need to complain, I could always remind him who his master is. Besides, owners don't give their dogs money for their company; dogs are payed through being well cared for, so it's a mutual relationship. Maybe I should give Travis a collar in order to shoehorn in the point.
Once I get the blanket and pillows, I go back into Travis's new room and set up his little bed area. With the money from both of Russia's sisters, Travis will be living like a king, so he won't even think about leaving! That would also mean I won't risk accidentally killing him during a punishment. Also, I could feed my captives, I guess.
My captives' concern about the nonexistent food supply could allow for me to make a game out of that. Maybe I could have captives sacrifice themselves in order to give food to their roommates. The whole rigged wheel of torture was just getting boring. It will also make sure I can get a steady income from concerned family members. And Mal won't have to pester me about not torturing the captors one-on-one enough. It's perfect!
It's a fresh new day for fresh new systems, so why not start that up now? Oh, I haven't bought any food yet. Well, that's nothing a simple trip to the grocery store can't fix, but I don't feel like going out. And now I can't just send Travis to do my chores since he's not allowed to leave the hospital.
I wish I could just get my groceries delivered here, but even if this place didn't look like a dump, how is someone not going to be suspicious of me getting my groceries sent to a hospital. I could pose as if I'm a busy nurse that doesn't have time to shop for myself. Wait, that wouldn't make sense! Why wouldn't a nurse just send the groceries to their house? Then again, these delivery people are mostly underpaid workers that stopped caring years ago. The constant barrage of disrespectful customers demanding that they get a discount on something as menial as a dented can lest they demand to speak to the manager has broken those workers' souls.
At that realization, I go to the computer room and visit the nearest store's website. I use their new online feature to pick out simple perishable foods. I purposely made sure to only choose those types of food so that the need for more food allows for more ample victims. And I bet those bastards would hoard their food if they had the opportunity.
I hit the checkout button and wait. After about half an hour, the groceries arrive. Beforehand, I used magic to enhance the appearance of the hospital. I never bothered to polish up the exterior before now since it would attract people in need of an operational hospital.
Now that I have some food available, it's time for the fun to begin!
-000-
France's POV
"Good morning, captives!" the man on the TV blares, startling me awake. "I have a special surprise for you!"
After rubbing the crust out of my eyes, I squint at the bright screen. With blurry vision, I can make out his arm holding up something red.
Even though it does not make sense, all I can see is Italy's bloodied decapitated head being held up by the hair like a prized fish. "Did you miss me, France? Hm? You let me die and all you could do is watch!" the severed head screeched.
My eyes widen and I begin to tremble. "No," I mutter, "I could not do anything to help you."
"You are a dirty liar, France! You could have at least tried to escape, but you were too afraid! What a coward you are! Look at me now, an ugly rotting corpse! It's all your fault!"
"France, are you alright?" England asks. I shake my head.
"I did not want you to die. I am sorry, Italy! I only watched you as you died!"
"Dude, calm down! Those are just apples! Takes some deep breaths or something."
A few hot tears trail down my face. All I can see is Italy's head. They are calling him apples even though that is clearly Italy! He has come to haunt me!
England, showing some rare kindness, crawls over to my corner and puts a hand on my shaking shoulder. I jump at the sudden touch, so he gently shushes me and rubs my back in the calming way a mother does to her child.
"It's alright, France. I know you have seen traumatic things in this place, but the thing you're seeing on the screen is not what your eyes are showing. That is a bag of apples."
I sniffle a bit and choke out, "So Italy is not there?"
"Italy is not on the screen. Italy is in heaven," he softly consoles.
"Yes, Italy is in heaven. He is with the angels and is happy, no?"
"Italy doesn't have to hurt anymore. I'm glad that he is in a better place. And knowing Italy, he's probably frolicking in a sunny flower field nude."
I chuckle. "That is true." After England's kind words, he goes back to his usual spot in the room.
England explains, "Now, in the real world, the man offered everyone food if a person was to volunteer for torture. Of course, the food is only given to the people of that room so it's not a free for all. I was considering-"
"No! You cannot volunteer yourself just for some food!" I argue.
"Yeah, you can't let yourself go do that! As the hero, I won't allow it. Hell, I was gonna offer myself just so you two wouldn't have to deal with any more than you already have."
England refutes, "As your older brother, I cannot let you get harmed!"
"I haven't had to deal with much of anything! I've been spared while you two have been suffering all on your own! Italy died while I recovering from my selfish suicide! I'm supposed to be there for people, but now France is traumatized from watching Italy's death without anyone to comfort him, and you killed yourself to feed us. I might as well return the favor."
I say, "Do you not realize that your torture would only cause us more turmoil? Every bite of food would be like poison because it was earned from the blood you shed."
"We all need to be strong in order to escape and without food our bodies can't do their very best. Besides, isn't sacrificing myself for the good of others the definition of a good soldier? I mean, our men fight for the sake of our countries and sacrifice their lives for the well-being of our citizens, so I think I'll be fine dealing with a bit of torture for you guys. And with our escape plan, keep in mind that the masked guy is not only a nation but also has strong magic abilities. How will we be able to fight back if we're weakened from starvation?"
"I have magic too!" England points out.
"And exactly why haven't you been using it?" America asks.
"To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure. My best guess is that this place has an anti-magic barrier that prevents magic users other than himself from using magic within the field. It might also be why none of the other magic nations haven't been able to trace me by my aura since magic also can't reach outside of the barrier. At least, that's my current theory."
"That sounds logical. I was wondering why you had not already used dark magic to summon the devil," I quip.
America butts in, "Okay so it's agreed that I volunteer myself?"
"Just because I dabble in magic does not mean I'm a Satanist!"
"With an ungodly white completion like that, I had assumed that you were a demon. My mistake!" I sneered.
"So is that a yes?" America asks.
Distracted by our conversation, England says, "Yeah, yeah, make sure to include your brother. And I am not that pale, France!"
"Were you even paying attention to America?" I ask.
"Are you implying that I don't listen to others?! God, you're always out for me, lover boy!" America snickers at the comment.
"You two never changed from when I was a kid. Still telling me to include Mattie like when I would go out to play."
"Maybe I would not be at your throat if it you admitted your love for me!" I bark out without consideration. He really should pay attention to what little America is saying, but maybe his self-sacrifice will be alright. If he wants to do it, he can go. I will just keep the black sheep occupied.
"What? I don't love you in the slightest! Someone as shameful as you probably has me in the center of your wet dreams, stupid frog!" he shouts.
I sneer, "Oh, really? You only wish for me to be climaxing from your image! Your ugly eyebrows are an immediate turn-off if anything!"
A beacon of light pours in from my right as the door opens with the man, for once, not tasing us. Instead, he stares blankly into the room, waiting for a response.
America, standing up, raises his hands in front of him and smiles, though his eyes show sadness and fear. While that man cloaked and disguised wears an unsightly plastic mask, America's artificial smile is a mask on the verge of breaking. "It's me that you want. I volunteer to go through whatever sick shit you've got planned if it means they get to eat."
"Oh, perfect," the cloaked man coos. "I have yet to torture you, and I can't wait to break you in!" Hastily, his gloved hands strangle America's pale wrists with a rough rope. America does not put up a fight and instead stands still despite the door being left open and ready for the taking. His statement about us needing to regain strength is unfortunately accurate. I cannot even try to stand with my body trembling as hard as it is. Whether it be from fear or low blood sugar, I am not strong enough to challenge that man.
Before being taken away by the man, America turns to the both of us and gives a pitiful smile. "Please don't cry to much when I'm on the screen. It's already bad that I'm going to be in pain, so make sure not to look if it's too hard on you."
"America, you can't do this!" England yells, stretching his hand out to reach America. "I won't be able to live with myself if you get hurt on my watch!" Shaking, England tries to stand up to take his place, though he stumbles like a baby deer.
"Save it, big bro. Just let the hero handle this for now." And with that, he is dragged away. The door slams shut and clicks, leaving everything silent.
Glossed over eyes begin to flood with tears as England breaks down. He lets out an anguished scream and slings his fists into the ground in defeat. Intense sobs wreak havoc on the already weak man. Snot and tears quickly drip onto the cold floor.
"Why him?!" he shouts. "He's so young, so naive! He's clueless as to what hell he just plunged himself into!" America saw the tortures just as we did. He is aware of the danger he is in, though he is going in anyways.
"Take me instead! I deserve to die if I let him suffer in order to feed me!" All his screams fall on deaf ears since America has already been taken. We're so helpless in this mad world.
"What kind of brother am I if I let him get harmed by that man?! Forget it, America! I'm going to scream in agony with you because seeing your pain gives me pain too!"
-000-
America's POV
I know that what I'm doing is undeniably right, but why does it feel so wrong to go through with this? He can give me whatever he wants if it means helping those two after all they did to help me out, but everything in me is screaming to escape from his evil grasp. I don't want to feel pain, but there has to be some painful sacrifice in exchange for what they need.
"What do you have in store for me?" I ask, smiling despite my growing fear.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything," he snarls, "You'll find out soon enough."
He directs me to a pristine, white hospital room. The pungent smell of bleach burns my nostrils at the first breath I take in. Although the room smells like it's been thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom, the floor has remnants of a red substance staining the white floor. The only thing in the room is a post and some boxes covered by a cloth. The man turns me around and ties the end of my rope to the post. For some reason, to my right, there's a glass pane that has a different room.
"Does this room ring a bell?" he asks in a dastardly tone. What the hell is he talking about? I've never seen this room before. "Never mind, you were asleep during the execution. It doesn't really matter all that much where you are sitting anyways. What matters is the little friends you have to keep you company." He lifts the sheet to reveal three cages. Each holds an angry, snarling dog with foaming mouths.
"What the hell is your problem?!" I yell. "If you're going to torture me with animals, at least vaccinate them! Those poor dogs are suffering, you bastard!"
"They were going to get put down anyways, so I don't see the problem with keeping them around longer in order to torture you."
"How would you feel if you were deadly ill, but no one granted you mercy and put you to rest?! It wouldn't feel great, would it?!"
"Oh you shut your mouth! I'm giving them a tasty last meal before I send them off to get euthanized."
The man pulls a jar of peanut butter out of his pocket, and happy memories of Liberty flood my mind. Before all this, she loved to go on walks to the park with me, and I would treat her with a scoop of peanut butter for being such a good girl. She's probably worried sick about me. Mattie better be treating her like a queen while I'm gone.
Instead of treating the dogs to some of it, he instead spoons out some and rubs it on my chest.
"Dude, what the hell?! Give the dogs some! I can see their bones!" I shout.
"Idiot, can't you tell that you're the food? Those things' minds are gone and all they know right now is that they're hungry. Fortunately, you'll get to be their little treat."
I get that the dogs are going to rip me to pieces, but my experiences with dogs leads my mind to imagine them merely licking the peanut butter off. Then again, my mind is probably trying to numb itself to the trauma that I'm about to go through. I can just do the thing I always do and detach from this. It doesn't feel as bad when I distance my mind from my body.
He leaves the room and I can already feel the dread trying to crawl up on me. I'm all alone with no one here to help me. There's no hope, so I might as well just let it happen. No one can prevent this, so why fight at all?
Foamy snarls, aching growls, and musty fur cloud my senses. Rotting garbage lingers on the fur of the strays and slithers up my nostrils. They're so hungry, and I'm the food. Eager claws scratch at the metal bars like nails on a chalk board. It's like sitting at the top of a rollercoaster before the drop, only I'm not in this for fun.
The drop comes as a loud beep fills my ears. At the push of a button, the cages are opened and they jump straight towards me.
Plaque covered teeth sink into my chest, hack off a chunk of flesh, and shred up the meat. Not even aware of myself, I screech. My nervous system is on the fritz blinking with the red warning signs of pain. Black nails burrow into me digging out more of my flesh until they bury their bloodied snouts into the hole they made and gnaw on the still-connected flesh. My vision is blurred by tears, blending my surroundings into a mix of red and brown. Hardy gulps from the dogs jab at my ears accompanied by my pain filled screams. Saliva mixes with my blood, turning my chest into a sticky soup.
Meat gets ripped out, tearing at the ligaments as salty tears add to the soup. Spots are already starting to cloud my vision. It would be so nice to pass out already. My eyes start to flutter, but they snap open and bulge out as one of the dogs reaches my ribs.
"Fuck!" I yell. Burning pain hovers over the area. I yell again as they keep gnawing on the bone until they manage to jerk it out along with cartilage and flesh.
A flash of white blankets my vision. I bang my head on the wall with a wave of nausea following. My body, already weakened from hunger, can't handle any more. My eyes don't even try to focus before I slump down where I am.
-000-
Unknown POV
I can't go on like this! I'm going to lose my mind to her all over a foolish grudge!
"You know I can hear your thoughts, idiot!" the demon herself whines in annoyance. "Besides, I only took control for a little while because you were being a pussy!" Her voice sounds akin to a wood chipper to my already aching head, worsening my growing headache.
Memories of an old reset coarse through my head in a flash. Engravings on my chest burn despite them never being on my body in this reset. "Don't say that word to me!" I yell aloud.
She snickers. "Aw, poor wittle baby can't handle it when I call him a mean name! Fucking tragic," she snaps, "That happened ages ago, so when are you going to get over it?"
"It's you that is the problem! I'm fed up with being your plaything! I'm done with this! Get out of my body and get out of my life!" I scream, smacking my head against the wall.
Her voice drops from the normally high-pitched level to a normal tone. "I told you the consequences that would come from such a rebellion, but alas, you are a mere infant compared to my eons of life which leaves you with little experience. Fortunately, your body itself is useful, though I find the mind attached to it incredibly annoying."
I refute, "I don't care anymore! I've died thousands of times, so go ahead and add another one to the collection! I tried to save people who don't care about me, and I'm tired," I drop the anger for a moment and sigh. "So damn tired."
"Aw, that's cute! Our interactions in the past were like a game of cat and mouse. Has my little mouse already lost motivation? I figured you would at least fight for another century. Do you realize how long you cycled through time?"
"I got tired from counting after around a hundred resets. It's been a long time fighting, huh?"
"A millennium, kid. You've been at it for a thousand years. For your species, that's nothing to sneeze at."
"Has it really been that long?" My words trail off into nothing important. It's no wonder I'm starting to break down with it being that long. One thousand years sure passes by quickly when you've cycled through billions of failures. I spent all that time trying to save them, but I never succeeded.
"They are ungrateful for the work you put into saving their lives! You have to remember why you did this in the first place! All the sacrifices you made, but they paid you back by leaving you to die!"
"But do they deserve to die?" Slowly, I'm beginning to realize that, even though my reasoning seemed fair in the beginning, I shouldn't be killing the people I spent so long trying to save.
"Stop that! We need them to die! All of them deserve to perish! Don't you want to live in a world where you're the supreme ruler?"
She clouds my head with fantastical images of people bowing down to me. Everyone respects my authority and heeds to my every beck and call. I'm on top of the world and no one can stop me, for I am the greatest man to ever live. This scenario could never happen! She's just polluting my head to get me to keep obeying her!
"I know exactly what you're doing, Malice!"
Disappointed, she sighs. "That's a shame. With a mind as feeble as yours, I was hoping I didn't have to do this. Of course, you being an absolute idiot, you had to push me to my limit. I'm going to lose my mind too from the utter exhaustion you keep putting me through. You know, I love to punish you, but it's just so tiring! And, if you decided that you're fed up with me, let me return the favor."
Trickles of what I assume to be magic gently drip into my veins with a slight sting. Unlike magic I've used, this magic looks like droplets of ink shrouded in circles of smoke. The purple veins in my wrist darken as the magic spreads, changing the sting to a fiery blaze. Skin at the tip of my fingers fades to gray as I let out a wail.
"Scream on, little bastard, because the corruption has only just begun!" Her shrill voice is like murder as it makes its way out of my head and escapes through my lips, blending both our voices into one. "Just think, your captives will receive the same pain once I take the seven vessels you owe me!"
"No one should suffer anymore! I'm tired of hurting!" I scream to the heavens. Whatever godly force rules over has turned a blind eye to my pain, yet that shouldn't be an excuse to become a dealer of ultimate suffering. To let them become her playthings would be the worst fate imaginable. Over all this time, I have become corrupt because of her toxicity. Her tainted demon soul has ruined any remaining purity left within me.
"I tried to keep you obedient, I really did. All the wrath that I instilled into you should have been your driving force. It worked the first time I had to reel you back, but you decided to rebel. Despite this, you will still be the vessel for the original sin since it's your pure soul that I used to strengthen the power of the seven."
Tears cloud my eyes as my rage increases. "I refuse to be your puppet of destruction! Kill me and damn my soul to eternal suffering, but don't use my body for your stepping stool to corrupting humanity! I don't want my short existence to be reduced to your evil!" The more I scream, the worse the pain gets. Tears fall freely as the magic flooding my body worsens, and the inky black shoots up my arm. My entire arm grays and bits of skin flake off from the sheer force. A shriek alike to her voice shreds through my vocal chords until my scream isn't my own. I try to suck in a breath of air but my lungs feel like they're filled with tar. Just like the first death I ever experienced, the first death and the original timeline before the enchanted watch reset hundreds and thousands more, I'm drowning. It looks like I've finally come full circle. Will time finally let me rest forever? If so, I don't deserve it. I belong in Hell.
With the remaining strength I have in my arms, I rip off my bloody mask and look at myself for one last time. My once tan cheeks flake away as gray spreads over my face, and my once sea blue eyes have become a glowing red. The only thing still looking like me is my hair, yet even that isn't mine. My blond hair reaching down to my thick eyebrows is all from my big brother, the one that gave me the pocket watch and cursed me to be a slave to time, England.
A surge of magic stabs through my chest and sends the fire throughout every remaining bit of me that is left in my aching body. As more of it cascades through my bloodstream, a pang of drowsiness hits me. Is this finally the end? Bits of magic seep into my brain and burn into every neuron within.
"I'm almost done taking you over, kid. Take a good look at yourself before you completely lose control. Take a good look at the little boy before the tragedy. Take a good look at Peter."
That name sounds familiar. Is that me? I think that's my name, but it's been ages since someone called me by my human name. In most of the resets, I was disregarded. And now, the disregard for the boy who was once Sealand will be replaced with shame. My rotting little fort in the middle of the sea will be a symbol of suffering.
In a final burst of pain, every nerve in my body is set off. Like a flame striking gasoline, my entire being is in agony. The burn has become an explosion of torment. Pitiful attempts to scream don't register to my body. Instead, the drowning feeling remains as a reflection of myself smiles at me.
"It's over for you, Sealand. I bid you farewell. Don't worry, I won't let you die. Instead, I'll give you a front row seat to the end of all times. You can see the world through your eyes, but everything else belongs to me. Have fun taking the passenger seat!"
-000-
A/N: This series isn't even close to ending. Actually, this is only the beginning. While the first question raised has been answered, there will be plenty more to come. Sorry about not updating all that much. Sometimes life weighs you down and you just have to get used to the thought of never amounting to anything. Mental health is in the gutter, energy is in the gutter, and self-confidence has been stewing in the gutter for years. I hope I'll see you in the next chapter, but I know most of you have probably left considering I never update. To you, I'm just another content creator among billions of others.