"Jones!"
Davy heard a voice call out. He groaned and coughed, wiping the sweat off his forehead and unknowingly smudging more soot and blood onto his face.
"YES SIR?" He screamed back to try and be louder than the fires and sounds of heavy machinery, his voice raspy and painful. It was all the work in the factory that was beginning to take a toll on his voice and lungs.
"The fires have stopped growing," the man snapped. "There's not enough coal to keep them growing and burning."
Davy frowned and felt the anger build up inside of him. He was one person, working as fast and as hard as he could, just as everyone else was in the factory. If that wasn't satisfactory, find someone else to work.
"WELL, I'M SORRY, SIR!" He yelled, not bothering to hide his annoyance and frustration. He knew that alone would get him in trouble but frankly, he couldn't care less. "WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?"
The man was furious at this point. Davy half expected that his face was going to be held to the fire again as punishment for his words, but instead he turned around, and made his way out.
"Figure it out, Jones! It's not my problem!" He yelled, keeping his back toward Davy the whole time, making it slightly hard to hear. But he heard the last part fine, it was as if all the machinery had stopped and the fires and stopped burning just so his supervisor's words would be heard.
"Boss wants you on the assembly line today."
It was as if everything had just crumbled around him at that moment. The factory was bad enough but the assembly line was something else entirely. It was in the next room over and thankfully, Davy had never stepped foot in that room before this moment. He set his shovel down on the ground and hesitantly made his way in the dark room.
No longer would Davy hear the sounds of the machinery and shoveling of coal into the fires. Now, the only sounds were of the tortures.
The rules were simple. Prisoners were brought down and put to work. If they worked, they worked and everything was fine. If they didn't and resisted their fate, they were sent down the assembly line where at each stop, some horrible torture would await them. They'd continue down the assembly line, only allowed to be free when they were dead or agreed to work, whichever came first.
Davy was led to his stand and began examining his tools. Most were tools he had never seen before and didn't even want to imagine what they were used for, so he settled on a standard kitchen knife. Suddenly, the bell rung and the assembly line began moving, now placing prisoners in front of Davy.
Each of the prisoners wore a mask to hide their face, it made it easier to torture them that way.
He was in the middle of the assembly line so each one of them were already bleeding and crying when they got to him. It was about halfway through the day where Davy got one who didn't do anything, they just laid there. Judging by their throat, which was cut open and bleeding, Davy first assumed they were dead. But no, the person laid there, still alive and breathing when Davy got to him. He could tell that the person was crying, but they didn't try to fight it.
On the mask, by the forehead, was written their crime. On this one, it said "TRAITOR". Davy let out a sigh, grabbing his knife. He was about to get to work, but suddenly stopped himself.
It was when they opened their eyes, looking up at Davy, frightened. The eyes were the only things that the mask didn't hide and the eyes were the only bit of humanity each of the prisoners had. And he knew these eyes.
"Oh, Peter…I'm so sorry…" he whispered under his breath and watched tears fill in Peter's eyes. He recognized him too.
Davy knew exactly what he was doing and he knew the cost of his actions, but that didn't matter to him at that moment. He laid the person down onto the assembly line, grabbing his knife. He saw the person close their eyes, accepting their fate, as Davy made four slits on the person's face. Two above each ear, and two on each side of the person's chin, cutting off the straps and pulling off the mask.
Peter let out a silent scream as the mask was pulled off his face. It seemed painful, but Peter was unable to make any noise at that moment, even when he tried. He couldn't help himself from crying and when he attempted to wipe the tears from his cheeks, his hands were met by the feeling of metal bolts in his cheekbones, causing the sharp nails to dig deeper into his face. It only made him cry more.
"Peter?" The voice above him asked softly. Peter sniffled and looked up, almost not recognizing the person in front of him. When Davy smiled, that was when he recognized him.
"Davy?" He asked, no sound coming from his slit throat. He could feel the tears reform in his face when he saw how injured his friend was. Impulsively, he tried to wipe his eyes again, but Davy grabbed onto his hands before he could.
"Don't touch your face," he warned. "It'll only make it worse."
"What're you doing here?" Peter attempted to ask him, unable to. Davy didn't even notice as he was busy making cuts along Peter's wrists and ankles, freeing him. Davy looked around, making sure no one was watching as he helped Peter off the line.
"Come on," Davy whispered, getting down on the ground with him and grabbing onto his arm. "I'm gonna get you home, but you just have to trust me, okay?"
Peter frowned but nodded as Davy handed him a handkerchief to wrap around his neck as he stood, getting back up to work. Peter sat by the Brit's feet, crying silently as he worked. Davy didn't know exactly what he was going to do to get Peter out, but he just knew that he needed to.
"I'm sorry…" Davy whispered and Peter looked up at him, sniffling. He reached over and pulled on Davy's pant leg, getting him to look down.
"I know," Peter mouthed, unable to make the noise. Tears filled in his eyes but he nodded, a gesture that told Davy and himself that everything would be okay. Whether or not that was true, they both needed to believe it.