ever wondered why Yag has such a good sense for counting beats?
Well now Rock knows
Something was happening.
The heartbeat had grown louder. Until now, it had always been barely in the distance, like ships on a distant horizon. He needed to strain to listen to it. Now, it had become loud. Painfully loud. Rapid pounding which boomed in his mind, threatening to flatten his thoughts and make him numb. That frequency and volume modulation had been Rock's only sensory input for… how long now? A day? A week? A month?
It's pretty loud… what's going on...
Rock, alerted, listened closely. Even though it hurt - he listened. He counted the beats carefully. Counting. Counting. 98 bpm… 101bpm… 106 bpm… He'd become quite good at counting. Boss would certainly be proud of him next time they had practice. That is, if he ever had practice again… if he ever got out of here...
Rocky… shhh… it's gonna be okay. Stop it. Concentrate.
Of course, Rock wasn't sure if it was a heartbeat. It certainly sounded like one, and he dearly wished it to be (since that meant he wasn't dead), but it had been his only hope since he'd been plunged into this inky world of darkness. A world without form or feeling. It was a world consistent solely of that pounding. Pounding. Pound-
*ssskkh*
*pheeewww*
What was that!? Breath?!
Rock grew excited. He strained to listen. He willed his formless body upwards through non-existent space. He strained toward reality. Reality strained toward him.
Do you hear that Rocky? It's breath. It's my breathing… fuck, I'm alive! I'm alive!
Elation tore through him. He clawed upwards. He rallied all of his being to chase that singular goal. Up! He tore through the darkness. He strained toward the source of the sound.
*Sssskkkkh*
*Pheeewww*
*Kkkkkkkaaauggh*
Rock paused. Suddenly concerned. Certainly. Breath. He heard breath… and choking? Gagging? What's going on. Was he in danger?
He scrabbled onwards, swimming through the murky blackness. Pressing forwards, yet unsure if he had moved at all. Still, in his panic, he persisted. The sound of breath being slowly squeezed out of his lungs drove him on.
(Alright… c'mon buddy… urgh)
He broke the surface. He cleared that murky ocean. Everything hit him at once, but he registered the pain first. It had been so long. He had almost forgotten the feeling. It threatened to destroy him.
Pain. Horrid pain. Radiating from every nerve in his body. it was a terribly unwelcome surprise, and one that Rock was thoroughly unprepared for. He hadn't felt anything in the past week, and for the first sensation after such isolation to be miserable, soul-crushing pain?
He screamed, and realized he could scream. He clawed at the arm strangling him, and realized he could move. He glared up at his attacker, and realized he could see. The smell of ash in his nostrils. The tang of blood in his throat. The rumbling pangs of hunger in his belly. He looked up, blinded by the light.
(Ah, shit… c'mon buddy… time to sleep)
A face. Blurry. He could hardly recognize it. It looked down at him with sadness and warm sympathy. He tried to focus, but his conciousness was slipping. He tried to speak, but there was no breath in his lungs. He tried to think, but the darkness enveloped him. He was dragged back into that inky, dark hell.
That face...He knew that face…
I know… that...
that's…
...
Broooooocky