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"Losing the possibility of something is
the exact same thing as losing hope and
without hope nothing can survive."
-Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

CHAPTER THREE

He craved them. So many things he could barely begin to list them all. Nosedive had been moved into a cell days ago…or what his mind interpreted as "days." The lack of a window or clock made it near-impossible to tell. He guessed he had been in the Raptor for three days, although, to his body, it felt like it had been weeks, months. He felt like he had aged a decade in those days. Physically, not mentally, he reminded himself.

From the time he had been chucked into the cell – really, it was more of a metallic shipping crate in appearance…a cell had the luxury of barred doors and maybe a window – there was not a time when he was not in pain. As he had predicted, his left shoulder had dislocated itself while he had been hanging. In a way, it had been a blessing. It had earned the duck his very own room, where he was free to stand and walk within the luscious space provided for him. More so, he had the chance to attempt to relocate his shoulder.

It had been a stupid idea, and he had known it. He wasn't a medical brainiac like Tanya, but, honestly, what were the chances of being offered medical assistance from the guys keeping him hostage? Trick question: there are no chances.

So, Nosedive had pressed against the wall of his cell, attempting through blasts of pain to place the joint back into the socket. After three attempts, and two rounds of near fainting, he had felt the pop and there had been some relief.

But now, the pain was throbbing and he was losing sensation in his fingers. "Call me crazy," he said, "but I will take that as a sign I screwed up."

He had not slept. Well, that was not quite true. Sleep came in spurts. Thirty minutes here, an hour there. The times could be off, but Nosedive prided his internal clock, and from how exhausted he felt, he would bet a pretty penny on those guesses.

The Saurians must have installed a camera somewhere to keep an ever-watching eye on him, because whenever he would fall asleep, pretty soon an ear shattering buzzer would sound, and, well, there was no sleeping with that.

He had heard that going too long without sleep would cause people to go crazy. REM sleep, that was. He was not quite sure what REM sleep was; Tanya had tried to explain it to him once but as soon as she had said "REM", a certain song had popped into his head and that was the end of that.

"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine," he sung to himself, recalling the song by that human band, R.E.M. "Wonder if they were named after the sleep, or the other way around. Nah, scientists wouldn't name something after a band. Although, Def Leppard does sound like the name of a wicked disease..."

He had been talking to himself a lot more. Dragaunus had told him that the entire point of Nosedive's capture was, essentially, to break him. Nosedive had set his mind to make that an incredibly difficult feat. After all, he had gone through plenty of psychological warfare back on Puckworld, while in the camps. He considered himself quite resilient, thank you very much.

Though, he had to admit, the physical part was getting to him. After all, it was not like a regular hostage situation, where the torture (Excuse me, he thought. Interrogation.) was designed to make the prisoner give information ("Not that I ever would," he said, defending himself to his imaginary audience). There was no point to the beatings but to hurt him. Siege was enjoying himself, too. So many times the Ducks had defeated him; Nosedive sensed some pent-up rage in the Saurian. The fact that he was able to crack jokes even as Siege's foot came into contact with his ribcage probably did not help matters.

Nosedive chucked to himself, then cringed, wrapping his good arm around his abdomen. "Ugh, the ribs. Forgot about them." He leaned against the wall, then pulled his shirt up. Purple and yellow peppered his skin, varying in size and shape, and wrapping around his hip to his back, where he was sure the pattern continued. "Lovely. Probably wouldn't be so sore, still, if I had a damn bed to lay on in here." He slid down the wall into a sitting position. "No bed, hardly any food, terrible hosts," he joked, nursing his sore shoulder. "It's like the opposite of a B&B. Be nice to, you know...check out sometime soon." He paused. "Poor phrasing."

He refused to admit it to himself, but Nosedive was beginning to falter – in energy, in humor, in hope. His team had never taken so long in locating the Raptor. The Saurians were never known for their intelligence, especially during one of their "plans," but it seemed as though they were laying low. After all, even a blip of energy and Tanya would have been all over it.

A low creak echoed throughout the cell as Siege pulled the door open. "Mm, is it that time again?" Nosedive asked, smiling up at the figure in the doorway. "By the way, since you didn't think to put a clock in here, let me just ask…how long's it been? It feels like this vacation is just never-ending."

Siege rolled his eyes. "Does it really matter?" he asked, pulling Nosedive up by the collar of his shirt until he was in a standing position. "Here, I'm feeling generous today. You can have the first punch." He grinned, jutting out his chin.

Nosedive glared up at him. His head was swimming. He had stood too quickly. He attempted to steady himself, then launched himself at the Saurian. His legs buckled and he spilled to the ground with an oomph. Laughter filled the chamber. "Poor duck, lost all ability to fight without your brother here?"

Nosedive frowned sharply. "Just...don't want to waste the energy," he muttered, struggling to regain his composure and stand. He placed a hand upon the wall, squinting at Siege through vision that was darkening, and quickly.

"Your choice." The punches, like they had been, were quick, hard, and randomized. By the time Siege turned to the doorway, Nosedive was slumped in the corner, breathing heavily. Blood was seeping from a cut in his temple ("Head wounds always bleed bad. No scaring me, there.") and his left eye was swollen shut. "By the way," Siege added, as he slid the door closed, "it's been three days."

"Called…it." His good eye fluttered closed, allowing sleep to envelop him.

A buzzer blared, and his eye shot open. He staggered forward on his hands and knees, trying to steady his heart from the shock. "God…" He looked up and cracked a smile. "Hey, they installed a window…" He reached his hand up to touch the glass. "At least I'll be able to tell what time it is."

He sat against the wall opposite the window, gazing at the blank, solid metal in front of him, a smile of relief on his face.

To be continued...