So I got a couple of new subscribers to this story.
I sure do hope you guys like it, the contents of this story are only going to get darker (possibly more disturbing) as we go along.
Oh and don't forget to review.
Corvo was held to an uncomfortable metal chair; his legs, arms and waist were tied down tightly by leather straps, to the point where blood flow to the cut off regions had stopped and they would become numb. On this day the guards dragged him out of his cell and brought him back to the dark interrogation room, where now a large portrait of the Lord Regent was hung on a wall and stood out in large size.
The Torturer, a tall and scarred bald man, held a mischievous grin as sparks from electrical rods in his hands flung to zapping charges. Initially, several guards watched as the torturer prodded the defenseless Serkonan on his bare chest, sending shockwaves through him and his body going into a spasm. Sometimes the torturer stuck a rod to him for a prolonged interval, shocking him to the point where saliva dripped from his bottom lip and his heart nearly going into cardiac arrest; he would be relieved once the rod is away from him and his frantic heart beat found its pulse again, but his body weak and dizzy. The torturer had even allowed for some of the guards to clench their hands into fists and lay savage strikes down onto the Lord Protector, giving him ugly bruises, a bloody nose, and a black eye that went well with his scabbed wounds.
It was when his vision was blurry, and he was nearly unconscious that he heard someone order the guards to leave. After they had cleared, he immediately found good sight of reality and caught the image of the Lord Regent, Burrows and High Overseer Campbell approach him. Not another Interrogation…
"No…" the broken man whispered in fear. "Not again." The torturer reached for a metal pipe that was resting on the edge of a fire, the tip burning bright orange. When the sadistic torturer brought the hot side near Corvo, he tried to pull himself away, his breath becoming frantic, his eyes widening in panic, and his heart beat racing again. Closer the hot point got, and Coro couldn't move back any further. "No…No!" It touched him, stinging, scorching, and melting the skin nearly to his rib bone. He roared in agony and his head dropped in exhaustion once the tip was removed from him.
"That's enough," the smug voice of Burrows said to the torturer; "Please leave, we must speak privately." Corvo heard the dropping of tools and heavy boots moving away just before the swinging close of a door. Corvo used what little strength he had felt coursing through him to lift his head and observe the Regent and Overseer standing around him. "There was nothing personal in this," the Regent said. "You just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time."
"What…what are you saying?" Corvo breathed, and he was taken aback by what the Lord Regent just said to him.
"You fool," the High Overseer scoffed. "You have been framed; you fell right into our plan." The saliva in Corvo's throat was caught there, and he choked in utter disbelief.
"Your early arrival complicated things," Burrows said. "But fortunately it worked for the best; everyone now believes you killed the Empress, and they want to see your head on a pike. It surely pulls the pressure off of us."
Corvo found the nerve to speak; "You bastards…why are you telling me this?"
"Because," Campbell said. "We want you to know the truth, more so since you are broken, pathetic, and powerless to stop us. We believe its…only appropriate that you know why such punishment must happen." Corvo scowled at them, angrier than his usual expression back when he used to be on duty. Campbell leaned in with an evil smirk; "It must hurt, doesn't it? You see, we knew of your…rather close relationship with the Empress; it was so obvious that it was abysmal for you two to have ever tried lying to cover it up." Campbell leaned in further, obviously trying to incite a reaction from the bodyguard for fun; Corvo's face tightened in locked away rage for every word the despicable Overseer had uttered. "How does it feel to watch her choke on her own blood, her life slipping away painfully as you watched helplessly, knowing you couldn't save the only person you have ever loved?" Suddenly, a fire erupted inside the chest of the Royal Protector, trying to lunge forward at the Overseer to ring his neck in now unlocked rage, but the restraints had held him to the chair.
"I'll kill you!" he shouted threateningly. "You son of a bitch, I'll fucking kill you!" Campbell stepped back and backhanded Corvo across his face.
"You are pathetic," Campbell insulted, as Corvo hung his head again.
"Easy now, Campbell," Burrows said, laying a hand on the Overseers shoulder. "We don't need to do any more damage; his head will roll tomorrow." Campbell retracted his hand back behind him. "There is no point fighting it anymore, Corvo; At least your pain will cease soon." But it won't.
"Jessamine…" Corvo muttered, sorrowfully under his breath. "Emily…my promise…" the pain that engulfs him now would never be cured by a guillotine. His soul will forever remain tormented and unloved, and the evil spirits may claim him to a darker place to be tortured for eternity. He deserved it; he failed his lover, he failed his daughter, he failed his family.
"Come now, Campbell," Burrows said, turning toward the door. "Let's leave Corvo in his sulking, so perhaps he could learn to accept his fate. For now, we have important matters to attend to." The High Overseer followed behind the Lord Regent, and they left the room. "Guards! Take the Lord Protector back to his cell."
All Corvo could do now was lay sideways, his cheek plastered to the floor while his eyes turned dry and red for staring at the wall too long. His head could no longer process anything, but one question: what was his purpose anymore? His soul was one of a dead and pathetic man, trapped in an abused and broken body and mind.
He didn't react, just laid there still and silent, as he heard the iron bars slide open and booted footsteps coming in. Then there was the light metal clank of a tray tapping the stone floor.
"You should eat, Lord Attano," a guard had said. "This meal comes from a friend."