The smell of the sea was, amongst many things, one of the greatest comforts Tarzan could know. It was many times in his youth, when he didn't find himself in the comfort of his tribe, or his mother's arms, he could seek it in the spanning horizon before his eyes. From one end of his view to the other, there was endless blue, cold and dark, but kind as the water licked at his bare feet many times before.
It was a stark difference now in his adulthood. Looking down at what he'd been expecting to be his feet, unclothed, bare and without shoes, he was met with the visage of a strange, hard material. The soles of his newly gifted articles crunched solemnly at the sand, distinct yet distant to his keen ears, a soft whine at his departure. For some reason, looking out onto the horizon now, he didn't seem to feel that same comfort.
There was an odd foreboding, maybe born of a feeling he'd known, too, but seldom felt when he was in the company of the trees that laid sprawled and nearly endless behind him. It gripped him, whole and sharp and as unknown as what lied beyond the blue depths of the ocean below. Kala had always told him that this feeling had a name, a world to describe its cruelties, and in the time that it had taken him to board the small life boat, he'd found it, hidden in the confines of his mind.
It was fear.
Even beside Jane and her father, Archimedes, it didn't cease. Swirling and sickening, Tarzan tried to stifle it.
What reason was there to be scared for? This was the start of something new, the life he was always meant to have...right? It was odd, finding himself fidgeting as the shambled vessel carried them from the shore.
From home.
'No! I can't think like that! I'm going home, not leaving home! I should be happy! I'm happy!' Quickly, his body seemed to make an impression on the statement, and as if to affirm them, his face twisted into a forced smile. If he just smiled, he thought, then maybe he could feel better? He wasn't sure it worked that way, he pondered with doubt...but at the very least, he didn't have to worry Jane with his silence.
Looking to him, the woman seemed taken by his gesturing, giggling to herself as she spoke to him.
"Someone's excited, hm? I suppose I would be, too, if I were being taken from such a place!" At her comment, his head tilted, unsure of how to respond, both because he didn't know if he fully understood...and also because his vocabulary wasn't quite big enough to do so anyway.
"Such a place?"
What was that supposed to mean, exactly? He didn't...he didn't understand.
But she continued, just as they made it to the hull of the ship, a massive vessel colored in hues of old metals and alloys, cold and steel in comparison to the drowning earthy tones of the forest behind them. It was made apparent to him that he ought to get onto it, but how he didn't know...that is, until he saw a strange linked object be thrown from the side of the ship. Interlocking sections of wood were bound and connected, and it hung with attention for any onlooker to grasp it...but to what end, he didn't know.
Was that what they were going to use to get on?
Confused, his apprehension must have been obvious. Sensing his unease, Archimedes chuckled, grabbing one leg of the ladder, and placing his foot upon another. Swinging on it a bit, the older man, gesturing back to the ape-man, allowing to see how it ought to be done. But before he climbed up, he was given pause by Jane who'd spoken to him in the midst of this as well.
"Oh, Tarzan! You can't imagine what's in store for you!" She started, her expression warm with excitement that, despite his insecurity, Tarzan couldn't help but mirror, a natural trait he knew too well. It was contagious, seeing her espouse to him what they might do when they get back. Someplace called the "mainland" came to mind, a name they'd used to describe where they'd come from, but he hadn't the slightest clue what to expect. Part of him thought maybe it was just another jungle? A forest that looked like his but...had these big things and weird vines?
He thought the idea at least a bit comforting if that were the case. If it were like that, he wouldn't have to worry then, right? It would be fine and he and Jane could still be together.
But she wasn't finished, apparently, pulling him from his musings.
"You're going to see the world, and everyone's going to want to me you! Kings and scientists and famous writers - " Cutting her off in his own elation, Archimedes chimed in with his own list of names...all things Tarzan didn't understand, but he did his best to keep up.
"Yes! Darwin and Kipling! Queen Victoria!" The older man took off his hat as his heart soared at the name of the last one. Tilting his head, he wasn't sure why he reacted that way.
What was a "Queen"? Who was Darwin? Kipling? Were those fruits or -
"I haven't met her but I heard she's awfully nice." Jane affirmed, looking back to Tarzan, her voice softening, a calming effect for the nervous young man. But one thing struck him, a renewed fear filling him. All of these things sounded new and nice and everything...but he couldn't recall her talking about herself or her father. He'd grown to quite like the two of them, and the thought that they might separate...that he may be left to traverse this unknown place alone...it made him cold, unmoving as Jane stood before, unaware of the assailable tension to filled him.
He didn't want to leave them.
Were they...were they going to leave him?
No, they wouldn't do that...but he had in him the urge to ask.
If only to be sure.
Opening his mouth, he felt himself trying to string the words together, an uncertain task as his mind didn't quite understand all of them, but doing his best, he managed to get at least a few out, more than sufficient to communicate his concern.
"And...a-and I'll...be with...Jane." He said, his only hint of confidence stemming from the hopes that she would say yes.
And for the most part, she didn't look as though she would say no. In fact, an odd, bashful smile played on her delicate features, her soft, pale cheeks blooming a light red at the affirmation. Sputtering, she agreed.
"Yes, with Jane." Stepping back to the ladder, Tarzan watched as she fumbled a bit. Missing the footing with her hand, the young woman doubled back, a bit embarrassed.
Chuckling nervously, she tried to collect herself.
"S-slippery." Jane remarked in reference, though even Tarzan could tell that she hadn't even grabbed it to be able to tell if it had been, but that didn't stop him from rushing to her side, grasping her waist gently to help her ease up the ladder all the same. She nodded down to him graciously, and continued her ascent. Now alone with the other crew members, Tarzan hadn't forgotten it, the tingle of apprehension that writhed in his gut...and the striking loneliness that came, too. A slow turn of his head to, again, glimpse at the thicket of what had once been his home, the man could imagine...Kala looking out to him, too.
Everything he'd ever known was back there. His family, his friends...his home, rendered an unnamed, indescribable distance away. It was strange how quickly it set in, his desire to go back, but gazing back at the mountainous presence of the ship, he couldn't deny it...the presence of possibility that lied far beyond that of the branches and sanctity of what he'd known.
There was a life out there for him, a life as a human, a life with...Jane. He didn't really understand it now, but given time...he might finally be able to find his place, out there, in the strange places that waited for him. Sighing, he was certain of it.
The desire to know, to understand who he was...to be with Jane, with Archimedes...stood greater, taller, than his fear.
He could do this.
He was human.
This was what...what he was meant to do.
Gripping the ladder, its cold, wooden bars clinging back with wetness akin to the trees he'd gripped in storms too many to count, he'd only just gotten a foothold on it when he caught a glimpse of him, Clayton, rounding the last of the things from the water, objects he haven't a name for quite yet. The older man seemed to take notice of his eyes, even though Tarzan was sure that he'd been far enough behind him not to notice. A moment between them, shared through oddities in eye contact drowned with tension Tarzan couldn't describe, passed before the latter decided he'd had enough, smiling apologetically to Clayton before completing his own ascent, though he stumbled a bit up the ladder, the awkwardness of his shoes posing a bit of challenge to get up the sidling of the ship. However, it wouldn't take him long to scale it, and in just a moment's time, he was on the vessel.
But this peace wouldn't last.
Almost immediately, Tarzan knew something was wrong, though it wouldn't take him much to figure it out, if the estranged expressions on the crewmates were anything to go off of. They circled in close, and though he primed himself be ready to run, a voice, a Jane's voice, shouted to him, clear and troubled where his keen eyes could see her. In the arms of a larger crewmate, the young woman struggled, forced along the deck to a place unknown, but not before clamping her teeth down upon his hand. Between this, she called for him again, clearly distressed...a sound Tarzan knew he'd never want to hear.
"Tarzan! Tarzan!" She called, and he knew, despite his confusion, he had to act.
It was only a second later that the first of the crewmates made their attempt, lunging forward to catch him, and like instinct, he was quick to hop over them, using his greater height to land upon one of the cages. Its bars were cold, but just sturdy enough where he was able to grip it, checking frantically for where Jane and Archimedes could have gone.
He was afforded little time, though, the crewmembers giving a close chase as they scrambled up the sides of the cage, mirroring him from before...though without any of the grace that he could afford. It was with this grace that he managed to escape them a second time, leaping up and bounding up the other stacked cages until his hands gripped the strong mast, barely managing to hold on for the bare traction of his shoes.
He would have removed them if he knew how to. Jane hadn't shown him how to do that quite yet. If he could have taken them off, it wouldn't have made staying upright on the mast so difficult, but he managed well enough, the locale serving its purpose, a vantage he could use to find them.
He had to find them.
Quickly he looked here, and there, and again somewhere else before he heard here, struggling somewhere below. Of course, the crew weren't far behind, rabid beasts on his tail that made great strides up the mast as well. He wouldn't have long now, not until they met him up here, too. To say he'd have to do this quickly would be an understatement, but he did his best, scanning the wooden surface below before he spotted it, ghosts of her yellow fabric and cocoa hair, bundled and frazzled as, still, she tried to struggle.
She seemed to see him, waving down at him from below, he movements frantic as she and her father, grasped tightly in the hands of the same crew memebers, were ushered down below, into a dark place that Tarzan couldn't name.
But he didn't need to.
All he needed to know was that they shouldn't be down there, that they shouldn't be treated this way...that this was wrong. Something bad was happening, and he didn't like it.
He didn't like this at all.
Part of his thought it safest to get back to the jungle, the water, anywhere but here. He could figure all of that out when he got to them, but for now, all he had to do was get them away from those people.
Preparing to do just that, the young man primed himself, building up to a jump and just as he'd made the move to do so, he was pulled back. He could feel it, the hand of one of the crew upon his ankle, preventing him from getting to them.
Without hesitation, he kicked back, landing squarely upon the man's jaw, a resounding hit that only made him angrier...but he let go just enough for Tarzan to pull away. Dangling, he found a rope, pulling himself up upon the apex of the mast. Just as he would have within the sanctity of the trees, the mast was all he needed to push forward, a single, great leap far enough that he just made it, the ledge of the smoke stack all he had within his grip.
Any other time, it would have been simple, his weathered, calloused hands making easy work of the tree trunks, branches, and vines of his wild home, allowing him to traverse the land just as well as any ape could. It was a marvel, seeing him work, as jane would artfully put it, though admittedly, to him, it was normal. She never did seem to get enough of seeing him swing all about, catching branches with his feet, pulling himself in leaps and bounds to the canopies of the forest to gaze at the floor below.
It would have been so easy...if he just didn't have this things on his feet. He couldn't even begin to think of a name as panic set in, the soles of his shoes granting him little mercy or traction. They scrapped and danced uselessly on the side of the stack, metal scrapping leather with shrill murmurs until he felt it...the loosening of his grip.
The panic grew more as he could tell he was sliding, losing footing...lower and looser until, eventually, it was gone...his grip. There was a moment, just a moment, when he was able to look back just enough to see it, crates and boxes stacked, covered with a loose, green tarp. He knew immediately that those would break his fall, and that...they would hurt.
Sure, he'd suffered a great many falls, again, too many to count. He'd run into things, fallen into things, fallen into things...you name it. It was nothing for him to shake it off, the soft hands of the soil and flora granting him a dull landing when he did. Other times, his troupe would be around, somewhere close by so they would always be there to help him up when he fell.
That was the world that he knew. A gentle, warm, soft world.
But this was different.
There wasn't any soil, any plants...or family...anywhere. The moments in which he first broke his fall, Tarzan had never known a pain like this before. A rattling tremor from the impact, the feeling of coarse, worn, wooden planks pressing into his bones and muscles was enough to make him still with agony. Around him, embittered shards of wood from the crates flew about, dotting the deck with the corpses of their cargo. For a moment, he struggled to breath, crying out as a strange, new pain shot from somewhere lower on his body, but here, tangled into the green sheet, he couldn't find it.
Scrambling forward, it was there again, that feeling.
Fear.
He was hurt. Hurt really, really badly.
Clawing his way from the sheet, Tarzan looked back, down to where he though the pain was coming from.
And his mind couldn't make sense of it.
Below him, where his right leg had once laid straight beneath his pants, it rested strangely, bent and turned at such an extreme angle, it didn't quite look like his own. Reaching back, he didn't understand.
What...was wrong with his leg? Why did it look like that? Why, when he moved his leg, did it hurt so much? That was all that he could think about.
It hurt. It hurt so badly that he wanted to scream.
Something bad happened. This was bad. All of this was bad.
Frantic, he tried to pull himself forward, to at least get his bearings and find out where Jane and Archimedes was, but he wouldn't have the time to. For a moment there, he'd nearly forgotten that Clayton's men were after him.
It was a good thing that they wouldn't let him forget, though.
They were quick, swift, to begin their work, heavy, blistered hands falling upon him with enough force to bare down upon Tarzan, the young man barely managing to defend themselves before the manifestation of their anger covered him in full. Just managing to protect his head, he was able to, for the most part, block out the better part of their assault, the men laughing all the while.
This wouldn't be his first time facing off against more than one creature...be it human or ape. His troupe knew of his fragility, his weakness...his lower constitution. It had been Terk, for all of these years from his youth onwards, helping him, protecting him...fighting for him. She made it known that he was not to be messed with, and though for the most part, he still struggled to fight, he at least knew how to defend himself, to keep the damage to a minimum any way that he could. Sure, his arms would take a beating, sure, but he could at least -
An explosion of pain ripped through him and the thought, his leg finding its way beneath the stern boot of one of his men, and it came down again, the bone shifting horribly within his darkening, bruised flesh. It raised and swelled, pulsing with a vile anger his throat couldn't vocalize, rasping horribly out into the wet air.
All the while his mind tried to process the sensation, his thoughts...anything to keep himself from going under. But the pain...it was bad.
Why was this happening? What did he do wrong? Why were they doing this?
Why? Why? Why?
This continued for only a few moments later before he was strung up by his arms in their grips, slammed forcefully into a metal door that sent varied rings along his spine. They seemed ready to continue their work, and Tarzan felt himself at least trying to mentally prepare for it, though it was made infinitely harder by his dragging appendage, rendered inert and twisted by the force of one of their shoes. It made him sick, looking at it like that, but that didn't stop him from at least trying to struggle, his fear his biggest driver.
He just wanted to find Jane. He wanted to stop being scared. He wanted them to stop. He didn't like this. He -
A terrible sound rang out, and the young man's head shot up, terrified by the ringing pain that settled in his sensitive ears, Searching for it, his eyes fell on Clayton, far and away, the object that seemed to have made the sound still in his hands. From its smoking barrels, he lowered it, calling out to the ship.
"What's going on here?!" The older man asked, an irritable look upon his face. Between the echoes of agony that pulsed over the entirety of his body, he felt his spirits grow, a small hope shining forth.
Clayton! Clayton could help them! Struggling a bit harder, Tarzan tried his hand, the one thing coming to mind that he knew how to say.
"Clayton! C-Clayton, help!" He cried out, his desperation plain and full upon his face and in his voice.
If anyone could help them, it would have to be him, right? He was strong and he had that loud thing that could make them go away! Pulling forward, he tried to get to him, to fight them just a bit longer, though his head was beginning to feel...faint.
There was a moment or two of this, of Clayton giving him a strange look before he leaned forward, coming a hair closer to Tarzan, largely ignoring his troubled pleas from before. There was an odd, estranged amusement as he spoke, feigned ignorance giving way to unwavering dismissal, all expression the young man couldn't decipher.
"Have we met?" The older man inquired, eying the latter's eyes with a certain reservation.
What?
Tarzan...Tarzan didn't understand. Clayton...Clayton knew him...Clayton had been on the ship with him, Jane, and Archimedes, hadn't he? Searching back, he could recall it clearly, his face, his actions, the looks they'd exchanged. It was all clear to him, a distinction to the apparent disillusionment he had to be feigning. Taken aback, he couldn't understand why he would say that...and even less when the man continued forward, peeling his gun away to grasp at his chin, peaking it slightly so that he could look into the young man's eyes.
His touch was hard and rough, brittle fingernails digging into his skin with little thought to the stark bruises that began to appear on his marred skin. Catching his bewildered, teal eyes, Clayton cocked a winning smile, this time feigning recognition as his tobacco-laced breath laced within Tarzan's nose, forcing the youth to recoil with disgust.
"Ah, yes...the ape-man.." He added mockingly, grinning as the former yanked his chin from his grip, his teeth bared with frustration and pain, the notion of "ape-man" striking a particular chord with the man.
He didn't like that name.
He...hated it. The way that he looked at him. As if he'd won...as if he was better than him.
It made...it made him angry.
He...he didn't like him. No...he didn't like him at all.
"Clayton...you -" He started dangerously, his eyes betraying his intentions as a burst of energy sprung him forth, but it was short-lived, the older man quick to respond with the butt of his gun to his gut, knocking the wind out of him, a short, gasping breath all he could manage before he was sent into a fit of coughs. His lungs heaved, struggling to make use of the abundant air around them; it was as if he just couldn't get enough of it in before he wheezed again, trembling with strain as his remaining leg tried to keep him up. But he wouldn't have to fight for long, the two men at his side dropping his carelessly to the ground...and right onto his bad leg.
Tarzan couldn't help it, the breathless scream that parted from his lips and into the air. It was becoming harder now to keep his eyes open, a senseless fatigue pushing forth.
Why...was he so tired? He didn't...he didn't want to sleep.
Looking back to Clayton, he knew what he wanted to do, and it wasn't talking.
Not in the slightest.
But for the most part, Clayton didn't look particularly bothered, nor frightened, sheathing his gun upon his back and imparting a few words upon the youth, despite his waning consciousness.
"I am sorry for the rude welcome, old boy. But I couldn't have you making a scene when we put your furry friends in their cages. You understand...don't you?" Throwing up his hands, as if the situation couldn't be helped, Tarzan could understand just enough to allow the horror to set in.
They...he wanted to capture his friends? His family? That's what they were here for? Clayton...Jane...were they...were they all working together on this?
Something in his felt cold.
Was...was Jane lying to him?
But no...Jane...Jane was caught, too! He'd nearly bitten back at himself for thinking such a thing.
It was just Clayton! Clayton was the bad one! He was going to hurt his family and friends and capture them! Clayton was the -
"Isn't that right, ?" Clayton called out, and Tarzan's heart stopped.
No...no it couldn't be.
From the depths of the ship, that dark place he was so sure that she'd been trapped within...she came again, as fine and safe as the moment that she'd climbed onto the ship. Behind her, Archimedes followed suit, his expression at least mournful...though for hers, Tarzan couldn't begin to guess, not that he could think at all.
His mind was blank, unable to form even the most basic words as the woman's face crossed into horror as she gazed upon him.
"I thought I told you not to hurt him! This wasn't what I'd wanted! I - " From his wavering eyes, he looked from her, to Clayton, only a single thought coming to mind.
"Why?" He managed, his voice cracking, body shuddering with shock.
This couldn't be real. This...he was making her say this! Jane would never...Jane would never do this! He could trust Jane! She - he loved her!
And she loved him!
Right?
But taking this opportunity, Clayton leaned forward again, placing a heavy hand upon his shoulder, the youth to struck with shock to fight back against his touch. Granting him a dull look, the hunter began to explain, a matter-of-factly tone his beginning bargain.
"Why? The reasons are quite simple, actually. For me, 300 pounds sterling a head far exceeds the work that it took to reel in a brute like you and your little apes, too. As for your beloved, well...I'm sure you'll have plenty to time to speak to her, won't he, Jane?" He crooned, passing a knowing look to the woman, giving her cause to look away, conflicted.
But it wouldn't stop there.
Kneeling before him now, Clayton's smile only grew as he spoke again, his words almost passing through the young man despite his suffocating presence before him.
"Though, I would be remiss to deprive you of your credit in the matter. We do have you to thank, my boy. After all..." Leaning down to meet his ear, Tarzan shuddered at the feeling of his lips, moist and chaffed, grazing against his ear.
"...we couldn't have done it without you." He lingered near his ear for a moment longer before standing up, a coy look wrenched deep within his weathered face as he looked down at Tarzan. The thudding breath of his heart was almost too much to bear, giving him little room to fight back when he felt himself being pulled up, a command granted by Clayton's words.
"Lock him up the cargo room. Make sure he's secure. Can't have our prize getting bold, now can we?" Shooting a look back at Jane, the hunter set off, grabbing many of his men and setting off, the lifeboats hailing to the surface of the water below to, again, meet the arms of the coasts beyond. Each were armed...heavily armed, set to the teeth with guns and nets and all manner of weapon that Tarzan couldn't name...but he didn't have to.
He knew what was going to happen. He could reason what would happen...because of him.
All because of him.
Biting back a wave of nausea at the thought of it, he was forced forward, his body tensing as he did his best to keep himself up, doing what he could to keep up with the unrelenting pace of Clayton's men, the two making no effort to slow down despite his struggle to do so. Jane and her father stepped out of the way, hoping to get out of sight, but the young man didn't lose sight of them, turquoise eyes looking to them incredulously, as if to ask if this were real.
But in Jane neglecting to look back at him, he didn't need her to speak to know it was so.
Because this was real.
Being dragged the stairs despite his protests were real.
Being forced into the cold, dark underbelly of the ship was real.
Being thrown into a steel cage was real.
This was happening.
This was his reality.
This was -
The two men had since gone off somewhere beyond his vision, rummaging through some of the ships belongs before they came back to him, a third making sure he didn't try to wiggle his way from the cage in the meantime. Making it back over to him, the largest of the three kept him still as another, holding a sharp object, a clear fluid encased within, closed the distance. Something in Tarzan, despite his deep exhaustion, told him to fight, to bite, to claw; anything to keep that thing from getting anywhere near him.
And he did just that.
Much to the surprise of the crew members no less.
"Oi, still got a bite in 'em. Funny, seein' 'em fight." One voiced with amusement, another that had been standing by at the time. Parsing the moment, he came close, gripping Tarzan's arms, forcing them against his chest as the third, the one with the syringe, kneeled down.
Biting at him, snarling, hissing, the youth did everything he could.
'But it didn't seem to deter any of them in the slightest. Chuckling, he ignored his efforts, setting about gesturing to the largest of the three.
"Quince, think you could get it to settle a bit? I ain't too good with me aim no how; don't need to kill 'em and have Clayton up me arse about it." He complained, and the notion of it made him thrash more.
What was that supposed to mean? What were they going to do?
He didn't want to find out. He needed to get off of this ship, he needed to.
Without a word, the man who'd been holding him fast brought his fist up...and just as quickly, brought down upon Tarzan's face.
The young man could hardly make sense of it, the swirling mass of pain and disorientation that split his sense in two. Nothing was whole, head swimming with confusion as he tried to get his bearings, but it wasn't working. He'd barely been able to grasp what they'd said afterwards, feeling something fumble at the button of his pants. Groaning, he still tried, pulling away fruitlessly as the men managed to get them loose, pulling them free and down his legs, only to be thrown too far for him to see...not that he would have been able to anyway. There was a collective chuckle, hearty amusement at something he couldn't understand.
They were looking at something, pointing despite themselves.
Looking down, he couldn't help but notice it to.
He was nude. Naked from his waist down.
Unsure of what to make of it, or whether he could at all, Tarzan was only able to make a bit of sense of their remarks, finding their amusement at his nudity all the more baffling. It wasn't as thought he hadn't been before, naked, that it. There wasn't a sense of shame in it, being like that. Most of the others in his troupe had been naked by default, and it was even less to bathe with another.
So why they were making this out to be strange was beyond him.
"It's stark bare, 'innit he?! Not bad lookin' either..," One of them voiced incredulously before reaching out. He couldn't tell which one it was, which one had done it, but it was a strange sensation. Something odd...unknown...as one of them grabbed him, prodding at the tip of his flaccid member, prompting him to jolt at the contact.
'W-what? What are they doing?' He thought, confused...uncertain, watching as the man's hand traveled down his shaft.
Why...why were they touching it? He didn't...he didn't know if he liked that. He didn't like how...how this felt.
Squirming a bit, Tarzan voiced a tired, but forceful, warning, attempting to pull away.
No, no he didn't like this. He wanted them to -
"Oi! Try to pay attention, will 'ya? We ain't go time to play around right now. Keep it for later with we've got time, but just get it in 'em and let's get to the coast before the boats part! Come on, George!" The one who'd been holding his arms interjected, pulling the other's attention away, though it was much to other man's displeasure. Groaning, he looked at it for a moment more before dropping it, as if he'd been deprived of a toy or something likened to that. There was a sense of relief that filled Tarzan as it stopped, whatever that was called, but for him...it didn't matter what it was called...so long as they didn't do it again.
He could go without that.
It felt wrong...very, very wrong.
But he wouldn't have the chance to even make sense of it, not before they reassigned their attention, and he felt something stab into him, the prick of pain and the flush of warm beneath his skin. It was strange, how quickly the tiredness seem to come within just moments of them putting it in, and already, he could feel his grip on reality waning. Still, he tried to push it down, to fight against the lull of sleep that began to overcome him. A swift, losing fight, it was, as they stood, ditching him on the ground of the cage with little care as the same one from before leaned down, pressing his cracked, dark lips upon Tarzan's ears to mutter to him a kept promise.
"Don't worry, ape. We'll be right back to have our fun. You only 'ave to sleep for a little while." The man, apparently named George, whispered into his ear, biting it before pulling away, a tension that played into Tarzan's shoulder bundling up tighter at the thought of what they meant.
What did that mean? Why did he...do that?
Why...w-why -
"Nighty-night, ape. Have a good rest, now." They bid him mockingly, slamming the cage's door shut and trekking back off to the stairs. It was only a few moments later that the dark around him seem to grow as the light of the noon sun dipped behind the closing greater doors, before the click of the upper grate rattled his ears. Alone, now, he tried to pull himself into a corner, but his weak body wouldn't stand for it. Breathing out a shaking, strained breath, the young man fought, fought the shadow of sleep that threatened to swallow him. With his breathing slowing, he knew it wouldn't be long now, before he lost, but still, even in his lethargic state, he could manage only the pressure of his own thoughts.
How could this have happened? How could he...he let this happen?
Everyone would...every one of his friends and family...everyone would...
Pulling himself inwards, despite his aching body, he sought the comfort of her arms...of his mother's arms. If only to make this dread, this fear, rest.
Because he was scared.
So...so scared.
Unable to put it off anymore, Tarzan felt himself drift off, his world rendered dark and inert.