#vengence

Omega is the best wing woman. She is the first pick Tech makes when handling his daily rounds through the market square. He’s always in search of mechanics he could utilize as well as necessities for the group while Omega is gravitated to the food and hand-crafted toys. You sell both at the stall owned by your uncle. 

When your parents were killed, he reluctantly took you in. He hardly ever makes an appearance where you work, giving you complete control over how sales are made. Despite your disheartening background, your attitude is always so chipper. Your sweet and happy disposition is a stark contradiction to the blooming of bruises on your arms and shiners alternating eyes every other week. You are never honest about how they occur, thinking of new excuses on the fly like running into doors or tripping on stairs. Though, the last time Tech checked, stairs and doorframes don’t leave impressions of fingers in the skin.

“How much for this one?” Omega lifts a little mudhorn carved from bone and inquires about its price.

“That one there is thirty-five credits. Only because it’s made of real bone.” You tell her while advertising its authenticity. 

Omega counts up the credits in her pouch, disheartened when she doesn’t have enough. “How does fifteen sound?”

You hiss, sighing when you are confronted with a problem. “Well, my uncle would be pretty upset if I sold it for even one credit less than that.”

“How about a trade?” Tech finally meets up with Omega, his pack filled with parts and tools he’s aiming to bring back to the others. He plucks a power core in pristine condition from his pack, offering it to you for the mudhorn. It is refreshing to join the community amidst his turbulent life, looking forward to seeing you here every day. You are known to give him free tools, damaged goods or items closing in on their expiration for a fair price.

“Oh, well uh. Sure. That would be fine.” You accept the trade, realizing that just one of these cores is equivalent to a hundred mudhorns. “Thank you.”

“It is no problem.” Tech adds nonchalantly before turning to address Omega. “Are you ready to head back? Hunter’s probably waiting on us so he can start dinner.”

“I’m ready!” Omega hops once, excited to be reunited with her brothers. “See you again tomorrow!”

“Until tomorrow!” You cheerfully wave at them when they leave. Tech makes it to the end of the market strip, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to admire you as he walks. His attention goes from Omega waving her mudhorn around then back when he sees someone aggressively speaking to you, your head bowed while they shove the power core you received from Tech in your face. Your uncle seems to be displeased by the trade, preferring cold hard cash instead regardless of the substantial return on such an investment.

Omega is far too enveloped with her new toy to notice, but in the few seconds Tech captures his glances, he witnesses you get slapped to your knees. Your face is forcibly moved to where you cannot hide your disgrace and you notice that Tech happened to see what he shouldn’t have. Mortified, you retreat into the tent where you are then followed farther into the home. With Omega at his side, he internally fights with himself on the notion of going back to confront the person who beat you. Deciding to keep Omega safe, he thinks it may be better to wait until morning.

As the night goes on, he cannot shake the feeling that something would happen before the suns rise. This is far too big a can of worms to let anyone else in on, so he decides to sneak away at meal time in hopes to find you.

Tech sprints through the cold desert night where the market square is meeting its curfew. Upon arrival, he promptly catches you fleeing from your stall, an arm over your face as you run. Your uncle is causing a commotion by cursing and throwing things at you, but no one even bats an eye as they’ve been bothered by this scene since the day your tent sprung up.

You arrive at an abandoned grain mill, the same place you always go when you don’t want to be home. You would have never considered that Tech would find you, startled by his unexpected presence. Stifling your laments, you try to cover yourself but the task proves difficult when your clothes are barely hanging on. You go for the nearest rock, but it’s actually a dried out piece of clay, raising it above your head so you’re ready to weaponize it. 

“I-I’m not going to hurt you.” Tech discloses while keeping his distance.

“Oh. It’s you.” You drop the clod and it falls with a crumble beside you. “Your name’s Tech right?”

“Correct.” Tech inches closer when he sees you disarm yourself. “My little sister Omega and I frequent your stall.”

“So, that’s your little sister.” You wonder what that must be like. “You’re lucky.”

“Don’t I know it.” Tech smiles at the thought of her; just a joyous child living every day like it’s her last.

“What are you doing here?” You make full eye contact now, adding to the severity of your question. “You following me?”

“No.” Tech says, realizes he doesn’t want to come off as dishonest. “Well, yes. I wanted to offer my help if you need it.”

“Help?”  You scoff bitterly. “No amount of help could remedy my situation.”

“Even if I can’t offer assistance, I am willing to offer my ear.” Tech slowly makes his way to sit across from you in the old, dusty and vacant room. He finds a chair while you remain sitting on the floor with your back against the wall. Tech can see the glistening of tears making patterns down your cheeks in the dark. Popped threads leave broken strands across sections of your clothing where sections meet seams, still wearable but stretched and distressed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You begin throwing soft clay stones a few feet in the air to watch them land and disintegrate into dust to create an outlet for your frustration.

Tech nods and lets the beat of silence rest for a second before asking, “Does he hurt you?”

“Who?” You toss another stone while not looking at him.

“That man.” 

“He’s my uncle.” You chuck a bigger one higher with more force; its impact with the ground far larger than the previous clods.

“Family can still hurt family.” Tech doesn’t let you make excuses for what should never happen in the first place.

“Yes.” You admit irately, throwing one more with all your might, wiping off your hands feeling yourself get furious. “All the time…”

“So, you come out here to avoid him?” Tech’s question strikes your ears with offense, and though you know it wasn’t his plan, you’re aggravated by this cold analysis.

“What else am I going to do?” You motion your arms in the air in defeat.

“I’m sorry.” Tech thinks he’s saying what you want to hear, but the way your mood has shifted since your last interaction tells him that the mask you demean yourself to wear is not a true reflection of your heart. You are broken and vexed, but you have never taken it out on anyone, until now.

“For what?” You sneer at the words that mean nothing in your experience. “It’s not like you’re the one who comes into my bedroom every night and locks the door.”

Tech is appalled by hearing this in passing. The crimes done to you, you wear them on your sleeve and yet not a soul cared to identify them before Tech. He doesn’t know what to say, leaving you to fill the empty space and continue, letting yourself ramble. “You don’t punch me. You’ve never choked me. You’ve never stolen my innocence or the ability to trust. Why the fuck would you tell me you’re sorry?”

“I didn’t mean to-

You stand up and the shuffle of your shoes interrupts him. Your motions are fueled by the hate of your uncle. You come out here to be alone, not to be put through a psych eval.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, okay? Just leave me alone.” You advance to where Tech stands near the exit, bumping shoulders as you leave. He stumbles from your impact but lets you pass.

“Look who’s back because nobody wanted them.” While ignoring your uncle, you go to your room to fill a bag like you’ve done many times before. Sitting by your closet is a pack that has some essentials you keep in it, frantically reaching for last-minute belongings you do not wish to part with.

“Do not walk away from me!” As you stuff things inside, your uncle pushes you down and you fall into your bed. His rough fists collide with your back. The contact only lasts for a short instance, but you’ve never been able to feel like his hands have ever come off you. “You do this every couple of weeks like clockwork, but you’re too much of a coward to actually have the sense to leave.”

“If mom were here, she would want to kill you herself for treating me this way!” You flip over, supporting yourself on your elbows so that you’re ready to use your legs to defend yourself if need be.

“But the good-for-nothing bitch isn’t.” He gets closer but you shove him off of you with a sturdy kick of your foot to his chest, although this only makes him impatient. “That’s why you’re not going anywhere.”

“Not this time.” You sit back up, taking the pack in your hands again but your uncle stops you by knocking it out of your grasp.

“You have nothing. No one. Who’s going to give a useless piece of shit like you a place to stay? A job?” The painful truth reminds you of your misfortune. He may be right. The only way out of this might be far darker and less triumphant than you hoped. “I’m your only lifeline, sweetheart. Might as well accept it and stop resisting.”

He tries to climb on top of you like he’s done countless times before, ripping off the remainder of your tattered shirt to reveal your underclothes. With that sinister look in his eye, you see an evil in him that tells you his very essence is demonic. It is not revealed until now that you swiped one of Tech’s blasters before entering your home, yanking it from your waistband at the small of your back. You know he would have never given it to you outright. Maybe he would have, but you couldn’t take the chance. You can apologize for it later if you manage to live through this.

The click of blaster being primed and ready to fire resounds, bringing your uncle pause before he commits to another move. You haven’t used a gun before. It doesn’t seem like there’s much to it. You just hope and pray you are able to execute. “If you touch me again, I swear by the Maker I will end you right here.”

“Well look who is brave now.” He backs up with his hands raised, giving into your aggressively requested space.

“Brave isn’t the word for it.” You begin to break down when confronted with the pain and agony he has brought onto you since you were a little girl. The hate is boiling over and you can no longer contain it. The rope has snapped and your chains are broken. There’s no turning back now. “I just can’t forgive myself for lacking the conviction to do this sooner.”

“Do it.” He taunts before charging at you, his raised hands that once signaled submission are now going for your throat. You have little to no time to make your decision, pulling the trigger at the same time he shouts louder. “I said shoot the damn gun!”

With a singular squeeze, a bolt is ejected in a flash of blinding light. He doubles over in pain, making a pause to assess that he got nicked. Darkened scoring of his features char the side of his head with burnt hair and a prominent piece missing from his ear. 

He emits a guttural exclamation, grasping his wound as his hateful eyes cast over you before successfully pinning you to your bed. He disarms you in a flash, hitting you repeatedly with the butt of the blaster until you can barely hear or see. You taste iron in your mouth when the soft flesh of your inner cheeks collide with your teeth when struck so savagely. Your ears ring and your vision goes blurry, trapping you in your own body so that all you can do is internally shriek for what’s to come for the trillionth time. You disassociate, hoping you pass out so that you don’t have to be here anymore.

The blaster is set beside your head and you’re still battling the lethargy. Both your wrists are held down with one hand while he uses the other to yank at his own clothes, a difficult feat while sitting atop your waist. Something stops him though. You can’t tell, but it seems like he was kicked off of you by an unseen figure. You’re able to register someone wrapping you in the blanket beneath you, but you’re long gone by the time you get carried out of there.

For what feels like a blink, you awaken to a headache you’re all too familiar with. Though, something is different. The icky sense of violation is not there. You swallow harshly in your dry throat, clutching the blanket around yourself when you notice Omega in the chair beside the cot you’ve been nestled into.

“Where… am I?” Your question is not answered as Omega exclaims loudly while running out of the room.

“Tech!” She rounds the corner in a flash. “She’s awake!”

You rub the exhaustion from your eyes, giving Tech time to be led by Omega back to you. Once he reaches the doorway, you watch him crouch on one knee, instructing her softly to wait. She begs to tag along, pressing him for answers on why she can’t just yet. “I must talk with her first. Your patience will be stoutly rewarded.”

“You promise?” Omega acquiesces, swaying back and forth.

Tech offers his pinky and she interlocks it with hers, gracing you with a wave before skipping away. This leaves you two alone now. Tech advances and you recoil upon instinct. In your heart you know you’re in good hands, but being alone with someone is still a lot to ask of your nervous system.

“She’s quite worried about you.” Tech starts off with unabashed honesty.

“Oh…” You whisper, an incomprehensible idea.

“As am I.” Tech makes dead eye contact, letting you know nonverbally just how serious a fate you were spared from.

You’ve not known this sort of consideration since your mother was alive. It seems like the galaxy darkened the day she was buried, but now, you’re practically blinded by the light filling your life in the form of this humble savior. In addition to the blanket you’ve been wrapped in, a secondary one has been politely laid over top of you to keep the dropping wasteland temps at bay. The security you feel is paramount. Tech keeps his distance, leaning against the wall like he did at the mill where you first spoke.

“I took the liberty of gathering some clothes for you.” Tech explains first. “Yours were… in disrepair.”

“Thank you.” You glance at the practical yet stylish outfit and assess that you’ve never had anything that looked so new and clean before. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s rather peculiar actually. I noticed something was amiss when you scurried away and one of these disappeared with you.” Tech retrieves a blaster and waves it in the air beside his head before putting it back in its rear holster “I would have lent it to you if you asked, but you seemed rather determined.”

“What did you do with him?” The thought occurs to you that it was his boot you saw plant across your uncle’s chest, and you must know.

“What do you want me to do with him?” Tech’s answer is not one you were anticipating. Do you really have stock in this decision?

“I don’t understand.” You need more information, ensuring what you think to be true.

“My brothers are keeping an eye on him.” Tech tilts his head to the side, implying your uncle is near. “In our line of work, it is not customary to leave witnesses in this particular happenstance.”

“Witnesses? What, are you fugitives?” You ask, a superfluous inquiry that couldn’t possibly be your reality. Though, when you see that Tech isn’t finding humor in the same idea, you realize in due time he’s serious.

“You could say that.” Tech shrugs as he explains the distinction. “But then it would mean that it is a crime to not want to be treated like an item of property instead of a human being.”

It all is beginning to make sense. You squint and get a better look at him. The brothers he mentioned, their little sister Omega, they all must be cut from the same cloth. Your heart aches thinking they would have no idea what it means to be imprisoned, enslaved by people who claim to be their caretakers, but their existence is based on that dreadful fact.

“You’re clones.” You deliver the words in an unwavering statement, no question about it.

“Correct.” Tech flashes a subtle grin, touched to finally make a proper acquaintance.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Since the Republic dissolved, you figured they were all dead.

“Same as you, I presume.” Tech folds his arms, not really sure of any of this. “Trying to live free.”

You sit and think for a moment, getting back on track. “Where is he?”

“Get changed.” Tech says as he heads for the door. “I’ll show you.”

You ease yourself off the bed still sore from your most recent beating. Soon enough, you are able to stand upright so that you can clothe yourself. Everything fits and is comfortable, giving power to your refreshed sense of identity. 

The blast door opens and Tech is waiting patiently with his arms crossed, falling to his sides when you emerge from the room at last. He leads the way and you examine his stride a few steps ahead of you, guiding all the way towards a darkened corridor. At first glance, you assume they made a home in a grounded starship, but the layout of interconnected infrastructure reveals they scavenged only pieces and placed them at areas in need of structural integrity. The refuge is vast. Many different paths spanning through a network of subterranean tunnels. How long has this hideout been here undetected? You must be miles from the city in the unmapped wilderness.

You reach the end of the patch you’re currently walking, rounding a corner to see his relatives congregating about a still mound resting atop a levitating gurney. As you get closer, you’re able to identify just who lies on the flat surface. He’s motionless, strapped down with hardly any breathing room. Regardless of the fact that he is indisposed, you do not wish to take another step.

“Do they uhm… know what he did to me?” You whisper under your breath to ask Tech when you see Omega share her sweet smile from across the way, reminding you of her sun-kissed glow at the market

“No.” Tech relays to you in the same quiet tone. “They’re simply doing this according to my instruction.”

You’re amazed at the pact they all have formed with each other so that they’re able to show up no matter the nature of the call. This togetherness is so foreign. Because of the man on that table, you always believed you would never deserve it. Yet here it is and you didn’t even have to ask.

You reach the group. The air is tense. This is the first encounter you’ve had that didn’t occur at the market.

“You guys just have a habit of picking up strays?” You break the ice, finding the setting to be rather uncouth for an introduction.

“It’s a quirk of ours.” Omega smiles, finding nothing wrong with it.

“Tech said he was pretty worried about you.” Hunter adds sincerely. “We don’t take a mention like that lightly with any of our own.”

‘Our own’, he says so easily. Is this real, or could you be hallucinating?

“So he told me.” You are still having a hard time registering what’s happening, wondering if this is normal for them.

“Hunter here is the one who insisted we go back for him after I brought you to our little hideout.” You’re surprised at that revelation. It could have ended there and then, but even if they have their own motives for tying up loose ends, you didn’t expect them to work out in your favor.

“That was your idea?” You ask, pointing a finger at him directly. “Why?”

“From what we know, there was no way we were letting him off easy.” Crosshair interjects, eager to exact some vengeance with an irate twitch of his upper lip from how hard he’s scowling. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a piece of him myself.”

“What Crosshair meant to say is that we know people like him, and they’re relentless when it comes to getting what they want.” Echo shines more light on the explanation.

“Echo’s right.” Wrecker agrees wholeheartedly, inputting his own sentiment while patting little Omega’s hair with a tousle. “Leaving things like that, he would have stopped at nothing to take you back.”

The man of the hour begins to wake up and Wrecker punches him abruptly, using the same hand that demonstrated such gentleness to Omega to exact a contrasting brutality. This buys a few more moments to remove any sensitive eyes and ears from the premises.

“I guess that’s our cue.” Wrecker chuckles as he places his hands over Omega’s shoulders to usher her to the door. With the others doing the same, this leaves only you and Tech in the presence of your uncle.

Echo takes her by the hand so that she doesn’t fight against Wrecker’s authority. “Yeah, time for bed, kiddo.”

“Aw! But I’m not even tired!” She pleads to no avail.

“Bed.” Echo enunciates, giving you and Tech a nod as they all round the corner out of sight.

You keep your distance, your heart racing when it prepares for the inescapable confrontation. You think to yourself, why are you scared? You should be empowered, but you still feel so small breathing the same air as him. Tech can sense you’re out of sorts, allowing you to be the judge of how things proceed. “Have you decided?”

“I don’t even know what to think.” You’re as honest as can be, disarmed by his proposal.

“Shall I give you options?” He adds casually, like reading off specials from a diner menu.

“Th-that might be a good start.” You respond hopefully.

“We can anonymously turn him in.” 

“No.” You vehemently object. “Please, anything but that.”

“But if the authorities get involved-

“I don’t want anyone involved!” Your voice impulsively raises and you are aware far too late that you’ve lost your composure.

“Why do you wish to spare him a legal sentence?” Tech does not harp on your outburst, inquiring a reason for your stance.

“I’m sparing myself from having to spill my guts about what he did to me.” Good things do not come to those who squeal. You might as well take it to the grave. Besides, the last thing you need is to draw any attention to your new friends. “I don’t care if the courts don’t know who I am, the person recording my testimony will.”

“Fair enough.” Tech disbands that idea, coming up with another. “Is there a possibility a bounty may be on his head?”

“He may be a heaping pile of bantha dung, but he’s not ambitious enough to make it onto any boards.”

“Hmmm.” Tech grips his chin, resorting to one final option. “What if I… augmented him to the point he would be physically incapable of harming another person?”

“What, like cutting his parts off?” You blurt the macabre concept without thinking. “I’ll admit, it’s crossed my mind before…”

“Not as morbid as you put it, but yes.” Tech gives you credit where it’s due. “Something like that.”

“How?”

Tech reaches for the handle to a steel set of drawers lining the cavern walls, pulling out a data pad to show something to you. With a few taps, he pulls up a diagram of the human body, specifically its nervous system. He zooms in right at the base of the skull where the spine begins. “Do you see this cluster of nerves between these two vertebrae?”

“Right there?” You ask for confirmation.

“Precisely.” Tech confirms. “Irreversible spinal cord compromise or even a complete absence of this cluster specifically inhibits his ability to move anything below the collar bones, but it does not hinder pain receptors in the brain.”

“He can’t move, but he feels everything?”

“Correct.”

Suddenly a surge of saliva floods your mouth like you’re about to vomit. You fight off the sensation, powering through every wave of discomfort as Tech continues.

“Immediately following this procedure, I would conduct an additional incision. Here.” He then expands the imagery of the diagram’s pelvic anatomy.

“Another one?” You ask “For what?”

“To sterilize him.”

You gasp. Things are moving too fast. “I-I need a minute.”

Walk away from Tech, putting your back to the rocky wall. The cool of the stone is grounding. Why is this happening? You hate him. He took everything from you, repeatedly and without repentance. You were fully prepared to kill him hours ago. This panic isn’t from the consequence in committing this twisted righteousness, but in realizing that you’ve been given the opportunity to determine how it’s carries out. 

Tech looks down at your assailant, watching him get his last session of beauty rest before being thrown to the loth-wolves. A blooming bruise is forming across his swollen cheek where Wrecker struck him and Tech notices he’s wishing he could give him one on the opposite side to match.

After a few silent moments of breathing, you are calmed enough to rejoin Tech with an answer.

“I apologize if I was a little straightforward.”

“I-I’m fine.” You wave in dismissal of his concern. “It was just a lot to take in.”

“I could always give you this back.” Tech retrieves his blaster, setting it atop the storage units against the wall.

“No.” You push it back towards him, denying the suggestion. “I want you to conduct the procedures.”

“Are you certain?” Tech asks, knowing that once you say the word, there’s no turning back.

“He once told me ‘what happens when you sleep only matters to those who are awake’.”

You take a moment to really think about it while peering over him, his eyes closed and peaceful. You would never think to take advantage of someone when they’re vulnerable like this, but these circumstances differ. Killing him would be far too easy. He doesn’t deserve that. He has to answer for it all. He will have no choice but to do so every waking moment of what’s left of his miserable life.

“I want him to know what it was like. The misery. The filth. The ache.” Your bottom lip trembles when you try to speak and Tech’s lenience allows him to wait on your every word. “For him to wish he could get away, but can’t.”

Tech helps you breathe through your grief, steadying your voice to speak your decision with verity. “Do it. Please…”

Before Tech could say anything, you remove yourself to your own little corner, collapsing to your knees. The rough cavern floor collides with your soft joints, but you care not for its impact. Sobs come overflowing out of you with no end in sight. Everything registers at once like a sledgehammer onto your unsuspecting fruit of life. Tech may have removed the threat, but you have a long road of recovery to walk before you manage to shake the guilt and shame. The scars on your heart may never completely heal over, but at least you find solace in reminding yourself the ones on your flesh hold no weight anymore.

Tech is meticulous in this operation. The justification in your choice is the entire premise for him to see the necessity in what he willingly volunteered to do. Any normal person would be sickened by this sordid conduct. Although, to your grateful luck, Tech is not burdened by the conditioned expectations of society, able to act on his own judgement even if the world might not agree with him. The crimes Tech witnessed against you hardly scratched the surface. There’s no other word for this than justice.

You are able to remain alone here for quite a long while. It gives you time to think, forgive yourself, or at least start to try while succumbing to the exhaustion of the day. You don’t realize until you’re being startled awake that Tech has located you, cleaned of all gory evidence from the procedures. “It is done.”

“Is he still in there?” You recoil slightly, unwilling to confront him a second time. You don’t want him to remember the girl who cried when she got rescued. You want him to remember the girl that pulled a gun on him and blew his ear off.

“My brothers have put him where he belongs.” Tech discloses while giving you the room you require to feel safe. “He’s not going to bring harm to anyone ever again.”

“Thank you.” You sniffle, looking at your feet instead of him. The separation is blatantly tangible. You desperately wish to feel him near, but part of you isn’t ready to take that step yet.

“Why are you sad?” Tech has had a hand in the liberation of many from their oppressive chains, but your reception leaves him dumbfounded at its difference. 

“I’m not.” You act on the boldness of lifting your gaze to smile at him, tears streaming until they stain your collar. It is in this split second that Tech confirms in his heart and mind he’s done the right thing and would do it for you a thousand times over if given the gamble.

Having grown weary of sitting on the ground, you gain a footing on the uneven cavern floor. Tech notices your advance, attempting to meet you halfway. You reach your hand out to him, wanting to feel that untainted connection for yourself. Tech does the same action, welcoming the contact eagerly. He squeezes your fingers, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles to officially accept you into their happy family.

~~~

The Marauder flies low in the rankest, roughest slums of the city. It hovers close enough so that they can expel something out the back hatch, but they do not descend enough to land. A limp body is kicked out of the ship by Crosshair’s boot, leaving him in a face-down slump as the ship flies away. Your uncle wakes up to a body that no longer responds to him. The cold of the outdoors is unforgiving, the way the rocks stab his skin while the dampness of a nearby puddle causes him to shiver. The frigid desert casts its moonlight over every inch of the area, but it’s far too dark and crowded for him to make anything out in the obscurity.

“What the hell…?” All things that skitter and crawl start creeping at him from the shadows. He begins to shout, petrified of being eaten alive by whatever is hissing and spitting an arm’s length away. “Stop! Get back!”

At the height of his shriek, someone’s massive boot scares the critters away. The boot belongs to the foot of a massive passerby, a towering Dowutin. His skin is a rusty ochre that somewhat shines in the moonbeams with everything around him washed out in desaturated hues of blue. The horns protruding from his chin wiggle back and forth when the Dowutin starts to examine the human pile at his feet. He believes himself to be saved, speaking to him like any commoner would. “Please! You have to help me!”

“What laser brain decided to dump their garbage in the middle of the road?” Your uncle’s cries are bitterly ignored by the stranger’s deep rumbling voice, answered only by a swift kick to the ribs. A couple ribs snap like branches when the air is knocked clean out of him. He is punted a good few feet away like a ragdoll, desperate to breathe but every intake causes fire to spread through his lungs. 

He’s on a fast track to suffocation as he gasps and howls out for mercy that will never arrive. The Dowutin thought him to be dead but it slowly connects in his mind that he’s hit the jackpot. As a test for his theory, he puts out the cigar he was puffing on by smothering it into the middle of his spine. While his shouts will be heard for miles, your uncle is anchored so heavily by his own anatomy that he doesn’t even flinch. “Hm. Boss is gonna have fun selling this new toy I found.”

The Dowutin yanks him up by his immobile legs, tossing him like a dead fish over his shoulder to be taken further into the abyss of evil. His broken ribs grind into each other and pinch his organs, inciting him to scream his head off until the Dowutin backhands him so hard his lips and nose begin leaking. “If you’re gonna act like a doll, you better behave like one. Now shut it. Boss doesn’t like noisemakers.”

And just as you had hoped, the single most constant thought on his mind was you and how he has no idea how you survived this mistreatment, longing to draw his last breath and close his eyes once and for all. Unfortunately for him, the suns will rise and set countless times before that dream becomes a reality.

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