Soaring through the skies, Arthur fled to an isolated area. He'd already hung up on Alicia, choosing to give Rudy a call. However, as he was searching his contacts, he found it was too late.
At an extreme speed beyond what he could comprehend, something crashed into him. It struck him on the left shoulder, immediately dislocating it and giving a sour crunching noise, one which was made in tandem with a cry from his own mouth, one which he'd forcibly given.
This sent his newly learned wings to a complete disaster, as he plummeted through the sky. It was not made easier when his own jaw was grabbed, increasing his rapid velocity until he came to a complete halt when his movements halted nigh instantly due to slamming down onto the pavement of a parking lot.
His bodyweight and the weight of whoever had grabbed him, it all landed at once, placed on the side of his jaw with blinding speeds. The crunch was loud, like a popping noise, followed by small spurts of blood which exited his mouth on contact.
Arthur screamed, splurging out crimson from his mouth, as he tried to get to his knees, and even think. He succeeded, moving from totally laying down to being on his knees and shins, looking down at the ground and the bits of blood he'd left.
He opened his mouth, as that familiar redness left, bloody teeth falling out alongside it, like a boat going downstream off a cliff.
"Alph, w-wath, ah."
He stared at his own traces with wide, stretched eyes. It was all falling apart.
"Hm. Shall we kill him immediately?" Something asked.
"No. He's met with the Graves family before. He's more useful if we use him for info." Another thing said.
"Alrighty. Go inside the store and get rid of the security cameras. Then kill everyone inside. You, go block off the entrances. Use whatever won't attract attention."
Arthur looked up, seeing the group. Unlike the members of the Luna family, they weren't dressed in all black cloaks. They had fairly casual clothes, things that seemed comfortable.
Some people went inside, and a few seconds later, they came out. In the time between, Arthur heard screams, but they were silenced.
Next up—
"Heal."
A blunt object, shaped like a bat, forged from blood and colored crimson red, lifted Arthur's jaw up to the sky. It was painful to even do that much, so Arthur winced in pain, looking at the wielder of the weapon.
"Well? Will you heal? If not, we can get rid of you immediately."
'I don't want to die.'
Flashing through his mind was the living instinct. He healed his jaw, beginning to breathe heavily. As he healed his jaw, the brain damage from the impact healed alongside it, so he immediately began to move around.
However, before he could do such a thing, his blood itself stopped. Naturally, as descendents of the Blood Dragon, Assas, blood manipulation was an ability which was possessed, inherited, claimed and owned.
"We're gonna have a few questions for you. If that's alright with you, Arthur."
"Please stop."
"No," the man wielding the bat plainly said. He was quite tall, with brown hair and pale skin, like Arthurs. His build was that of an average guy, nothing particularly special. Even his face was plain, unable to be noticed in a crowd.
"SOMEONE! HELP ME!!!" Arthur roared. Naturally, this wasn't to the favor of those who he was at the mercy of. They grabbed him and threw him through, shattering a window and into a simple diner. He floated through the air, being dumped into the kitchen as everyone else made their way in.
He couldn't move. He couldn't fight back. As long as there was blood in the area, it was not up to him whether it moved.
"Alrighty. Now, first question. Has the Graves family shared any plans with you for the future? Any alliances they've made?" The man asked.
"I, I don't know, no, I don't think, no, no, they, they didn't…"
"I see. There's rumors of Frank Graves' death. They real?" He was asked. Arthur nodded his head.
Ultimately, snitching wasn't anything he cared about. They'd deceived him into joining, so any honor or loyalty was off the table. Simply put, they were moreso allies that he'd been forced to be with, any genuine bond was pretty small.
"I see. Well, this guy also doesn't have a clue about anything, so I feel like that's probably all we need. Though, when it comes to traitors, it might be nice to send a message."
'What?'
"What? Listen, you guys are my family, right?! C'mon, I was tricked into betraying yo—" Cut off by a bat to the jaw. Teeth shot out, lightly impacting the walls and bouncing off. The few that remained in his mouth were now loose and crooked, bent in different directions.
The open gums where teeth once were filled his mouth with blood, which he ruggedly spat out, running his tongue along them and astounded by the sensation of being toothless.
"Set up the camera."
Arthur looked up, dazed. The attack aimed mostly at his teeth, so his chin wasn't struck too badly, leading to his brain being relatively unaffected.
His eyes narrowed forwards, seeing the camera man. It was a woman of average height, brown hair and blue eyes wearing glasses. She resembled his mother loosely, but he knew it. She was not her.
"I'm recording."
"Alrighty. Undo the control, but if he gets too close to escaping, bring him back," the man said nonchalantly. Arthur felt himself regain control of his bodily autonomy, as he turned his head around, feeling his fingers move.
The bat was brought back, and Arthur immediately formed a knife from the blood in his mouth, aiming for a stab directly to the jugular. However, the attack was dodged, weaved, and countered. The bat strike was brought down to his collarbone, the weakest bone.
It shattered, bringing him to the floor, as the bone itself had snapped in two, being split apart and shoved away from each other. Arthur screamed, holding it with pain. He healed it, which reduced his stamina, before he immediately began to flee, deeming combat as not an option.
He jumped through the broken window, but was stopped, frozen in time. He was thrown back into the restaurant, and he slid along the floor, coming to a stop at the counter.
Vision blurred, he glanced around. Seeing multiple corpses, shattered windows, bloodstained walls. The scent itself was terrible, that of shit and piss, blood and guts, making Arthur want to vomit.
'I can't run. I have to kill them, I have to kill them, I have to kill them.'
His "switch" was turned on, and he continued to moan in pain, taking a glance at the man who raised the bat above his head. Arthur predicted when he was going to swing, and moved before he was able to do so, evading the slam of the weapon before it was even fired.
He got up, rushing for a takedown, taking advantage of the reverb created by the stopped swing. He tackled the man, but as they moved down the diner, Arthur's feet slipped on blood.
See, the tackle Arthur threw was a bad one, having no experience. And when he didn't manage to immediately bring the man to the ground, he continued to "run" to keep going, but that failed when he slipped.
The man grabbed Arthur by the waist, lifting him up and slamming his head down to the floor, sending his head directly embedded into it. The crater left was one of strong impact, and Arthur had his ankle grabbed, lifted up as he was torn from the ground, and swung around.
It was nauseating, and this caused him to actually vomit, becoming a tornado of puke, which brought an excruciating burn to his stomach. A wall of blood formed, and Arthur was released, spinning like a shuriken, coming leg-first into the wall.
The sounds of the bones breaking damaged his soul. He fell to the ground with a thud, screaming, and vomiting up excess blood. His insides were burning, pulsating and throbbing. He looked at his legs, which were bent at a 90 degree angle, then—
Oh, no, as he moved them, they went from a 90 degree angle to a 45 degree one.
Sinking despair. He turned towards the man, who was rushing at him with that bat of blood this time. Bringing it down, it made Arthur's spirit recoil.
The impact of the swing was that of cracking, and a deep, searing pain flooded Arthur's body, refusing to stop at just the hand.
Arthur looked at his own palm, vision blurry from tears which he blinked away, his mouth helplessly agape and now silence. The woman filming got closer, keeping the camera focused on it, as it twitched and swelled into purple.
As time passed, Arthur's silence turned to hyperventilation. Faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster faster faster faster fasterfasterfasterfasterfasterfasterfaster—
"Keep going. Heal."
His hand was shattered, and his legs were broken. Arthur laid on his back, looking up at the still functioning lights. Arthur did as instructed, wanting to avoid death at all costs.
The bashing continued, being brought down on his ribs, breaking them. Arthur held his gut with pain, looking up at the camera. No, his sights were behind.
"Please… help me."
His words fell on deaf ears, as the woman stared at him with an expressionless face. As he was beaten further and further, he lost himself in thought, doing anything to get away from the pain.
'Why are they doing this? There's no point. Just kill me, just kill me. It's easier if I just die, so why are they doing this to me? Not even that werewolf—'
Another slam, this time he'd been flipped onto his belly and the attack was brought down on his spine, breaking it. He lost control of his thoughts, screaming out, erecting the top half of his body, clenching his fists and tensing every muscle he could to fend off the pain.
As with the pain, he lost sensation in his legs. It was horrifying, instantly losing control over his body in an instant, and in a manner that would work on every single human being.
"Why?"
That was a good question. In all honesty, it might not have had an answer. The video was obviously more than just to prove they did it. Perhaps it was because he was a traitor? Or maybe because they felt like it.
He was special.
He was the Dragon. He was the Traitor. The Coward. The man. Ally of the Strongest. Honorary member of the Graves Family. The Dragon of Death.
He was so special, wasn't he? The only one in the world to have been turned into a traitor. And when Arthur looked back, he felt an overwhelming sadness that he'd ever made the decision.
Even if it wasn't his fault. Even if it got his friends killed. Ultimately, this pain, this ceaseless torment, it would have never happened if he just refused. If he fought back.
If. If only. Why didn't he? He should have. He wished he'd. If he could go back. If he could undo it. If he'd.
Ah. He broke. Again, and again. Each time he healed, his body lost the energy to fight. And with that, came an all-new pain, feeling his muscles being torn from the impact damaging them to such weakness that they tore off the bone.
One slam. Another slam. And another, and another, and another, and another. Keep it going. More swings, more crashes, more thuds, more cracks, more shatters, more pain.
It didn't stop. Oh.
He broke.
Was he dead already?
…
"Helloooo~? Welcome back! Soooo, how was your Saturday?" That woman asked.
They were in a perfectly green field. A beautiful sunset, a gentle breeze, pink sky and lawn chairs, an ice cold glass of lemonade in his lap.
Arthur's head sank. Drool puddled out, dripping down from his mouth.
"Ewwww! What happened? You good?" That woman asked him. Silence. "Huh? Arthur?"
"Ow…" Arthur grumbled, sniffling. He coughed like a sick man, leaning his head back. It was so lifeless that it swayed left and right as he did so.
"Huh? What do you… oh. Did you get knocked out? Brain damage shouldn't carry over into dreams, I think," she said calmly, with a small smile. Arthur looked over at her, his eyes pleading.
"Save me. Please, it hurts."
Arthur looked at his hands, seeing that they still shook with such fright.
Despite his words, his body was not in pain. Not in a dream, as that went against what should happen in a dream. However—
'I wish I'd never been born. I'd be better off dead, wouldn't I? I was beaten to death with a bat… just who could accept such a death?'
'Beaten to death, feeling that horrible sensation, and knowing I can't fight back. I couldn't move, I couldn't even catch my breath. I was surrounded, everyone was so much stronger, everyone was…'
'I'm so small. In this huge, vast world, monsters exist. Monsters like them, monsters who kill, monsters who torture, monsters who do horrible things to me.'
'Monsters.'
'In a world where you can't die happy, in a world where your death is agonizing, a world where you lived in fear of dying horribly, is it really better to live?'
'I'm scared.'
'Of monsters.'
Thinking quickly, Lucy immediately disappeared from the dream.
Arthur was stuck. He clutched his head, falling out of the chair and bringing his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around and hugging them tightly, tighter, tightest he'd ever hugged them.
'More than anything.'
'I hate monsters.'
The seeds of hatred were watered.