I awoke on my side with a pounding in my head; every beat of my heart brought forth an excruciating thud to my temples. Wincing, my eyes slowly flickered open, only to find that my vision was too blurry to see anything aside from colours and shapes. Slowly, I put a hand to my forehead and felt dry blood, which broke into flakes and fell away as soon as I touched it, implying that it had been there for quite some time.
{How long have I been here?} I thought to myself, groaning.
Attempting to sit up brought a scorching pain into both my left thigh and upper left arm. It was almost unbearable, and I flopped back down. Carefully using my right hand, I combed over the injuries to find that they were wrapped in bandages, both heavily saturated with more old blood. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself up once more and removed the dressing from my arm, beneath which I found a crudely cauterised hole. The bullet had been removed, which meant for whatever reason, my captors had chosen to keep me alive.
After spending some time to properly regain my senses, I looked around to see that I was in a small, dark, and uncomfortably damp room. My ankles were chained together, as were my wrists, and as my mind began to clear, I began to think of the girls. Did they get away? Were they now deep within the jungle, on their way to the first piece of the Orb? Would they come back for me? Had they been caught? Were they chained up in a room similar to this one? Were they dead!?
I shuddered as I pictured their lifeless bodies, huddled somewhere in this godforsaken place. Perhaps they were being cut apart and studied by curious minds, or being diced up and eaten by hungry mouths, uncaring to their otherworldly forms. Clamping my eyes shut and casting such horrible visions aside, I prayed that they had been able to escape, and were far, far away from this place. Just as I was attempting to get to my feet, the door to the room was opened, and two men looked down at me. The first man was some scrawny looking fellow, with more hair on his patchy chin than he did atop his head. The other man was nearly twice his size, and packed with more muscle than an ox.
“Walk. Now.” he ordered.
His voice was low and gravelly, and bore a thick Russian accent. I hesitated for a second too long, and he reached forward to grab a fistful of my hair. He pulled me out of the room, and after taking just two steps, the pain in my thigh was too much and I dropped to one knee. Unamused, the Russian grabbed my hair even tighter and forcefully lifted me back to my feet. Try as I might to remain strong, I let out a pathetic mewl, and was then half-walked and half-dragged to wherever they wanted me to be.
I was brought through a series of corridors and rooms, and within each, I saw a plethora of people, drinking, gambling, fighting, and packaging narcotics. All of them wore red and black clothing too, like some sort of uniform. There was a clear majority in Brazilian members, but I also noticed a great many paler men, and Middle Easterners too. This really was a cartel, and a big one too, for they clearly had members from all around the world.
The scrawny man went his own way, leaving the Russian to bring me to a large hall-like chamber, where he finally released me in the centre of the room. I crumpled to the ground and the pain in my thigh shot up through me, causing me to clamp my eyes shut and roll to one side, groaning miserably to myself.
“Go on, string him up.” a voice commanded.
I recognised the voice immediately, and opened my eyes to see the man who had knocked me out, the supposed leader of this cesspool. The black tattooed skull on his chest glared at me just as intently as he did, and he smiled cheerily as his burly henchman squatted down and tethered a rope to the chains on my wrists. I didn’t have it in me to struggle, I just watched drearily as he finished binding the rope to me, and then went over to some sort of pulley system, which he began to operate. My arms were forcefully raised above my head and I was hoisted upwards to my feet, causing me to shout out in agony.
“Please! Let me down!” I whimpered, barely able to handle the pain.
“I thought I wasn't going to hear you beg?” the leader cackled.
He started to circle me like a vulture, inspecting me as I tried to compose myself. He then came right up to me and sniffed my face, before giving my cheek a lick, tasting my sweat. His eyes were black as night, animalistic and full of madness.
“Who the hell are you?” I breathed shakily.
“That’s my question, hermano.”
Without warning, he slapped me in the face with the back of his hand, which brought me fully to my senses as adrenaline started to course through me once again. The Russian then hoisted me even higher until I could only just stand on my toes, and the man in charge began to explain exactly why I was still alive.
“So, there I was, tying up some loose ends with someone who thought he could fuck me over. When out of nowhere, me and my boys get surrounded by some crazy voodoo smoke. We start hearing shit that ain’t really there, I’m talking some real hocus-pocus stuff, you know? My guys freak out, start shooting at stuff, shit was crazy man, you should’ve been there.”
Winking at me, he was clearly implying that he knew I was there. Pressing his body up against mine, he started trailing circles on my chest with his index finger.
“When it went away, we found one of my boys dead, and someone had taken his shooter, but hold on now amigo, because this is where it gets real interesting. You see, two of my boys tell me that they spotted some white kid run away into a nearby alley. But my boy Miguel, now he says, that this kid ain’t alone, that he was in the company of some sort of… creature.”
Gulping, I began to grind my teeth as he described Twilight’s appearance to me, and I realised that they had seen us right from the start, before we had even made it across the first goddamn street.
“Now, I thought Miguel was crazy so, I shot him. But then, over the radio waves, some of my spotters tell me, ‘hey boss, we’ve just seen some white boy sneaking around, and he’s got these weird fucking horse things with him, and they can talk’. That’s when I realised poor little Miguel wasn’t crazy, and that right here in my kingdom, there’s a jumped up white boy running around, with not one, but six of these things!”
Dipping my head, I had to fight the urge to break apart. I hadn’t been able to sneak through at all, they had been onto me right from the get-go. It had only been a matter of time until they found us, and my stunt with the UMP to clear the street had brought them straight to us. This was my fault, this was all my fault…
“So then I start thinking to myself…” the leader continued, “If there are six talking horses with this boy, maybe there are more out there, you know? Maybe I’ve got some new product to sell. So I give the order, ‘let’s go get ‘em, and get the boy alive if you can’, and well… here you are.”
He slapped my cheeks a few times, before aggressively pressing his forehead up against mine, as though he were trying to physically enter my mind with his own.
“So to bring us back to my question, hermano, who the hell are you, huh? Who are the talking horse girls? What are they, and where do they come from?”
My jaw quivered with fear, and my eyes were full of tears, but just as before in the sewers, I faced him with dignity and vigilance.
“I’m not your fucking hermano.” I growled.
“That’s a subjective, philosophical, point of fucking view.” he replied, rolling his eyes, “Answer the question.”
Clenching my jaw, I accepted that my life was already forfeit, and so I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of learning anything from me.
“I’m a nameless dead man, mate.” I retorted, “About as good to you as a knitted condom. You should have left me to die in that sewer, so if it’s all the same to you, hurry up and finish the job.”
Bursting into a maddened guffaw, the man stepped back and clapped his hands, before suddenly lunging forward and punching me square in the jaw. I swung sideways and twisted around to face the other way.
And that’s when I saw them.
“No…” I gasped.
From six rusty animal cages, no taller than three feet, all six ponies were slumped in miserable heaps, helplessly staring at me with hopelessness and horror. Even from as far away as I was, I could tell they had been mistreated; Applejack had bruises on her face from an evident struggle, and I couldn’t even see the whites of Rainbow Dash’s eyes, for they were so inflamed that one could imagine they had been doused with blood. Every one of them was covered in dirt, and from the most dimly lit cage, Twilight glowered at me intensely, her eyes glinting with seething hatred. There was no doubt that she blamed me for this fate, and she had every right to do so.
Prancing up to me from behind, the leader wrapped his arms around my neck in an affectionate manner, sighing dreamily as he looked at his outlandish quarry with me. This was why he had kept me alive, he wanted to learn about them, and where he might procure more of them. Shivering, a rage unlike any other began to brew from deep within me, it was a focused rage, of nuclear proportions, and I knew precisely what I was going to do. Somehow, I was going to break free of these bonds, and I was going to kill this man.
“So, what do you think of my new pets, hm?” he murmured into my ear.
With his head being so close to mine, I showed him exactly what I thought, by thrusting my head back into his face with all my might. Spluttering, he stumbled back and emphatically wrinkled his nose. I turned away from the girls and faced him, baring my teeth and giving him the fiercest snarl I could muster. Tensing my muscles, I prepared for him to fly into a rage of his own, and retaliate without mercy, and yet, no assault came.
“Man, you really do have some heart, kid.”
Wildly chuckling to himself, he walked back up to me and put his mouth to my ear.
“Now, I’m going to lay things out for you real simple, okay?”
Snapping his fingers, the Russian let go of the pulley system, allowing me to drop to my knees, sighing heavy breaths of relief. Rummaging through his pockets and retrieving a set of keys, the man then made his way over to Rainbow Dash’s cage.
“Get up.” he ordered, unlocking the door and opening it, “Go to your friend, go show him.”
The pegasus lay motionless, as though she hadn’t even heard him. At this, the bastard withdrew his pistol and pointed it in my direction. With an ear-splitting bang, he loosed a round that almost hit me, to which I flinched and ducked down. The others all ducked as well, spooked by the gunshot.
“Next time, I won’t miss him.”
Sluggishly getting to her hooves, Rainbow Dash emerged from her cage and limped over to me, refusing to make eye contact. Not moving as fast as our captor desired, the poor mare was seized by the mane and dragged towards me. Without an ounce of fight left in her, she allowed herself to be forcibly brought over, and once she was properly in the light, I realised what was wrong with her; so terribly, terribly wrong.
From the pit of my stomach to the top of my throat, my insides seized up. What stood before me was a sight so painful that it nearly killed me. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Dashie looked at me, and showed me the full extent of what this truly abominable wretch of a man had done to her. Almost entirely losing the ability to breathe, I looked on in horror as Rainbow splayed open her wings, or at least, what was left of them, for all that remained were two unsightly, multijointed, fleshy, scythe-like limbs. They were covered in deep holes and splattered with blood. Not a single feather remained on the broken pony, for they had all been brutally ripped away. What had happened here was beyond torture, the poor girl had been physically crippled, feather by feather.
Rainbow Dash had been plucked, and was now, for all intents and purposes, a pegasus no longer…
The leader, revelling in the shock he had caused me, grinned widely and started stroking the back of Rainbow’s head, occasionally coiling strands of her mane between his fingers.
“Now this one? I really like her, she’s got a lot of heart, like you. But the thing is, alright… the thing is… she seemed to think that it would be okay to go breaking one of my boys’ arms, and then try to fly away. Well I didn’t like that, so I had her tied down, and I made sure it wouldn’t happen again.”
Planting a kiss on Rainbow’s head, he ordered her to get back into her cage and tossed the keys over to the Russian. The mare, completely destroyed, did exactly as she was told with little hesitation. With her head hung low, she willingly shambled back to her confinement and collapsed. I watched bitterly as the Russian slammed the cage shut and locked it behind her. Still on my knees, I looked up at the monster responsible, and glared at him intensely. Totally unfazed by my wrathful demeanour, he stepped towards me and squatted down to my level.
“Now, I’m going to ask you again, and if you don’t tell me everything you know about these creatures, I’m going to do the exact same thing… to the yellow one.”
I glanced past him to look at Fluttershy, where I could see the poor thing buried beneath her own mane and tail, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
“Or you know, I could just cut them off completely?” he suggested, licking his lips, “With how good chicken wings are, who knows how good those will taste, you feel me hermano?”
I couldn't take it any more. Taking advantage of his closeness, I lunged forward and latched onto him with all four limbs, dragging him into me as I wrestled him to the floor. He tried to roll away, but with my legs wrapped around his waist, he could go nowhere. Straddling him, I used the chains on my wrists to repeatedly bash at his face. Wholly consumed by the fury, I roared at him with every ounce of strength I had.
“YOU BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”
Try as I might, my efforts to destroy him were unfounded, as the Russian returned to the pulley system and yanked me back up so hard that my arms were nearly ripped from their sockets. Scrambling away from me, the man clutched at the now-marred and bloodied side of his face, hissing in a fit of excruciating animosity. After taking a moment to gather himself, he reached the end of his tether and strode up to me.
“I think, boy, it’s time you learned exactly who you’re dealing with.”
I tried to kick out at him as he approached, only for him to slink to the side and punch me directly in the bullet wound on my arm. Emitting a howl of agony, I continued in my attempts to fight back, but he was far too nimble, and continued to strike me multiple times until the wound had reopened. Blood seeped down my arm, but the man did not relent.
“Stop it! Stop it! You're hurting him!” Pinkie Pie cried out, rattling the bars of her cage.
Ignoring the pink mare’s pleas, he continued to beat me down until I lacked the strength to defend myself. The henchman then released the pulley, allowing me to drop to the ground, but it didn’t stop there. Towering above me, the man proceeded to kick and stamp at me relentlessly, and there was nothing I could do but curl up into a ball and take it. With each blow I took to the head, everything grew fuzzier and fuzzier, until I was eventually beaten senseless. With a final punt to the ribs, my rage-fuelled defiance came to an end. I went limp and broke into a sob, which was promptly silenced with a smack to the mouth.
“No, no-no-no-no-no boy, you don’t get to cry now!”
Without warning, he withdrew his pistol again, and pressed the barrel directly into my crotch.
“No, if you’re going to cry like a little bitch, then you don’t deserve these.” he spat, “Now I’m only going to tell you for a first time. Shut the fuck up, or I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life sitting down to piss. Not that it will be that long of a life, but even so… you feel me?”
Gritting my teeth and pursing my lips as tightly as possible, I ceased to weep just enough to satisfy him. He turned away, which was when he took aim at Pinkie Pie and shot at her, causing some of the girls to scream loudly. There was a harrowing silence, but thankfully it seemed that she hadn’t actually been hit, which brought forth an almighty sigh of relief from me. The man then looked back at me and craned his neck, shrugging at me.
“You see kid, I don’t need all six, because I have a feeling that you know where I can find more. So unless you want to see one of their heads mounted to a fucking wall, you’d better start talking.”
It was then that the Russian cleared his throat and lifted his chin, preparing to speak up.
“What if uh… Paulo want one?”
Looking at his enormous henchman and itching his chin, the man gave a thoughtful hum.
“You know I don’t pay you to talk. Ugh, but you’re not wrong…”
Rolling his eyes, he squatted beside me and started to gently pat at the side of my head.
“Today’s your lucky day hermano, I need to make a little phone call. But don’t think for one second that you’re out of the woods, you and I are going to have a lot of fun together, okay?”
Looking me up and down for a moment, he snapped his fingers, and the Russian strode over to untie the rope from my chains.
“Oh, and seeing as you did ask first, I guess it’s only polite.”
Helping me up to my knees, the man lowered his head and looked me dead in the eyes.
“I am Inigo Montenegro, and I am the last face you are ever going to see in this life.”
With a tilt of his head, he gave me one last smile, before lashing out with his pistol. He struck me in the head, putting an abrupt end to the tattered remains of my consciousness…
A wet flannel pressed against my face, and I was slowly roused from my comatose state. Gradually opening my eyes, I was met with the blurred form of a person, lightly dabbing at my face.
“Hey, you. You’re finally awake…” a female voice spoke softly.
Blinking a few times, I got a slightly clearer picture, revealing a woman kneeling beside me. She had long green hair and numerous ear piercings. She looked rather young, barely much older than myself by the looks of things. I tried to get up, only for all the pain in my body to immediately return, resulting in me instinctively trying to curl up. Rolling sideways, I let out a weak groan.
“Oww…”
The girl placed both of her hands on my torso and held me still, easing me back over to my original position and speaking to me softly.
“Hey, easy does it… There we go…”
Her voice sounded English, and the kindness in her tone made it rather clear that she had been taking care of me. Relaxing slightly, I allowed her to continue tending to me with the wet cloth.
“Where… Where am I?” I mumbled.
“You, my friend, are the newest member of the Stock Heap.”
“Stock?” I echoed, slurring, “What’s… What’s the Stock Heap?”
“Your new home, I’m afraid.” she told me, “It’s the name for this part of the compound, and where all the prisoners and slaves are taken, to be piled in together like the pitiful merchandise we are.”
“Oh, I get it…” I said, swallowing, “We’re the stock?”
“You catch on fast.”
With a nod, she explained to me that guns and drugs only made up a fraction of the cartel’s trade, and that they made most of their money in human trafficking. Some people were sold back to their families, if they were rich enough, others meanwhile, would be shipped off into the unknown, to be forever lost in the underworld of sex and slave markets.
Regaining more of my senses, I propped myself up as she explained how some slaves were to be kept here. They lived with the prisoners, though they also had the luxury of leaving the Stock Heap at times, permitting that it was either to prepare food, or to service the men.
“Gods above…” I muttered, “So um, are you a slave? Or just, some of Inigo’s… stock?”
“Take a guess.” she replied dryly, showing me the bruises on her wrists.
Apologising, I broke eye contact and pursed my lips. There was no telling what this poor girl had been subjected to here, but it sickened me to imagine. Wanting to know more about the person who’d been caring for me, I asked for the girl’s name, to which she helped me sit up properly and smiled.
“The name’s Nicole, Nicole Gilbert. And, you are?”
I hesitated for a moment, thinking about whether I should reveal my name or not. Then I realised how little it mattered, for I was a world away from England now. Exhaling, I told her my name.
“I’m Callum, Callum Horncastle.”
“Ooh, fancy.” she replied with her eyebrows raised, “I’m picturing a luscious, middle-class family?”
“Try a deadbeat alcoholic for a mother, and a father who’s been missing for years.”
“Huh, well that’s not ideal.” she shrugged, “Well, not like that matters now, ey?”
Huffing in agreement, I asked how long Nicole had been a slave here, to which she revealed that she had been the Stock Heap’s green-haired thrall for about seven months now. However, despite the life of a cartel slave being utterly gruelling, Nicole had coped with it rather well, relying heavily on a nonchalant and happy-go-lucky demeanour. That wasn’t to say she didn’t find it difficult, but she had come to terms with the reality of the situation, and had found her way to endure and survive.
“To put it crudely, if I’m going to be passed around from man to man, with the only alternative being a bullet to the head, I might as well try to enjoy myself, right?” she finalised with an awkward laugh.
“Jeez, fair one I guess…” I murmured, gulping.
Despite such a blunt and downplayed description for her mistreatment, her glassy eyes made it perfectly clear that she was far more damaged than she was letting on. Still, if her coping mechanism was to make light of the matter, and to simply keep calm and carry on, then more power to her. One thing was certain, Nicole Gilbert was one seriously tough young woman, of whom I immediately came to respect.
“Well uh, seeing as you’re allowed outside the Heap then, I’m guessing that you might be the best person to ask if there’s a way out of here?” I inquired.
Shaking her head and tutting, Nicole explained that Inigo liked to run a tight ship, and that guards were consistently on patrol. Escaping was out of the question, at least for the regular stock.
“So, no one’s ever escaped?” I asked, “Like… ever?”
Humming, she recalled how a pair of slave girls had escaped together once. Two sisters, by the names of Kiera and Laela, but how they had actually pulled off such an escape was beyond her.
“It was probably in the back of a supply truck or something.” she speculated, “But still, they only got out of the Heap because they were slave girls. So, unless you’re willing to offer yourself to the guards, and are really convincing in drag, I’m afraid you’re stuck here.”
Shaking my head, I told her that I couldn’t accept that. I needed to escape, or at the very least, rescue the friends of mine that were also here in Inigo’s possession.
“Pfft, good luck with that.” she snorted, “Look, forget escaping, if you want a chance of even surviving in here, then you need to stay on your deathbed for a while. If they think you’re fit enough to stand up, they’ll process you, and if you aren’t worth anything to them, you’re fucked. You ever see those videos on the internet? Where cartels cut people up and shit while they’re still alive? Well this is where most of those videos come from.”
Before I could reply, Nicole looked past me and her eyes widened. She then forced me to lie back down and placed the wet flannel over my face.
“Don’t move.” she ordered.
Knowing that she knew best, I remained perfectly still, which was when I heard heavy footsteps approaching. They stopped abruptly for a few seconds, before walking away again. Nicole then tapped me on the arm to let me know the coast was clear.
“What was that all about?” I inquired, removing the cloth.
“Vladimir.”
“Come again?”
“Vladimir Kikashkov.”
Emitting a nervous huff, she explained further.
“He’s Inigo’s right-hand man.” she told me, “People call him the ‘Red Boulder’, and he’s the meanest block of muscle you’ll ever meet. The bastard’s literally unkillable, he’s been stabbed and shot dozens of times, and nothing can bring him down. I’ve genuinely seen him take a bullet to the head once. Trust Inigo to have a living, breathing, Incredible Hulk as his own personal lackey.”
“I’m guessing he’s the big beefy Russian bloke then?” I posed, “About six foot eight? Black hair, buzzed on the sides?”
“Oh, so you’ve met?”
Confirming with a disgruntled hum, I asked Nicole to tell me everything she knew about this cartel; I wanted to know my enemy, inside and out. Knowledge was power, and if I had any chance at escaping this place, I would need to know what I was up against. Taking a deep breath, Nicole granted my request, and proceeded to tell me all that she had been able to gather during her time in this truly horrible place.
This entire facility, and the cartel who ran it, belonged to an organisation of pirates, who were in turn, part of an interconnected criminal empire. It was all headed by one man, by the name of Hoyt Volker, of whom ran the biggest slave, weapons, and drug trafficking ring in the entire South Pacific. They manufactured narcotics, raided towns, supplied terrorists, and captured a lot of people. Most of their captives were tourists, young adults on holiday, who would be ransomed back to their families for profit. Many of the Stock Heap’s prisoners were such people, desperately hoping that their loved ones could meet the cartel’s extortionate financial demands.
“Things around here are run by Inigo Montenegro.” Nicole muttered, pulling a face of disgust, “People call him the Bogeyman of Brazil, he’s that Hispanic twat with the big skull on his chest.”
“Yeah, I’ve met him too.” I growled.
“Ooh, well aren’t you popular?” she chuckled, “Well as I’m sure you saw, the man’s an animal, and a rabid one at that. He’s one of the most feared men in the country, if not the most feared.”
Slowly shaking my head, I asked why the authorities hadn’t put an end to him if he was such a notorious criminal. At that, Nicole gave a somewhat amused sigh, before explaining that for as unhinged as Inigo was, he wasn’t stupid. Inigo very publicly targeted police officers and their families, meaning that no one dared to touch him. He also had cartel members working within the public sector, secretly pulling strings throughout Brazil. He didn't just terrorise this country, he owned it!
“Jesus…” I mumbled.
“No, it’s Inigo.” she corrected, smirking, “Jesus was that other bloke.”
I looked at her blankly for a good few seconds, before we both started laughing, causing my injuries to hurt again.
“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.” I coughed.
“Don’t find what I say funny then!” she snapped back, winking at me.
Lying back down and tutting, I thanked Nicole for divulging the cartel’s layout to me. I then rubbed delicately over the bullet wound in my thigh. Though warm to the touch, the surrounding area wasn’t too badly infected; a blessing, considering that I had been shot in a sewer. I thanked my lucky stars that I had collapsed on the cleaner walkway. Had I fallen down into the muck, then it would have been more likely than not that I would already be dead from sepsis.
“Oh yeah, those holes were pretty nasty.” Nicole said, “Your leg was alright, ish… but that one on your arm? Man, that thing was pissing blood when you were first brought in!”
“Yeah, you’ve got Inigo to thank for that.” I grumbled.
With a huff, Nicole explained that she had been ordered to clean my wounds and tend to me daily. Using vodka as an antiseptic, she had staved off further infection, and was essentially the reason I was still breathing.
“They gave you vodka?” I quizzed, raising an eyebrow.
“My reward for keeping you alive.” she replied, “I guess Inigo still wants you kicking for some reason.”
“Can’t imagine why.” I said sarcastically.
Nicole then asked how I got here, to which I professed that it was a long story. With a laugh, she pointed out that I hardly had anywhere else to be, and considering the fact she had given me so much information, and literally saved my life, I chose to indulge her.
“Well, I faked my death and ran away with six uh, friends.” I started, clearing my throat.
Choosing not to mention the ponies by name, I explained that my ‘friends’ were simply a band of childhood companions, and we had made a pact to go travelling together and see the world, to live a life of adventure. We had been in the country for a little over a week, and were on our way upward to the Amazonas, which was when we were captured by Inigo and his people.
“Damn, that’s quite the story.” Nicole murmured with a whistle, “Well, aside from you, no one’s been added to the Heap for quite some time, so if your friends are still alive, they’re not here.”
“Oh trust me, you’d know if they were here.” I told her.
Explaining that Inigo had taken an interest in them, I said that he was keeping them elsewhere, and was planning to probe me for information about them, which was why I needed to escape and set them free.
“Look buddy, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Nicole shrugged, “There’s no way you’re getting out of here, not even if you had the whole Stock Heap backing you up.”
“Ooh, now there’s an idea…” I hummed.
Realising that I was very adamantly on a warpath, Nicole tutted loudly.
“I really can’t talk you out of trying something, can I?”
“Nope.”
“Then can I at least suggest you play dead for a few more days? You need to get your strength back, especially if Inigo’s planning to interrogate you. When he tortures someone, it’s usually a one-way trip, you understand?”
Dipping my chin to signal my concession, Nicole gently patted me on the head and ordered me to get some sleep, and then got up to leave. I painfully rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, and although I was determined to escape as soon as possible, my battered and exhausted body needed rest first. In spite of the pain, and the pounding in my head, I found it relatively easy to drift off…
“Hey, get up. Breakfast.” Nicole ordered, nudging me.
I awoke, again.
It had been my fifth day now in the Stock Heap, and I had spent the majority of my time getting to know the other slaves and prisoners while I was in recovery. In a short space of time, I came to know a great many names, faces, and stories, and above them all, I had become very close to a lad by the name of William Reed. Another Brit like myself and Nicole, William was a hilarious chap, and always looked on the bright side, full of life and enthusiasm.
He was also about as mad as a box of frogs… Without a care in the world, it was almost like William didn’t even know he was being forcibly held captive. As though he was the human incarnation of Pinkie Pie, the guy would merrily prance around the Stock Heap and try to lift everyone’s spirits with his nonsensical antics. His main act, to the bewildered amusement of everyone, was to put on a nasally high-pitched voice and run from prisoner to prisoner, begging for a Magnum ice cream. The absolute nutter had even asked the Stock Heap guards for one once, which resulted in a beating that he had deemed ‘totally worth it for the shits and giggles’.
There were a handful of other captives I had befriended, but William was certainly my favourite.
“Thanks Nicole.” I muttered, retrieving my… breakfast.
I was absolutely starving, to the point where it almost made the undercooked rice and boiled chicken skin look like a bloody banquet. Without a moment’s hesitation, I dug in, using my hand to scoop rice and skin into my gob. What little food I had been provided with was gone in less than a minute.
“Hungry by any chance?” said Nicole.
“Just a tad peckish.” I grunted.
Then from behind us, came the sound of footsteps, heavy ones. Everyone in the Stock Heap fell silent as the Red Boulder had the chain-link gate unlocked, and then walked directly towards me. Taking a deep breath, I knew it was time for Inigo’s interrogation, and from here on out, I was in for a world of pain.
“Wish me luck…” I mumbled.
Nicole gave me a sullen look, and I was suddenly seized by the throat and lifted to my feet.
“S-Sup, big boy?” I choked, wheezing.
Unamused, Vladimir squeezed at my neck until my face began to turn red. Gritting my teeth, I tried to keep calm and waited until he finally released me, knowing full-well that he wasn’t to harm me, at least, not yet.
“Move.” he grunted.
Giving my newfound allies a weak smile, I allowed the Russian to escort me from the chain-link block and out of the warehouse. A few rooms and corridors later, I found myself in the same chamber as before, and at one side were the girls, still in their cages.
“Callum!” they gasped.
Sighing a breath of relief to see them again, I immediately felt a surge of emotion course through my body. Once Vladimir had released me, I gave the girls a hearty salute and grinned, letting them all know that I was strong in spirit, and wouldn’t be broken by whatever was to come next.
“What are you so smug about? Hm?” Inigo murmured from a dimly lit corner.
Emerging from the shadows, the Bogeyman of Brazil strode up to me and repeated the question, and I couldn’t help but notice the deep red marks on one side of his face, of which I had caused.
“I said what are you so smug about!? Huh?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I responded with an innocent tone, “I’ve just been having the most wonderful time in the Stock Heap! The company’s lovely, the hospitality is unmatched, oh and the cuisine! That chicken skin with the undercooked rice? I mean, what a dish… Seriously Inigo, hats off to your chef.”
Both baffled and angered by my high spirits, he lunged forward and punched me in the gut. I tensed myself just before the impact and let out a low ‘umph’ as his fist made contact.
“That was a half-decent punch…” I wheezed.
Inigo gave a small whistle, to which Vladimir attached my chains to the same pulley system as before. Smirking, I held my arms out for him to make it easier, which left Inigo even more taken aback.
“What are you playing at, hm?” he demanded, “So what, a week in captivity and you’ve got some fucking Stockholm Syndrome or something? Huh? Come on, what’s going on with you Bro?”
“Well, you’re the host, and I’m the guest. Should I not abide by your house rules?” I posed, shrugging.
Blinking rapidly, Inigo found himself unable to properly gauge me. My change in attitude had been down to three main factors. Firstly, there was Nicole; witnessing her strength and nonchalance in the face of such gruelling adversity had inspired me, and I now aimed to mimic such a degree of indifference to Inigo, knowing that it would irk him. Secondly, seeing the girls again had pushed me through an emotional barrier. The drive to rescue them had overtaken all else, and I was ready to endure anything if it would eventually lead to their freedom. Thirdly, I knew Inigo wouldn’t kill me outright, because I had what he wanted; knowledge of where the ponies came from.
“Let me remind you that you’re only alive because I am allowing it.” Inigo taunted, grabbing my cheeks with one hand, “Once I have what I want, I’m going to slice you up and feed you to these horse girls, understand?”
Giving him a perfectly blank stare, I kissed my teeth, and decided that it was all or nothing.
“Counterpoint… Am I bovvered?”
From the far corner of the room, I heard a snickering from Pinkie Pie, who knew exactly what was coming next. Tilting his head, Inigo looked at me with confusion.
“I beg your pardon hermano?”
“Am I bovvered though?”
“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying I ain’t bovvered.” I drawled, “Look at my face, does my face look bovvered?”
“Okay, you're really starting to fu-”
“Bovvered?”
“Shut u-”
“But I ain’t bovvered, I really ain’t bovvered though!” I continued, “If you’re going to torture me, get on with it because this is well lame, innit! Seriously bruv, I ain’t bovv-”
Done with my antics, Inigo interrupted me by throwing a punch at my head, and despite swerving away to evade it, Inigo didn’t let up. Now enraged, he seized me by the shirt and headbutted me in the face, splitting my lip open and bringing the Lauren Cooper act to a grinding halt.
“Are you done now?” Inigo barked, clenching his fists.
Before I could rile him up further, he looked over at the girls and broke into a wicked smile.
“You know what, hermano? Let me answer that one for you.”
Walking circles around me, Inigo said that he had originally intended to give me a chance, to answer his questions and then return to the Stock Heap unharmed. But now that I had pissed him off, we were going to do something a little different.
“And I mean, you did ask me to torture you, so really this is on you.”
Clapping his hands twice, Vladimir lowered me down and untied me, while Inigo went over to the ponies.
“Listen up, horse girls! I want to play a little game. You like games?”
Squatting down in front of their cages, he explained that he was going to have some ‘fun’ with me now, and that a plus one was invited to attend the show. Then, with an almighty grin on his face, he ordered the girls to decide amongst themselves as to who that plus one would be. In simpler terms, he was forcing them to elect somepony to watch me be tortured. Completely shell-shocked, none of them spoke, but Inigo was not a man to be refused, and I watched with dread as he reached for his pistol, removing it from his leg holster and aiming it at Pinkie Pie.
“You know, this pink one here? This pink one really gets on my nerves, so you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to give you exactly thirty seconds to make a choice. And if you don’t decide, I am going to put a bullet…”
Making a whistling noise, he slowly moved his fingers to his own head, clicking his tongue loudly upon touching his temple.
“… right through her skull. So hurry up and make a choice. Clock’s ticking.”
I watched hopelessly as they all looked at one another, utterly beside themselves for having to make such a choice. Eventually, a candidate volunteered herself. Getting to her hooves and staring blankly into space, an already-broken Rainbow Dash declared that she would be the plus one. Putting his hands together, Inigo tutted loudly and hung his head with a melancholy expression.
“You know, that’s really fucking poetic. The one who already knows what it’s like, volunteering herself to spare her friends. Man, that’s some Marley and Me shit right there, nearly brought a tear to my eye! Look Vladimir, are my eyes not watering?”
Daintily flapping a hand at his face, Inigo looked over at his henchman and pointed to his eyes, which the Russian responded to by giving an awkward nod. It was then that Inigo chuckled and shook his head, pointing at Rainbow Dash.
“But the thing is, I think you’re being greedy. What, no one else gets to join in on the fun? No, I can’t pick you Blue, somebody else needs to have a turn.”
Without missing a beat, a voice rasped from the gloomiest cage, and Twilight Sparkle stepped forward.
“I’ll do it.”
Clapping enthusiastically, Inigo skipped over to the unicorn and praised her, unlocking her cage and beckoning for her to follow him. Vladimir then grabbed me by the hair and directed me to a small room adjacent to this one. The room had a great big wooden armchair in the middle, with leather straps around the wrist and ankle areas. On the walls were racks of tools, lots, and lots of tools, of which most were stained with browned old blood. There were saws, knives, hammers, pliers, there was even a drill, and on a table at the far back, beside a child’s paddling pool, was a large truck battery. Gulping and looking around some more, I noticed something far worse than the instruments of my upcoming torture, for at the back of the room, in a crude pile, was a seething mass of cyan feathers.
This was where Rainbow Dash had been plucked…
“Oh sweet Jesus…” I mumbled quietly, shivering.
Twilight was brought into the room after me, and clamped her eyes shut upon seeing the pile, gritting her teeth. Seeing her distress, Inigo forced her to sit next to it, ordering her to stay put. I was then forcibly sat into the chair and strapped in, and Vladimir went to shut the door, only for Inigo to stop him.
“No-no, keep that door open! Sure, Purple here gets to watch, but I didn’t say the others could not listen!”
Turning to face me, Inigo’s mouth slowly widened into a putrid grin, and he licked his bottom lip. He then leaned forward and whispered to me, his tone full of malice, and twisted joy.
“You are about to make a lot of noise hermano. You are going to sing for me like a little birdy, and your horse friends outside are going to hear every little song, so let’s not disappoint them, okay?”
He then glanced at Twilight, chuckled to himself, and then looked back at me.
“Now, let’s give your purple friend here a show she won’t forget…”