I dozed, on and off, for the next few hours while she slept. Hard to fall asleep in the position I was, but the exhaustion was a strong pull. The sound of metal banging on metal shook me awake.

“Wakey wakey bitches!” Another minion, one I hadn’t met yet. I growled at him. Percy straightened up without a word. “It’s time to shake those booties, princesses. Hans is waiting.”

We got up from the slab, slow and stiff. My shoulders were giving me hell but there was no way I’d show it. Grinding my teeth, I followed Perceneige through the open door of the cell without a glance for the moron holding it. He whistled as we walked, pushing us like an afterthought. The prisoners we passed didn’t move. Some of them didn’t even turn. 

I focused on Percy’s straight figure before me and stopped looking around. It didn’t take as long as I thought to reach the end of the row of cells. We were directed to the left, in another corridor, this one empty.

A room. Big,  stinking of unwashed morons and scented candles. Against the far wall, on an elevated platform, Hans. He was sitting on a chair, his flamethrower on his lap, grinning. He bent to his right to whisper something to what I assumed was his Second, who smirked. Not very reassuring.

When we reached the middle of the room, it fell quiet. Twenty or more men were assembled, silently gauging us, waiting for whatever punishment Hans had devised for us. Something nasty, I expected.

After staring for a while, Hans straightened his back. “So,” he said. “What should we do with you two?” He had the kind of smile you expect to see in a dark alley after midnight followed by a knife to the guts. “Helga would like to see you burn, but I think we should keep this for later. How about a good old whipping?” The minions jeered. They liked the idea. I didn’t fancy it much, but nobody asked for my opinion.

Percy raised an eyebrow. That was her only reaction, and I felt a smile pulling at my lips. She wasn’t afraid. She had expected worse. So had I.

Hans frowned at our absence of fear, and snapped an order to the Door Minion. I’ve never seen someone rush so fast to execute orders. “What an ass licker” I muttered. Percy smirked. 

Someone slapped me out of the blue and disappeared. “Coward”, I spat. 

But there was no more movement. They wouldn’t react to provocation again, not with Hans’ hand raised. I had to admit, it was disappointing. On the other hand, it might mean they weren’t Mad if they were able to maintain discipline. Or that the Madness had evolved. I couldn’t repress a shiver at the thought.

Perceneige tilted her head, like a predator who has found something interesting to observe. Her thoughts must have followed the same line. We both kept quiet. So did the minions, waiting for their friend to return with the whip.

It was eerie, this silence. Expectation, excitement and fear mingled in it. And Hans, grinning broadly, seemed the epicenter of it. He, too, had a predatory look about him. His hand stroking the flamethrowers in a disgustingly erotic way didn’t help. He looked like the creepiest Mad clown in the world. I wondered if he’d start drooling soon.

I never got the answer. Door Minion came back, followed by two others. They were carrying a whip and a stand, with metal lines and shackles to secure everything. I felt a little sick. The wood stank of old blood.

We were pushed back a few steps while they installed the torture device. Our bonds were finally cut. I closed my teeth on a groan of pain as my arms fell forward. They felt like they’d drop if I moved. The pain was intense, but I knew worse was coming. I looked at Percy. She was massaging her wrists, her eyes fixed on Hans, her posture still straight as a pole. Another staring contest. She won this one too.

I couldn’t even smile at it, despite the warmth that filled my heart. Too much pain. Shit, if it was this bad already, what would it feel like in a moment? The fear I hadn’t felt until now engulfed me. That was going to suck, hard.