Muzzy mind began grappling with sun far too bright.

This never happened. I didn’t sleep out in the open. Not ever, and especially not in the broad daylight. Far too many people wanted me dead to be passed out in clear sight. Which meant there’s been a terrible accident. I have to get up.

Couldn’t even cover my eyes to examine the surroundings. Paralysed? I struggled in terror and came to a different conclusion. I’ve been pinned down. Didn’t know which was more devastating – to have all hope crushed immediately, or save some for later.

“Waking,” a tremulous voice announced. Sound was dull and receding, facing away from me.

Who the fuck was this? With eyes still dazzled, ears scanned the surroundings. I registered two more people clattering around. Nobody was in a rush. Smells told me an inconvenient story of being in a hospital. I was restrained, then. Not good.

My crusty eyelids were ruthlessly ripped open and checked for a pupillary response. A man with monotone voice called out time and some health readings I couldn’t understand. I wondered about the date. Knowing how long they’ve kept me under would reveal how far I’d been transported.

I found myself able to lift the head up and examined the room. Standard surgery theatre. This could be anywhere at any time. Hairless people around me suggested depths of Kalanta. Oh, no. No, no, no.

Unimportant right now. Panic about that later.

Try hard as I might, my trashed fingers couldn’t reach to undo the tight clasps around wrists. What’s worse, there were more than just those two. Whole body was solidly attached to a table. My clattering teeth gave life to distorted curses.

This was no hospital, but a room of more sinister nature.

I will perish here, after a stretching eternity.

Perhaps I could stab the chief torturer with something from the laid out selection of tools? It was so close. So close.

Too far.

“I have been instructed to let you observe the procedure and be greatly forthcoming about it.”

Snooty learned man didn’t even need to state at behest of who it was to be this way.

I should have tossed that explosive straight at the lordling’s face! Would have saved me some grief. Sure, I’d be dealing with the forbearers then, but at least I’d deserve what was coming. This was a wild overreaction. Needless. Pointless!

The scion was not here. The voices neither here, nor in the rooms beyond carried the intimidating cadence. I had assumed the bastard would relish the chance to observe the fruits of his hard labour; bask in my dread from up close. He certainly was the type.

There was a chance he was getting operated on too – the car did crash. However, it was far more likely Raktkalis has lost all interest already. His job here was done.

“As inconvenient as it is, you will not be put under. No analgesics are to be used in the process either. A local paralytic will be administered to encourage muscle steadiness.”

Implications unsettled me more than I’d like to.

Grit my teeth. I can do this. My nerve endings have been severed exactly for these occasions. I can put up with a little of poking and prodding. Was determined to even playact accordingly to keep the interest fresh.

Just that nobody was here to watch. This wasn’t that sort of event. Procedure? That implied one quick thing rather than an interrogation where no questions would be asked.

Blood flow to my arm was wrenched off with a tourniquet at an armpit. Limb got drenched in ethanol. Syringes stabbed and stabbed and soon it laid completely still. I struggled without meaning to, but thick clasps held onto me tight.

At times like this, I really wished I could be articulate enough to hurl an uninterruptable stream of unhinged insults. If only I had my phone! I willed my arm to keep fighting, but it remained docile.

I’ll never be able to type with that hand again. They’ll take my voice away from me all over again!

Worse.

All of my limbs had tourniquets prepared underneath them. This wasn’t a bad joke. I’ll be but a cripple for life, however short that is supposed to be now.

I can’t be reduced to a hunk of meat. I had things to do. So many people to prove wrong.

“We will start with an amputation of left arm.”

An assistant brought forth a reinforced canister and put it to my left. A three-clawed appendage was pulled out like a gross pickle. Old man kept yammering, but all words suddenly lost meaning.

Turns out, my fears were unfounded.

Things will be much worse.

All of this, coupled with Raktkalis’s enigmatic remarks forced the sinister plan into full clarity. Surgeon’s words caught up with me too. Modifications. Body modifications. Adjustments.

Indeed. Simply killing one’s enemies was far too merciful. Even ripping away their self-sufficiency had potential of leaving the spirit unbroken – and that just would not do.

I have seen the nightmares dreamed up by that twisted mind before, yet failed to fully grasp the genius at the time. Stripping his adversaries of everything that once made them human; brainwashing into becoming lapdogs – that was the kind of living hell I could appreciate. From somewhere far, far away.

“No,” I whispered tentatively and then flexed my throat to do a much louder rendition. “N-nho. Do-hn’t,” I croaked out desperately. “I’m fahr moar uh-sefuhl k-kap-ahble! Youh. K-knohw. Iht!”

Wrinkly professional just smirked, conducting the final check-ups on his instruments, “If begging is indeed the reason for the retained cognition, I assure you – my lord has heard much, much better.”

This remorseless schmuck! I wasn’t begging. Should I, though? I ineffectually struggled some more, but leathery despair had its solid grip on me.