Coldsteel's Target

Chapter 7

Brooklyn had now forgotten how long he had been kept here in this strange underground building, which had been around a week and two days at the most. Coldsteel pushed him hard into eating all that awful junk food stuff. He once weighed 210 pounds but now had reached 214.

He swallowed, scared about being too overweight to escape, but Brooklyn didn't know how he was gonna get out of this and was feeling exhausted from the previous test where Coldsteel forced Brooklyn to fight more of his men along with having even sleeping gas shot in his way, though, the humans wore gas masks.

The red gargoyle trembled while holding his legs, recalling that horrible test, not wanting to get anymore sleeping gas tossed in his way. Suddenly, the cell door opened.

"Why good evening..." purred the voice of Coldsteel that made the back of Brooklyn's neck hair stand up on end, turning to glare tiredly at the robot.

"Leave me alone!" Brooklyn snarled. "I won't eat any more food from you!"

Coldsteel frowned. "Relax, I don't have your food yet. You're just going to your next little test, that's all." Brooklyn jumped up sharply, growling loudly but weakly. "I won't do that either!" He retorted.

That triggered Coldsteel's eyes to glow red, snarling which was metallic, Brooklyn backing up into the wall on his bed in fear but did his best to not show it. "Then this test I have should get you to gain some self-discipline!" He suddenly reached and grabbed Brooklyn's neck hard.

"Agh! Let me go!" shouted Brooklyn in anger and pain, those metal talons digging into his skin, wanting so much to get away. He didn't want to know where Coldsteel was now taking him. Coldsteel stalked along the hallway until he came to a closet room smaller than Brooklyn's cell, which also had no light.

Coldsteel grinned maliciously at his prey, who writhed in his grasp. "Now, little one, I wish for you to stay put in this nice closet, and to not make a sound. Or you'll get even more of a world of pain. Get me?!" He threatened viciously.

Brooklyn's ears flattened, not liking the sound of that at all but knew he had no choice, since there was no escaping this place apparently.

That caused the cyborg to nod in approval at how submissive Brooklyn looked, opening the closet, shoving him inside. "Now sit there on that bench. Don't move. Don't... talk. You will be in here for at least three hours. Be a good little hatchling, you hear?" cooed Coldsteel, Brooklyn struggling to get up onto the bench, and sitting in a position, eyes rounding when the door closed shut, a locking sound being heard.

Brooklyn gulped, wanting so much to hammer on the door to break it down, but his instincts told him not to move if he wanted to get hurt further. Plus, it was ever so dark in this room. He handled nighttime dark fine but not darkness like this.

He struggled his best not to move any of his muscles minus his chest, which began to breathe rapidly, gripping the edge of the bench with all of his might, gazing at what light he had from the bottom of the door. The darkness felt very condescending around him, sending waves of shivers through Brooklyn's body.

Also, with his lack of water, Brooklyn mostly licked his lips, the closet so dry and stuffy, the light on the outside of the door teasing him greatly about being stuck in this horrible darkness.

How Brooklyn longed now for the affections of his family, to just be away from this monster Coldsteel forever. Not to be stuck here, praying Coldsteel won't forget about him and leave him permanently in this closet. That thought terrified Brooklyn greatly, panting again, struggling not to yell, or move, but it was terribly hard.

Someone... please let me out... please! Want... water... air... Brook whimpered silently to himself, a bead of sweat on his forehead after an hour had passed. His mouth felt yucky, and he longed for the fresh taste of water down his throat, and to breathe fresh air. Brooklyn's wings were terribly cramped as well. He couldn't raise his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead either, the sweat falling down his neck and arms.