Hidden

(XIX.)

Again, whoever was behind this was really good. He had to give him a little credit for trying.

The next sounds Eric heard had him jerking his head up. He squinted his eyes - vision still not one hundred percent - and peered into the dim corner on the left side, away from the moonlight. It sounded like someone was opening the door and coming in.

He heard the metal door shut, then noticed a black figure stalk slowly towards him.

The black figure was a man dressed in black clothes with gloves and boots of the same colour. His figure seemed familiar, but his face was still shadowed.

He sniffed but got almost nothing. Damn hot silver and its stupid effects.

Knowing it was best to remain silent and pretend to be down, Eric watched the man approach.

Moonlight did amazing things - besides helping werewolves heal. It revealed things hidden in the dark. In fact, light in general was a revealer of all things.

"You," Eric seethed angrily.

"Hello, Frederick. How was your evening?" Standing now under the moonlight rays to every eye's visibility, Adrian Maverick smirked down at the fettered teenager. "I hope you enjoyed Physics 101. How about Physics 102?"

"I'll kill you, you... bàstard." He gulped down the choke in his throat, not wanting to cough or croak in front of his nemesis.

Adrian tsked under his breath. "Remember who's in charge here, boy." That last word whipped a growl from Eric's dry throat, which made him cough a little. "Now, that's to teach you."

He started circling him at a slow pace. "I'm sure you remember the summer of 1853." He glanced at the scowl on the boy's face and smirked even wider. "Of course, you do. You should remember it like a vivid dream." He bent low so his lips were mere inches away from his ear. "Or rather, like a nightmare." He quickly moved back and continued his predatory pacing.

"I remember it, too. You howled like a lost, helpless puppy. You cried and whined for help, but nobody heard you. I'm sure if not for the blood bond you have with Konrad as father and son," he wrinkled his nose at that last phrase, "no one would've known of your suffering. And you could've burned, and burned, and burned. Until you couldn't take it anymore. Until you succumbed to your rightful place."

"You're sick," Eric spat.

"You can say whatever you want, but it doesn't take away the fact that I made the so-called mighty hybrid helpless and pathetic once in his life." He added with glee, "And I'm doing it again."

"Go to hell."

"Where do we start?" he murmured to himself, completely ignoring Eric. In a few seconds, a sadistic grin lit up his face. "Ah. I know the perfect thing. Just... hang in here. Okay? Don't go anywhere."

Eric almost rolled his eyes. Almost.

"I'll be right back."

Then, he strode out of the silver box.

It didn't take long for Eric to know what the bàstard was up to. And when he came to the realisation, he hoped to God his throat was ready.

As if on cue, Adrian's voice came from outside. "Are you ready?"

Definitely, Eric said nothing. What was the point? Ready or not, it was going to come.

The wall directly in front of him changed - the panels covering it slid open. They uncovered many round slots - about sixty of them - resembling the butt of a gun, pointing right at him.