But, None Of That Matters.

Chapter 1- Shuttle

Victor's minions; chubby idiots with unwavering loyalty towards their 'master'. If there was just one of them, I'd probably be able to take them, but for some reason, they're a lot stronger when they're together.

"I wasn't." I pray that they don't wake him up, but this thought might even end up counterproductive.

"Don't you think it's about time we wake him up?" Says one.

"I agree, I'm sure he's itching for some fun with Shuttle..." Says the other as he pushes me, harshly at their master's desk. "Oops. My bad."

I could hear them snickering as I turned to find a very red-faced Victor staring as if to burn holes right through my head. And my heart's racing; I could already taste blood.

"I-I-I'm s-so-sorr-y."

"I feel a bit of de-ja-vu. Don't you think?" He cradled one fist in the other, and his face only got redder. "Maybe, I should teach you a lesson."

I guarded my nose hoping that he wouldn't aim for it; as it still hasn't recovered and I don't want it getting any uglier.

But, his first aim was at my stomach and then my jaw. His eyes still screamed with anger; this pain, alone, wasn't enough.

"What lesson's next?" He spat with gritted teeth.

"Sport." The slightly smarter minion replied.

"Great... Shuttle and I will skive." Were the last words I heard before I lost consciousness; must've been another fast jab (punch) at my jaw.

"Maybe you shouldn't have hit him so hard."

"I don't regret it. Couldn't we just do it now." Sounds like Victor.

"Don't you think it would be more entertaining if he woke up?"

"Fair point. Hold on... He's faking it. He's awake." Damn it.

I tried to move. But, I can't. I tried to speak. But, I can't.

I'm cold.

I'm petrified.

And I don't want to open my eyes.

I'm in a cell?! The decoration is minimal apart from a few dark charcoal drawings, here and there. The heavy cloud of smoke is overwhelming and the sound of machinery whirred. I'm tied to a cold chair.

Other than me and Victor, there was one other guy. Probably the same age as us except, the number of piercings and tattoos could deceive you into thinking that he is older.

"This is Bobby Cross. Otherwise known as 'Shark'. Maybe you've heard of him?"

I nodded, even though I had no idea what I was agreeing to. I have no idea where I am; who Shark is; what they will do to me or whether I will live long enough to see tomorrow.

"Samuel the Shuttle boy, I've heard quite a lot about you from my close pal, Victor. And I must thank you for volunteering to be my guinea pig."

"I think it's pretty damn obvious that I didn't volunteer." I muttered, but I already regret the words that fell as quickly as my heart is beating,  and as loudly as a porcelain dish hitting a tiled floor. They heard it.

"You're dead."

Shark raised the tattoo gun and pressed it into my skin at Victor's command. Harder and harder. My skin ripped open on my chest. The pain is agonising.

I scream and scream and scream.

But, no one hears me.

I look down and all I see is blood and black smothered on my nonexistent abdominals and pectorals.