Left

Why would you leave me?

Barry slowly came too, his head thrumming with pain, only trumped by the agony of being shot in his shoulder. His eyes slowly cleared, revealing the colour and shape of the pipeline. Turning his head slightly, he was met by a sight that drained the very blood from his body. 

His 'friends' and 'family' were staring at him, a range of weapons at the ready in case they needed to shot him in the back again. Like he needed to be shot in the back again, the pain - mental and otherwise - was still lingering painfully from earlier, where they all came together to shoot him. 

They shot him like he was a wild animal, penned him - caged him - like he was a misbehaving dog, an animal only trained to obey to their orders, not freedom, not to the displeasure of the master. Guess that was what he was to them, an animal that they could pin-up when he did not follow what they say. Like they said before, 'they were the eyes and the brains, he was the legs'. He was their animal, their slave to whim to whatever they said.

Lifting himself, his teeth clenching painfully as the needle in his back moved in its wound. Guess they did not care enough to remove the needle from his back? Who would blame them, who would need the animal to be in comfort while they were being punished? Ignoring the pain, he got up to his wobbly feet, crashing into the walls of the pipeline, jarring the needle further into him. His silent cries were met by a group of stoic faced people - why should he call them 'family' or 'friends' anymore? So that they could actually stab him in the back? 

"Why...?" He croaked, his voice hoarse. He stared at all of them, watching as their mouths opened, replying to his question. "Why?" He croaked again, his mouth unable to form any other word or letters. Their silent words echoed loudly around, ringing between his ears. 

Finally, the silence broke, even for the slightest of moments, the whisper of someone Barry once thought to be his best mate solidifying in his ears. "Sixty-forty." Was his only words, the only words before the silent speech continued until they left.

-------------

Barry felt like it had been hours since they have left, maybe it was - maybe it was only a few minutes. They could try to run down back to him, releasing from this Hel, but no one had even tried to show any sign of caring, no movement from the camera hidden not so carefully in the corner. His mask was covering his face, preventing a display of emotion, emotions that were running havoc on his worn body. His stomach had long since growled, now it was just whimpering painfully, Barry barely keeping himself from copying the sounds with the pain that he felt.

His knees ached from kneeling for so long. His neck had a creak to it, stiff from only looking down at his lap, at his gloved hands that laid limp over his scarlet covered legs. The pain from his shoulder had spread through most of his body, numbing over in certain, others - like his back - flared like the most powerful of flames. 

If someone was to look through the camera, they would see their hero kneeling. Given up, not showing any hope or positivity that the sparky hero normally possessed. They would see the paleness to his checks, the black under his eyes or the once bright eyes, dulled with hopelessness. A needle sticking out of his shoulder blade. They would also see a punished animal, whose strict master had caged him because of disobeying an order. They would see a wild animal, stripped from its freedom, locked into the cage where people could continue to stare at him through glass panels. A zoo animal who was spent too long within its claustrophobic walls. If one was to dare to look for long enough, maybe they would see the animal, their once bright hero, collapse, falling onto their side. So sudden, blink and you would miss it. 

To once see the scarlet-shape stare at their hands, then to see the scarlet-shape collapsed on their side, the needle wedged deeply into their shoulder.