Break Down

Chapter 7



Being smaller than his captor, the prisoners manacled, fisted arms came crashing down hard between the exposed shoulder blades of the tall general, who fell to his knees with the force of the blow.


Even as the prisoner was raising his arms to strike again, the silver haired man was turning his head, un-natural emerald green eyes glinting with amusement. This was just the reaction that Sephiroth had hoped to provoke from the boy. He had wanted to see for himself the strength this prisoner was said to possess.


As the second blow fell, the general reached out an arm of his own and blocked its descent. For a moment there was a struggle of wills, as both men resisted the pressure of the other, eyes locked on one another, neither giving an inch.


From his kneeling position, the general was at a disadvantage, the prisoner putting his slight body weight behind the force he was applying. But the boy also had a disadvantage. He was underfed, and physically and mentally exhausted. He knew he had to do something drastic, if he were to escape with his life.


He brought his knee up.....


The sharp crack of a bone indicated that damage had been done, and the general groaned and instantaneously clutched the side of his ribs, where the prisoner had made contact.


Knowing he had but scant seconds to get away, the captive took flight, fleeing blindly he knew not where, just the desperate wish for freedom fuelling him on.


Hearing the sound of soft padding footsteps running away, Sephiroth raised his head and pushed himself to his feet, an arm held tightly about his ribcage. The boy liked to fight dirty..... That was alright with him. He liked to fight that way too.


With a gloating laugh, the general began his slow, deliberate pursuit of the runaway. There was nowhere for the boy to run to. Nowhere for him to hide. He would be trapped and helpless in no time. And the general’s blood pumped faster as he thought what he would do to the prisoner, once he caught him.


Sephiroth was not a fool. He had already shut down and secured the holding area before he had even entered the boys cell. He wanted to know what a week tied up and left alone in confinement had done to the prisoner‘s body. What seven days looking at stark bare walls had done to his mind. Interestingly, it appeared to be having an auspicious effect on the boy. Sephirtoth was intrigued.


The prisoner wasn’t feeling so confident. With a sinking heart, he came up against yet another dead end, another locked exit. He quickly calculated in his head the number he had run up against so far, trying to think back to the last forked turning he had taken, wondering if he should try to make it back that far.


He knew he had to. He knew he had no other choice. Every single door that he had tried along the way had been bolted and barred. He just had to hope that, by going back and trying the other turning, at least one door might be open to him, one way out that would lead him to safety.


As he retraced his steps, the thought that he hadn’t come across anyone else in the long corridors didn’t really register in his mind. All he cared about, all he strived for, was an escape. The fact that there was no-one in his way to stop him was simply an added bonus for him, one less problem to think and worry about.


He made it back to the fork, and took the alternative turning, half heartedly trying each door handle he came across, knowing even before he did so, that they would be locked. Until his hand felt the catch of one door give way beneath his fingers.


Quickly looking back down the corridor to make sure he wasn’t being followed, the prisoner pushed open the door, and hurried inside.


Only to be brought up short by running straight into the hard, unrelenting chest of the general, who stood there immobile, his features set into a stony stare.


Even as the captive’s mind was frantically telling him to retreat, the generals powerful arm was being pulled back, and his fisted hand came crashing down onto the prisoners unprotected face, sending him sprawling backwards out through the open doorway, blood pouring from a gaping cut above an eyebrow, the thick red liquid pooling into the boy’s eye, blurring his vision.


Regaining his stance within seconds, the prisoner lunged forward and swung wildly at his aggressor with both chained hands, his own fists glancing a jarring blow along the taller man’s jawbone, snapping his head back, causing silver hair to flail outwards.


The punch, though hard, did little to topple the general. If anything, the only effect it had upon the man was to produce the mocking smile the prisoner was becoming accustomed to seeing upon his thin lips.


“That was a love tap, now let’s see what you’re really capable of,” Sephiroth sneered, advancing forward with purpose.


The ensuing scuffle was bloody and brutal, as each man rained blows down upon the other. It was also short lived as the manacled prisoner, already weakened and without the benefit of thick leather clothing like the general, began to drop his guard too many times, and punch after punch hit their mark on his body, connecting with the soft tissues of his stomach, fists pounding repeatedly and relentlessly at his upper shoulders and the back of his head as he tried to curl over and protect himself.


Eventually, the boy was beaten to his knees, his arms flung over his head and face, trying to ward off the devastating blows, while the general continued his merciless onslaught, only stopping when the captive fell forward to the floor.


“Good....but not good enough,” Sephiroth panted, reaching out a hand and grabbing the semi conscious prisoner by the roots of his hair, cruelly dragging the unresisting boy back to his white cell that way.


All the prisoner could do was to raise his hands up and hold onto the generals wrists, to try and take some of the pressure off his burning, tearing, scalp.


Back in the cell, the general didn’t even bother to throw the prisoner onto the mattress, simply releasing his hold of the boy’s hair in the middle of the small room, leaving him to lay there, curled up and exhausted.


The prisoner tried to speak, a groan passing his lips, words barely intelligible.

“You have something you want to say to me?”

The prisoner nodded, weakly, and Sephiroth lowered himself down close to the boys head so he could hear the faint words that were being uttered.


“Turn....off....that damn...light!”


“You want darkness so you can sleep?” the general asked, mirth in his voice as he stood back up, towering over the small huddled form of the beaten captive. “That can easily be arranged.”


And so saying, he brought back his heavily booted foot.