Break Down
folder
Final Fantasy VII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
890
Reviews:
28
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VII › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
890
Reviews:
28
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
9
The prisoner slowly, painfully, became alert to the world once again. And with that alertness came pain. It seemed his entire body hurt, from the top of his blond spiky hair, to the tips of his scrapped and unshod toes.
Through all of his soreness, his throat was hurting the most. It seemed to constantly burn, and when he tried to swallow it felt like sandpaper scraping the insides raw. With a grunt, he rolled over from his back to his side, and reluctantly opened his eyes.
It was with a sense of shock that he realised the area before him was bathed in semi darkness. His pupils opened larger and gazed upon the new, bigger room he found himself in, drinking in the vision of colours and textures around him.
He made out the dark brown walnut of wooden bedroom furniture against red brick walls, the black shiny metal handles of the dressing table and wardrobes standing out in contrast against the grain of the wood. He looked at the posters and paintings hung up, depicting battle scenes of horror and carnage, the scarlet splotches of fallen and wounded men drawing the eye.
The bed he was lying upon was a full king-size bed, up off the floor, the eiderdown deep burgundy in colour, and with crisp clean sheets and pillows of white upon it.
Pushing himself into a sitting position, the prisoner came to realise that, not only was he not in his own cell but...he was now also totally untied too.
Well, not totally...
One hand reached up and felt at the collar that was still bound around his neck. He wondered if it was that, which had saved his life.
A little hesitantly, he let his free hands roam down over his legs, touching his sore ankles, checking that they were alright. Then he let his fingers check out his still hurting wrists. Someone had bound them with bandages, and his finger tips lightly traced over the material.
His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts.
Who would have done this? Who could have tended to him with such care? Had he been rescued?
But no, he thought. If he had been saved by his own side, surely they would have dressed him, and stayed with him, and not left him naked and alone in a bedroom? Surely they would have removed the collar, as well as the other bindings?
He lifted his hands now to the warm metal that encircled his throat, and gave a half hearted tug at it. It was still securely clamped tight shut. A sure sign of imprisonment.
But his fervent mind wouldn’t give up the hope that somehow he had been liberated. And he began to think up a scenario of what could have happened...
Biggs and Wedge, two members of the undercover group that Cloud belonged to, had been left outside the main gates, as he himself had led the three others, Hardy, Dooley and little Jesse into the city. It was Jesses first time on an assignment, and Cloud had sworn he would look out for him.
It was supposed to have been just a simple, one day intelligence gathering mission. Split up into two pairs, and seek out the location of the guards posts. Take note of the number of sentry towers . Generally gauge the feel of the place and surmise how many of their own men it would need to storm and secure the entrance while more raided the arsenal for weapons and armour.
But something had gone wrong, and a shout had gone up. Prematurely, Jesse had drawn his weapon, and the people around him had started shouting and screaming. That was when Cloud knew he had to step in, to help protect the boy.
Pulling his own hidden gun from one of his knee high boots, he had joined in forcibly with the foray.
Out of bullets, and using his bare fists, he had seen Hardy and Dooley using the ends of their rifle butts on the heads and faces of the soldiers that swarmed around them, that were hell bent on capturing them.
The two scouts, Biggs and Wedge, must have heard the commotion going on inside the walls. They would have hurriedly made their way back to base camp, and the rescue operation would had been planned immediately. Even as he was giving up hope, his friends had been working on freeing them all along. And they had come just in the nick of time, tearing the murderous binding from around his neck, and carrying him here to this room, removing the manacles and tending to his wounds, waiting till he came around before cutting through the metal hoop surrounding his bruised and painful throat.
With a soft smile of satisfaction on his lips, the prisoner convinced himself that this was what had really happened. His friends had rescued both him and the other members of the team, and were waiting for him to wake up and join them.
With a feeling of certainty, he pushed himself off the comfortable bed and pulled back the covers, ripping the top sheet off and wrapping it around his slim hips before turning to walk a little shakily towards the one door in the room.
With each step he took, he found both his confidence and his strength returning, and it was with a firm and steady hand that he twisted the doorknob, and pushed the door wide open.
Through all of his soreness, his throat was hurting the most. It seemed to constantly burn, and when he tried to swallow it felt like sandpaper scraping the insides raw. With a grunt, he rolled over from his back to his side, and reluctantly opened his eyes.
It was with a sense of shock that he realised the area before him was bathed in semi darkness. His pupils opened larger and gazed upon the new, bigger room he found himself in, drinking in the vision of colours and textures around him.
He made out the dark brown walnut of wooden bedroom furniture against red brick walls, the black shiny metal handles of the dressing table and wardrobes standing out in contrast against the grain of the wood. He looked at the posters and paintings hung up, depicting battle scenes of horror and carnage, the scarlet splotches of fallen and wounded men drawing the eye.
The bed he was lying upon was a full king-size bed, up off the floor, the eiderdown deep burgundy in colour, and with crisp clean sheets and pillows of white upon it.
Pushing himself into a sitting position, the prisoner came to realise that, not only was he not in his own cell but...he was now also totally untied too.
Well, not totally...
One hand reached up and felt at the collar that was still bound around his neck. He wondered if it was that, which had saved his life.
A little hesitantly, he let his free hands roam down over his legs, touching his sore ankles, checking that they were alright. Then he let his fingers check out his still hurting wrists. Someone had bound them with bandages, and his finger tips lightly traced over the material.
His mind was racing with a thousand thoughts.
Who would have done this? Who could have tended to him with such care? Had he been rescued?
But no, he thought. If he had been saved by his own side, surely they would have dressed him, and stayed with him, and not left him naked and alone in a bedroom? Surely they would have removed the collar, as well as the other bindings?
He lifted his hands now to the warm metal that encircled his throat, and gave a half hearted tug at it. It was still securely clamped tight shut. A sure sign of imprisonment.
But his fervent mind wouldn’t give up the hope that somehow he had been liberated. And he began to think up a scenario of what could have happened...
Biggs and Wedge, two members of the undercover group that Cloud belonged to, had been left outside the main gates, as he himself had led the three others, Hardy, Dooley and little Jesse into the city. It was Jesses first time on an assignment, and Cloud had sworn he would look out for him.
It was supposed to have been just a simple, one day intelligence gathering mission. Split up into two pairs, and seek out the location of the guards posts. Take note of the number of sentry towers . Generally gauge the feel of the place and surmise how many of their own men it would need to storm and secure the entrance while more raided the arsenal for weapons and armour.
But something had gone wrong, and a shout had gone up. Prematurely, Jesse had drawn his weapon, and the people around him had started shouting and screaming. That was when Cloud knew he had to step in, to help protect the boy.
Pulling his own hidden gun from one of his knee high boots, he had joined in forcibly with the foray.
Out of bullets, and using his bare fists, he had seen Hardy and Dooley using the ends of their rifle butts on the heads and faces of the soldiers that swarmed around them, that were hell bent on capturing them.
The two scouts, Biggs and Wedge, must have heard the commotion going on inside the walls. They would have hurriedly made their way back to base camp, and the rescue operation would had been planned immediately. Even as he was giving up hope, his friends had been working on freeing them all along. And they had come just in the nick of time, tearing the murderous binding from around his neck, and carrying him here to this room, removing the manacles and tending to his wounds, waiting till he came around before cutting through the metal hoop surrounding his bruised and painful throat.
With a soft smile of satisfaction on his lips, the prisoner convinced himself that this was what had really happened. His friends had rescued both him and the other members of the team, and were waiting for him to wake up and join them.
With a feeling of certainty, he pushed himself off the comfortable bed and pulled back the covers, ripping the top sheet off and wrapping it around his slim hips before turning to walk a little shakily towards the one door in the room.
With each step he took, he found both his confidence and his strength returning, and it was with a firm and steady hand that he twisted the doorknob, and pushed the door wide open.