#WHY MUST THAT TRASH WRITER BE INFLICTED UPON ME

[imperiuswrecked]

So I just found out that Jason Aaron (aka the worst Namor writer in the long 80+ years history of the character) is writing Namor.

I'm doing fine (lying).

[my-heart-is-made-of-graphene]

Shackles That Bend

(Title subject to change, previously called Chains Of Our Past)

Warnings: Electrocution, descriptions of pain, manhandling, beating, insults, swearing, blood-mention, bad mindsets

(I decided to post this one on its own due to the fact that I've hit a writer's block and have been stuck at the one chapter I promised I would then post all the chapters that had come before it. So here it is. The first chapter.)

Chapter 1. Shocking Pain And Three Shocking Words

This was the second time in this short time period that he had been quite literally jolted awake. The voltages coursed through his body like a wire and he felt blood literally and figuratively boil, with his already damaged nerves angrily aware of each individual volt that aggressively danced through them. His jailer truly knew no mercy, did he? A Rider is not to show weakness and he especially refused to show any signs of weakness to his torturer so he had to just inwardly grit his teeth and bare the qpain as he had to. His captor flipped back the switch, causing the electricity to cease. His pain didn't cease however. In fact, his body "hurt like hell", as his brute of a jailor would put it.

  He felt his chin be grabbed and dragged up roughly by a cold, armoured hand, "Look at me."

His nerves once again protested at the harsh way his neck was brought up to be eye level with the brute.

  "Disgusting."

  His jailor's words were spat out as though the appearance of the prisoner alone was so sickening, it could bring bile to rise up one's throat. Actually, The Stranger didn't doubt that, in all honesty. The Stranger didn't have a good grasp on passing time here but it didn't take much thinking for him to know that all this torture in such a short time span wouldn't do his body any good, but he supposed that was the point. His body didn't have much time in order to heal so he would be weaker and thus less likely to escape.

  "You disgust me. The way you bleed, the way you attempt to guard yourself like it'll save you, the way you fall unconscious after I hardly even touch you. I can inflict far worse pain to you. But that would just knock you out like a light, and where's the fun in that? Can i ask a you a question? Was it fun ending all those lives down there?"

The Stranger isn't versed in the concept of 'fun', as 'fun' was only temporary. His mission had far more weight than 'fun'. Your silence speaks volumes." The Stranger's lip tugged a smidge south and his eyes squinted a small bit. It didn't go unnoticed. "You truly are pathetic to think that I don't notice. You're worthless, your kind must have expected you to fail. And your failure is why you are here. But I'm so glad you did," his jailer--no, as much as referring to the crooked warden by his title hurt, this was the easiest of hard truths to bring forth--The Chain moved his hand from The Stranger's chin to his cheek and rubbed it in a way that was almost affectionate before removing his hand from The Stranger's face and flipping back on the electricity, "because I can watch and inflict so much pain as I want on something that is also very much so capable of inflicting great amounts of pain upon others. It's a great feeling. For me, not for you. Your people were likely just trying to get rid of their garbage. But as the saying goes, one man's trash is another one's treasure."

The Chain laughed loudly at him in a sadistic manner. The Stranger tensed as his muscles clenched with the electricity rippling through them.

  Sometimes, however, it's the verbal blows that hurt worse than anything physical. The Stranger didn't have all too much time of his own: time to think and plan and such. If he wasn't being tortured then he was unconscious and recovering from his injuries. It was rare for him to be awake without any abuse occurring to him. But he was thinking now, and the hard truths seemed to hurt worse than the shocks administered to him.

  His thoughts just regurgitated The Chain's words back at him. The shocks felt numb to him. The thoughts sunk their metaphorical jaws in deep. There could be no further denying it, The Stranger had failed his Star. He was without meaning. He was discarded garbage. Is The Star waiting? Why? I've failed. The Starship doesn't know that I've been captured, but surely The Star has lost faith in me carrying out the mission, right?

  The only thing close to a purpose anymore for him was this repetitive cycle of abuse. It was always the same methods: electrocution, beatings, manhandling, insults threats, and occasionally, The Chain would sit there on a chair doing nothing at all but reading a book and tugging that heinous switch on and off. That last one was hurtful in its own way. It symbolized what hurt The Stranger the most: the knowledge he was worth nothing and that this torture was what he deserve. If he were to return to The Star, their termination would be too merciful. The Stranger was a Rider and a Rider was created to serve a purpose; to carry out the tasks. His task was crucial. His memory was a haze but he knew he had to return to his Starship and destroy thia planet. He did not forget. It was crucial. That makes it worse. The Stranger wishes that he forgot. Having his role reversed on him was an incredibly degrading feeling. He hates this.

  He hadn't noticed but the shocks were no longer coming. He only noticed after The Chain slapped him across the face.

"What is going on inside that head of yours? What thoughts are going on up there that have the ability to make you so oblivious? Aren't you suppose to be an observant little warrior? You already got the latter part wrong. Come on, speak and enlighten me. I know you aren't mute, I've heard the noises you make before you're about to pass out. Or when I catch you off guard." The Chain hummed in curiosity, "I've been told that you don't seem to feel pain when you had first been dropped at my doorstep. But I know you do. You feel pain just fine. It's sickening, because, well, it makes you that more human. I noticed this a long while back. You really got on my nerves that day. You damn near looked like the pain would've made you cry. But your kind doesn't do that. You do a lot of things you aren't supposed to, though, don't you? Maybe I'll prove the scientists wrong that can cry too. Y'know, if you had only done what you were meant to, then you wouldn't be in this pain." The Chain stepped away from The Stranger. The Stranger's eyes followed The Chain's movements as he walked away.

  The warden murmured something that wasn't within the audible range of a human from this distance. The Stranger picked up on it however due to his larger range of hearing, "if only I myself had conformed." The Stranger looked to his jailor with a stranger look on his face: an expression that he doesn't recall looking at him with before. Most of the looks he gave his tormentor were hate-filled and angry. This one was just simply curious.

  The Chain looked towards him. The Stranger couldn't tell what was going through his head though, the masks obscured his true face. Or at least, The Stranger was relatively sure that there was one beneath all three of the masks. "So, you heard me. Such a peculiar specimen. This isn't a face I've ever seen you make. It tempts me to flip back on the power," The Chain chortled a bit upon seeing The Strangers face in response to that remark, "but I won't." Why?

  The Chain never showed him any quarter. Why now? "I can tell you are confused, Stranger. Not all prisoners here are in shackles. I never wanted a job like this. But this is a result of the choices I've made. You could make a choice. Fight me and my fellow guardians and escape. Destroy our planet. I'd like to see you try." The Chain laughed sardonically then grabbed the Rider by the arm. "Haha, no. You seem to have no real mind of your own though. You're spineless. If you had a spine, you would have made your first attempt months ago. You sick fuck: maybe you're enjoying this treatment."

  The rage that coursed through The Stranger drowned out all of his pain. He never wanted to be belittled again. He hates to admit it, but The Chain was right, he's just rotting here. He wanted to put an end to this. He was going to return to his people and he was going to complete his mission. Any who opposed The Stranger would be cut down.

   The Stranger growled in frustration and writhed in his restraints. The Chain slammed his fist into the middle of the rider's chest in response. That sent pain blooming across The Stranger's body as it seized harshly. His face held a look of pained surprise. The Stranger, try as he did and may, could see no way to get out of these binds. Unless...

  At that very moment, an insane idea popped into the Rider's mind. But he's already decided that he would escape at all costs. This will just be one of those costs. The Stranger was going to have to use words if he was going to communicate this idea then and he just hoped he had enough of an understanding of the Earthen tongue to be able to properly verbalize what he wants to say.

He looked up and locked eyes with his jailer; his own cold black and blue ones to the cold glass eye-slits of his jailor's mask.

  "Escape with me."