mad world

[fearpersonified]

To see a truck transporting goods throughout the city is not necessarily something out of the norm. In fact, it is a daily occurrence. However, today, a transport was sent out. A transport with no real destination and drop off. However, it does pull to park several blocks down from one Conrad Hotel

Comments

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark is a lot of things and rational is one of them, but there are some things he absolutely can't be rational about. He's not afraid of his demons-he has more than his share of skeletons in his closet and he was trained to think very little of them. They're inconsequential- something to be shoved far and away into the back of his mind. Very little in his past could really scare him that much, unless it could be connected back to McKenas Cole or (on some rare occasions when the hatred wasn't good enough) his father, but that wasn't what he feared most.

It hits suddenly and without warning as the gas is meant to do and all he knows next is that he's on the floor of his room, feeling for all the world like someone is torturing him to death, the pain as real as it would be in that situation and he knows what that feels like. His eyes are clenched shut and his teeth are gritted tightly and he's trying to rationalize this situation- that there's no way he's been caught or that anyone's actually torturing him, because when could that have happened?

Maybe it's all been just a dream and you're finally waking up.

And God that one lone thought makes too much sense to push away, because somehow nothing in this world ever did make sense- it could have very easily have been some sort of drug-induced hallucination that he was just now coming out of.

If that's true, they might have had the decency to let me live it a little longer.

Save for getting shot and the emotional turmoil he'd never endured before he arrived here (and Calisto, for that matter), it wasn't that bad... Well, it was, but it was better than dying slowly in... Oh he didn't even care where he was. He's not even going to bother opening his eyes to know what's being done and who's doing it. All that matters is that he's scared and he's dying.

And suddenly it stops- the pain doesn't recede, but it's not digging into his very core anymore, like whatever was causing him pain has been put away. He clenched his eyes shut tighter, but uncurls himself a little, vaguely aware that someone's leaning over him.

"Sark."

He'd know that voice anywhere and it never should have filled him with fear. With everything she was to him in ways she'd never know, executioner was never anything that crossed his mind. Perhaps that was because he thought he was invincible, because the alternative was far too frightening.

The alternative, as far as his petrified mind can tell, is also here.

He does finally look up and for all his physical location matters, he could be on the moon as opposed to a hotel room or in some torture room, because all he can see is Sydney Bristow with that look in her eyes he knew far too well. She had a knife in her hands- he would have never known her to use something so crass and vulgar, but maybe he was a special case.

He closes his eyes again, refusing to watch as the knife finds its way up under his rubs in a move that should have been fatal, but his heart doesn't stop beating. No, that would be a mercy, even if it would have still scared him more than anything else. No... The torture pains just come back once again, blindingly so until he's certain his heart will either give out or the pain will knock him unconcious.

Mercifully, loss of consciousness wins out.