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Consciousness slowly found him, the comforting warmth of sedation slipping away as rough, icy tendrils crept into his mind, flowing down his spine to spread through his extremities, one by one. His fingers twitched, then his toes, until each one of his limbs was filled with the prickly sharp cold of awareness.
Phenex groaned when a dull ache started at the back of his head, throbbing in a steady cadence as it reached his temples. Opening his eyes, he looked around, unable to make out much of anything, at first; all he could see were dark, fuzzy shadows. Eventually he could see shapes, the blurred outline of a door coming into focus. As his grogginess finally started to fade, he attempted to put a hand to his aching head, only to realize he couldn't.
What the hell happened, anyway? And where was he?
Am…am I paralyzed? No…this is something else, entirely. He reasoned. If I were paralyzed, I wouldn't be able to move my fingers. So what the hell—
He glanced at his arms, realizing that they were splayed out on either side of him, thick manacles encircling his wrists; peering down, he noticed his legs were much the same, his feet firmly planted on the floor with chains on his ankles, holding him flush against the wall, his body forced into the shape of an 'X'.
Idiot, He scolded himself, of course—you're chained to a wall!
The events prior to him losing consciousness gradually came back to him; his battle with Reeves, fire leaping off of him in monstrous waves as he sent one jet of flame after another at the Shade, ducking and weaving to evade the shadows the other controlled. He had just gotten him down on the ground, had been prepared to deliver the final blow, when…
Phenex growled when the final piece of the puzzle fell into place, his arms shaking with barely contained rage as the image of a seductive, dark-haired woman came to the forefront of his mind.
"Iris…" Her name came to his lips like a curse, his breath coming in fast, shallow bursts as he looked around the otherwise empty chamber he found himself in. It figured that the half-siren had resorted to using cheap tricks, launching a sneak attack on him when he'd been focusing all of his attention on Reeves. Being as powerful as he was, her earlier attempt to use her siren's song against him had had no effect, whatsoever; judging from what had followed—and the position he found himself in, currently—it was safe to assume that she was a very sore loser, indeed. All it would have taken was a quick stroke of one of her wrist barbs, and whoever dared defy her would be rendered immobile.
And he had dared.
Now we know for sure, he concluded, vaguely taking notice of the countless shackles lining the dungeon's walls. They were crusted with suspicious, reddish-brown stains that he could only assume had once belonged to Iris' past victims, the firebird suppressing a shudder at the thought. There's no doubt about it—she's in league with Reeves.
But how, he didn't know. It was something the council had suspected long ago, but for whatever reason, they had never acted on it, and the next thing he knew, charges had been filed against Hercules instead, the demigod shipped off to the realm of Nowhere before he could even ask him what had happened.
T
hanks to Athian, maybe I'll finally get the chance to ask him, he thought. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of the informant; he had promised Athian amnesty, had promised to keep him safe from Reeves and whoever else might do him harm—and he had failed. And to top it off, now he was stuck here.
Well, that was about to change.
Gritting his teeth, Phenex began tugging against the manacles with renewed vigor, the sleeves of his leather jacket sliding down to reveal the straining tendons of his forearms. Unfortunately, this only caused the manacles to cut into his wrists further, blood trickling down from where the metal bit into his flesh. As soon as the wounds had healed, he tried again and again, even going so far as to turn himself into a blazing inferno—all to no avail.
What the hell are these cuffs made of? He seethed, panting from the effort. Were they magically sealed against his fire, somehow?
He didn't have time to figure it out, for at that moment, the thick, industrial door on the opposite side of the chamber opened with a bang, the metal reverberating when it slammed against the cinderblock wall behind it. Pale, yellow light pooled across the concrete floor, stopping just short of where he was shackled.
A shadowy figure stepped forward, his features obscured by the halo of light surrounding him. With the familiar swishing of his coat, the smart clack of dress shoes against the concrete with each, deliberate step taken, and the telltale, raspy chuckle—there simply was no mistaking who it was.
Reeves.
"Well, well," the Shade taunted, tapping his palm with the flat of the knife that he held in his other hand, "Look who's finally woken up."
***
"Torture me all you want, you bastard," Phenex snarled, ignoring the pain of the manacles cutting into his wrists when he began pulling on them in earnest. "I'll die before I tell you anything!"
Reeves' mouth twisted into a malicious grin, his piercing blue eyes staring mockingly at Phenex from beneath the brim of his fedora.
"Aww, but Phenex, buddy," He simpered, idly twirling the knife in his gloved hands before slicing through the thin material of his captive's t-shirt, exposing his midsection, "Where would the fun be in that? The first part of your idea has merit, though. Believe you me, pal, after everything you've put me through? I will be torturing you all I want. Dragging information out of you is just a bonus…"
He pressed the tip of the knife lightly against his skin, Phenex involuntarily wincing at the sudden contact. Reeves flashed him a feral grin, his eyes glinting coldly, savouring his reaction. Phenex gritted his teeth, watching as he slowly drew the tip of the blade from one hipbone to the other, deep, crimson blood trickling from the shallow wound as he pulled the knife away with a satisfied smirk.
Exhaling through his nose, Phenex's gaze flicked from the blood-coated knife, to Reeves' devious grin.
Mustering up his strength, he barked out a laugh. "If that's really the best you can do, you're in for a long night!"
"Oh, I'm counting on it…" He began adding vertical notches along the horizontal gash, Phenex biting his lip to stop himself from crying out, every stroke of the blade causing his abdominal muscles to spasm in protest.
I'll be damned if I let you get any satisfaction from me… He vowed silently, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. When I get out of this, Reeves, you're mine; we'll see just how tough you are when I'm torching you!
Several excruciating minutes passed until Reeves, appearing satisfied, took a step back to admire his handiwork. Phenex fought against the sudden desire to sag in his bonds, his arms and legs trembling with exhaustion as he glowered at the Shade. Reeves simply chuckled, pulling a thin vial out of one of his pockets and holding it up to what little light was coming in through the rafters overhead. Phenex eyed the viscous, green liquid within the cylindrical tube warily, the back of his neck beginning to prickle.
"You're probably wondering what this is," Reeves declared, uncorking the vial with one hand while pulling the glove off of the other with his teeth, "Well, there's no need for me to tell you; you'll see, soon enough…"
Adding a dollop of the substance to the tips of his first two fingers, he pressed them against the gash on Phenex's midsection none-too-gently, spreading it to every inch of the wound, and finishing with a sharp prod to the centre. The pain flowing through him was beyond anything he'd ever experienced before, the green concoction seeming to have some sort of chemical reaction to the over-abundance of heat his body provided, burning the wounds from the inside out—almost as though it was using his own fire against him.
To make matters worse, it seemed to be hampering his body's natural regenerative abilities, preventing the wounds from closing. His torment was far from over, however, for Reeves pulled out the knife once again, and started slicing all along his chest and sides with reckless abandon, leaving Phenex absolutely no time to steel himself against this new barrage while his midsection continued to throb with searing agony.
Reeves was panting by the time he had finished covering him with lacerations, his eyes glittering feverishly as he stared up at his captive. The knife clattered to the floor, the Shade dropping it in favour of pouring more of the green liquid onto his fingertips, his lips stretching into a cruel, sadistic grin when Phenex gave an involuntary shudder.
He couldn't stop himself this time. A guttural scream tore from his throat as Reeves began smearing more of the substance into his wounds, the sharp, burning pain pulsating throughout his entire upper body until agony was all that existed for him. He hated himself for crying out, hated the unshed tears stinging the corners of his eyes; showing weakness in front of the enemy was tantamount to throwing his very pride away—and showing weakness in front of Reeves was the worst of all.
More than anything though, he hated being so defenseless, so completely and utterly powerless against such a cowardly foe—one he knew he wouldn't be in the clutches of right now, if not for the deception the Shade relied upon so heavily.
Once he was done applying the green liquid to each one of Phenex's cuts, Reeves pulled his leather glove back on, and smirking, made his way to the opposite side of the cell, picking up a metal tin Phenex hadn't noticed, earlier, no bigger than a shoebox. He didn't know what fresh hell Reeves had in store for him, but he couldn't imagine it being worse than what he was already enduring.
As Reeves presented the contents to him, however, shoving it no more than an inch beneath his nose, he realized just how very wrong he was. If the searing pain coursing through his torso didn't turn him into a writhing, screaming mess, the iridescent, ethereal ice in Reeves' hand would change that.
"Now, are you sure you don't have anything you wanna say to me," Reeves peered up at him, twirling the chunk of ice in his gloved hand, "Something to do with that little human pet of yours, and what her connection to the artifacts is, perhaps?"
Sweat trickled down Phenex's temples, his body shaking from both the torture Reeves had inflicted on him, and the fatigue setting in from hanging against the cell wall. His wrists were sore from where the manacles cut in, his wounds continuing to throb as the green concoction frothed along the edges, prevented them from healing. He was certain he knew what it was, now, something he'd read about once in the Spectrum's archives; one of the very few things toxic to his kind—to most every species of entity, in fact—able to take a physical form.
Elder root. The word flashed through his mind just as he had seen it in the giant, leather-backed tome so many decades ago, written in bold, Theban script. He would have to leaf through the book again, once he got out of this mess.
If I get out of this mess, He corrected.
"There is only…one thing…I want to say to you, Reeves…" He panted, baring his teeth as he stared down at him. "Enjoy this while it lasts—because when this is all over, I will show you the true meaning of suffering!"
Reeves laughed in response, shaking his head as he traced the edge of one of Phenex's wounds with the ice, the magic within it making it far more potent than any ordinary cold substance known to the mortal realm. Ethereal ice, if used against a human, could freeze them from the inside out, killing them in an instant; but against Phenex, it only added to the slow torture he was being subjected to. Frost coated his flesh where the ice touched, the sharp bite of it burning him the way fire did to most everything else.
"You know Phenex, you couldn't be more cliché." Reeves declared, Phenex straining against his bonds when he held the ice against the large gash in his chest, just below his tribal sun tattoo, "You may as well be one of those comic book heroes you hear about in this world. 'I'll die before I tell you anything!'…'Enjoy it while it lasts…blah, blah, blah…' Ha! Don't make me laugh, firebird! With what I've got in store for you, what makes you think you'll survive that long?"
The sharp, biting cold filled the entire right side of Phenex's torso, working down through his ribcage and into his navel in a way that he could only imagine was the equivalent of dozens of ice cold razorblades sliding back and forth across his skin; just barely nicking the surface, over and over, slowly peeling away each layer until all that remained was a searing, burning pain deep within. Eventually, the pain was beyond unbearable, for Reeves had begun trailing the chunk of ice in a sort of horizontal zigzag pattern, repeatedly following the exact same trail until a thin layer of frost had built up on his chest.
All Phenex could do was scream, his throat raw and burning, each one of his muscles taut and trembling. Between the elder root concoction coating his wounds, and the sharp coldness of the ice, the two agonies had melded together to form one, excruciating, debilitating torture. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure of how much more he could take, before sweet, merciful unconsciousness would come to claim him—assuming it would come at all.
***
