Chapter Text
He woke up to the most killer headache of his life, like something was trying to claw its way out. His heart felt like it was skipping every other beat, and the world was spinning even without he opening his eyes.
Every new emotion, every thought, brought light pain to where his head felt its worst. There was the headache but he also felt the pulsing of a forming bruise upon the very spot. He rubbed it lightly and winced.
What had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was… lost on him.
He was sure he was in the middle of something before this but his head felt too scrambled to make sense of it. He felt in danger, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Yet he felt like he couldn't fight nor flight when his body felt like it had been turned into liquid.
His chest began pounding excruciatingly, yet softly. Panic attack? Blood in his lungs? He was sure the idea that he was dying was valid as well. He felt disconnected and lost from his body while at the same time feeling every nerve at once.
Every breath possibly was his last. He could feel the wind beating against his face, less of a gentle caress, rather a wake up call. To not give up. To open his eyes and face the world outside his aching mind.
Not being one to take advice, clenching his eyes shut tighter, he threw an arm across his face and groaned.
What did he remember? If he could tell himself his own name he would put those fears to rest but right now he just tried to ground himself to reality.
The next thing to hit him was the acidic vomit smell in the air. On him too, he realized. What little he could process, it smelled like it was pure stomach acid.
His stomach growled as to confirm his suspicions, and cramped to rile him up. The smell filled him with misplaced surge of burning rage, like not keeping up with eating had been why he was laying here on hard ground now.
'Fuck me!' he mouthed through clenched teeth, unnerved when the sounds he wanted didn't leave with the action. His throat hurts too, didn't it? It was hard to make sense of it with his head wound but his throat didn't feel right either. Nothing felt right at all.
He went over what he knew. His head hurt, and he couldn't remember the last time he ate. His throat felt wrong and no proper sound would leave his mouth. None of that filled him with much hope.
Opening his eyes finally, he moved his arm, and spotted it coated in blood. Somewhere under the acidic smell there surely was metallic as well but he could make no sense of it.
He raised his arms to the sky, the limbs feeling heavy but good to stretch. How long had he been laying here? Had to have been some time now. There was a nagging feeling, like he'd forgotten something important. A lot of important things, at that.
The sky was dark and the air was chilly. Wasn't it something like March now? He couldn't say. He lowered his arms and traced his throat, wincing upon contact with the wound. It was still sticky with blood.
That slice couldn't have been there long before he woke up ass to pavement. Nonetheless, he didn't really feel confident saying much of anything about where he was or why he was alone in the night.
Or, not so alone as he should be. To some direction of his, there was a growl, a snarl, and then in his slightly blurred vision was some mysterious object pointed right at his throat.
"Stay dead, dammit, Pico." An inhumane hiss followed the end of the object. Inhumane, because whatever it was, it could only be categorized as a monster. Sticky black gunk only broken up by narrowed red eyes and a toothy grimace from the beast. "I'm gonna rip your guts out and eat them in front of you. Not a lie."
The monster moved its way aside but left the object near his throat sitting there. He looked down, vision only slightly better now, and saw what was barely an inch from his throat. A microphone. Why did it need a microphone?
He immediately mentally kicked himself for being concerned about that when the monster was leaning to his stomach, claws sharp and teeth showing through. Despite how small it looked, he knew better than to assume tiny meant harmless. Especially when he was in such a state and this creature was so close by.
He whimpered, a sound barely there but certainly he felt what little he could muster made his point, because this seemed like a painful death compared to just shutting his eyes and passing on like that.
He couldn't have been more surprised when the creature stopped before it could start its assault, claws just barely dangling above his stomach. It was hard to tell it's full thoughts, lacking most facial features but it didn't like his reaction to the pending meal.
"Did you just...show fear? Not that you're not allowed to, but I expected some fight, maybe a lowly comment about my size." The beast pondered it's next move, moving to make eye contact with him, frown turning into a devious grin.
It put its hands on either side of him and leaned its face close to his. "Go Pico, yeah yeah go Pico." Its tone was mocking but he didn't know why. None of that meant anything to him. Did it?
He shook his head lightly, so as not to prolong his headache, yet trying to indicate he was just as confused about the whole thing as the monster was, if not more. The monster snuffed, seeming suddenly indigent, and putting its face close to his. "Oh Pico, oh Pico. I could rip you apart where you lay. I should… but I won't until you tell me what is going on here."
Once again he shook his head. He couldn't tell the monster what he wanted. He couldn't tell him anything at all.