Chapter Text
He felt a hand in his hair force his head back, and Hob Gadling met the eyes of one enraged Roderick Burgess.
Fuck.
The hand in his hair tightened again and he was shaken violently until he saw stars across his vision.
"I said, who the fuck are you?!" Roderick Burgess roared, eyes wild.
Panic and pain overwhelmed all of Hob's senses as his mind struggled to find purchase amidst the dizziness and disorientation. He doesn't know, he doesn't know. He reminded himself, as both a reminder and a prayer.
"Robert Glading." Hob gasped out. Please please please please.
"Are you one of his?!"
Relief flooded through his body ( he bought it ) replaced quickly by confusion. "What?"
Burgess threw him forward, Hob's shoulder crashing painfully onto the slick, stone floor. He risked a look around the room.
Fuck.
Between Burgess and the door was a distressed looking Edward, the previously missing guards, a young man about Edwards's age, and at least three other men - most of whom were aiming guns in his direction.
Hob's stomach sank. There was no way that he could fight past them, even if he managed to evade Burgess.
The man kicked at his stomach and Hob scrambled backwards in an attempt to avoid him.
"Answer me!"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" He cried.
Burgess laughed coldly. "Oh I think you do. You're like Jessamy aren't you? You've come down to save your master." The man turned to look at The Stranger. "Isn't that right, Dream? You tell me that he's one of yours and I might even let it live."
Burgess paused contemplating. "Or no, perhaps he's not one of yours after all. Maybe you're one of his siblings'. But which one? Despair? Destiny?" His eyes sharpened. "Death?"
The look in the man’s cold, calculating eyes was somehow even more chilling than the wild look from earlier. They pinned him in place and promised something, a something that Hob didn’t know and didn’t want to imagine.
“What are you talking about? I just wanted to see the demon!” He mixed truth and lies, hoping that his desperation would enhance the former and hide the latter.
“Demon?” Curiosity swept across Burgess’s eyes and Hob felt a dim flicker of hope as the look from earlier dissipated.
“Yes.” He explained. “I heard that there was a demon who could make you rich and I wanted to see it.”
“And just what were you going to do with my ‘demon’?”
Ice flooded his veins as he realized the trap that he had just walked into. “I… I…”
“The Endless is mine.” Burgess hissed, stepping closer to Hob. “I captured it. I control it. AND YOU THINK YOU WERE JUST GOING TO STEAL IT?!”
Suddenly, he brought the clubbed handle of his cane back and then struck it down onto Hob with all of his might. Hob curled up into a ball, bringing his hands up over his head in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the sudden onslaught.
“You were, weren't you?!” He dealt another blow, the crack of the cane on the bone of his shoulder echoed throughout the room.
“Answer me!” This time the cane hit his head, jarring the world out of focus. Hob curled up tighter.
“It -” Whack.
“Is -” Whack.
“Mine!” Whack.
The blows continued to rain down upon Hob. He’s really trying to kill you, isn’t he? A distant part of him thought. How many more of these can a normal person take?
“-ather! Stop!” The beating stopped as the sound of footsteps approached. At this point Hob hardly cared as the pain blossomed across his body, deep and sharp, threatening to pull his entire world down to that singular sensation. “You are killing him!”
“Why thank you for informing me of that fact, Alex.” Burgess sneered at the young man. “Interrupt me again and I’ll do the same to you.” He lifted the cane above his head again.
“But Father, look!” Alex yelled.
There was a pause and then Hob heard the sound of the cane coming back to rest onto the stone floor. Dazedly, he rolled his head over to look at what had been compelling enough to stop Roderick Burgess in the middle of his rage.
The Stranger was on both feet now, hands fisted against the glass. Hob had never seen such rage on the man before, not even when Hob had insulted him. His muscles strained with tension, knuckles stark white. His mouth was twisted into snarl. And his eyes blazed with open hatred at Burgess, who stared curiously back at The Stranger. If anything he looked amused by his reaction.
Burgess then looked back down at Hob, contemplatively.
“Did he speak to you?” He asked, walking back over to his huddled figure on the floor.
Hob moaned, not understanding what was happening, unsure of how to answer.
“I said, did he speak to you?” Burgess took his cane and jabbed it unerringly into one of the burning knots of pain in his shoulder that that cane had already created.
The world turned white, pure agony washing over and erasing every other sensation, even the notion of pain itself. Distantly he was aware of the sound of someone screaming, and even more distantly he was aware that it was him who was screaming. Far too soon though, the world and all its sensations rushed back to him, and with it came back the immediacy of the fire spiraling out from his shoulder. His sobs grated at his raw throat as he struggled for air.
“Well?” Burgess asked again and raised his cane, ready to jab him once again.
“Yes.” Hob gasped, his answer torn unwillingly from him.
“And what did he say to you?” He watched Hob with hungry eyes. Hob looked back at him, loathing the man with every ounce of his bruised body.
“He told me to run.”
There was a pause and then Burgess let out a laugh. “As well he should have.”
The man turned and snapped in the direction of the crowd behind them. “Lawrence. John. Get over here and bring the chains and the cuffs.”
He then turned around to face the glass prison. “Well Lord of Dreams, I guess I will let your little pet live tonight, since he’s been most informative. I assume that next time I come down here, you will be feeling a bit more talkative, so we can avoid all of this… unpleasantness.”
Hob heard the sound of footsteps accompanying the clanging of metal.
“Cuff him.” Burgess ordered. “Then I want him tied to that pillar there. Make sure that our ‘guest’ can see him. We don’t want him to forget what might happen should he prove to be difficult. And for god's sake, make sure that he can’t reach the damn circle.”
Tight metal was fastened around both his wrists and then he was being dragged across the wet floor, his now thoroughly ruined waistcoat and tailcoat doing nothing to protect his injured ribs from the biting edges of the stones. Each jolt sent a wave of rippling pain through his body, and Hob couldn’t prevent the groan that he released. Eventually he was deposited at the base of an ornately carved column. The cold marble would have felt wonderful against his battered body, had the expertly crafted leaves and vines not dug in roughly against his bones.
Then, a thick length of chain was snaked between his handcuffed hands and then around the pillar multiple times before being secured with a large lock. The weight of the chain pulled on his wrists, forcing him off of his - admittedly uncomfortable - resting place on the pillar and back onto the ground. He could have fought against it but any resting place, ground or not, was looking more and more appealing with each labored breath that he took.
Burgess came over once the lock was secured and kicked at the thing. Apparently it passed whatever test he had in mind because he simply nodded and said, “I suppose it’ll do for now.”
He looked then up at John and Lawrence who were nervously waiting on their Magus. “Sir?”
“Now this time do you think that you can do your fucking job and stay at your damn posts?” He asked them, sneering. Both men quickly nodded, realizing that they had probably gotten off lighter than they had any right to, and if they hadn’t, well then it wouldn’t hurt to suck up to Burgess in the meantime.
“And Edward… Davies, was it?” The young man in question jolted at his name.
“Yes, sir.” He said, eagerly coming over to Burgess like a puppy waiting for an expected treat.
“It was you who found our new guest, correct?” Burgess’s voice was calming, encouraging. Hob felt his stomach begin to sink.
“Yes, sir.” Edward nodded excitedly. “He told me that he was interested in seeing our demon. And when I saw how it reacted to him, I knew that I had to come tell you.”
“I see.” Burgess said calmly. “You did the correct thing in coming to get me, Edward Davies.” The young man beamed at the praise.
“I have a few things left to do down here, but why don’t you go wait for me up in my office? I’d love to continue this conversation with you there.”
Hob didn’t think that it was possible, but somehow Edward managed to smile even wider. “Of course, Magus! It would be an honor!”
The young man gave a quick bow and then hurried his way back towards the metal gate and up the stairs, only barely containing a visible urge to run. Burgess waited for a moment in the quiet of the room until the sound of the door opening and closing echoed back to them. Instantly, the warm mask dropped from his face.
“You three.” He motioned to three men in the group that had come down with Burgess. “Go take care of him.” His voice was cold and absolute. “I want everyone to know what happens to those who defy my will.”
There was no pause or hesitation.
“Yes, sir.” Hob watched in horror as the three men bowed and left. Oh kid, I am so, so sorry.
“Alex.” The man snapped.
The dark haired young man hurried over to Burgess, stopping a deferential distance away. “Yes, Magus?” He asked, his head bowed, not making eye contact.
“This Robert Glading is your responsibility now. Keep him alive for me until I come to speak with him again.”
Alex Burgess locked eyes with Hob, and for an instant Hob couldn’t decide who was more horrified by the prospect. But Alex said nothing except to nod out another, “Yes sir.”
Roderick waved him away and turned away from the group, making his way back towards the stairs. With each echoing step, Hob Gadling felt the enormity of what was happening finally hit him.
“You can’t do this to me!” He screamed at the man’s back. The metal cuffs dug sharply into his wrists as he pulled desperately on the chains.
“I have family!” Lie.
“Friends!” Lie.
“People will come for me!” Lie.
The man stopped in his tracks and looked back at Hob. “I think that you will find, Mr. Glading, that I can - as a matter of fact - do this. Now if you don’t mind, I have a party to return to.”
And Hob could do nothing more than hollowly watch the man turn away from him and ascend the stairs, taking his hopes for freedom with him.