Light blasting into total darkness, especially when it's into the closed eyes of someone sleeping, can be so intense, it can cause an instant headache. For some, that headache can quickly become a migraine. It can be debilitating to the point all that can be handled is a curtained room, a bed and silence.

Light blasting into total darkness, especially when it's into the eyes of someone trapped in a metal cage and sleeping on a hard floor, is somehow more intense. There was no accompanying headache, thankfully, but there was shock and pain and confusion.

This was just what those brandishing the light wanted and, if it happened to be migraine inducing too, then so much the better.

He couldn't help swearing and holding up his arms to block out the blaze. He couldn't help scrambling backwards to get further away from whatever was blinding him. Was it a vehicle? A spaceship? His mother flicking on the bedroom light to wake him ready for scho...

No. It was Them.

The realisation came only seconds after his reaction, and he was already against the back bars of the cage. He knew what was coming. He was being taken away. Dragged off like his neighbour. He wouldn't allow it to happen! He'd hold on, that was it! He felt himself to be fairly strong so, even if they did manage to dislodge him, they'd have a struggle on their hands. He might manage to hurt one, if he was lucky.

He gripped onto the bars behind him, holding them as tightly as he could, and prepared to kick out at anything that might come too close.

The taser to his neck, applied from someone outside of the cage and behind him, where he hadn't expected anyone to be, released both his hands and his grip on consciousness.

It wasn't entirely the fluid injected into his arm that woke him. It was the act of the injection itself. The rough method of twisting his arm into position. The semi-violent rubbing of the skin and the needle piercing through. He jerked his hand away from the one gripping his wrist, not entirely understanding what was happening.

"Fucking idiot! Keep still. I nearly stabbed myself."

The voice was deep and gruff, sounding as if the Big Bad Wolf was moonlighting as a nurse and wasn't happy about having to.

"Watch your language in front of our guests," a softer voice said. It was smooth. Calming.

Scottish.

He recognised it immediately as his senses returned to him from they'd scattered to. He saw the hypocrisy in her statement, telling the other to not swear when she'd been very capable herself when they last met.

The Wolf muttered an apology and pressed something against the needle site. Probably a swab to stem any bleeding. So, they did offer some level of care, though it wasn't evident elsewhere.

"And speak up when you're with me! You know I don't tolerate mumbling. It makes you sound like an imbecile. Are you an imbecile?"

There was no vocal response, but he felt his arm moving where the pressure was, so assumed a head was being shaken.

"Right. Leave us."

His arm was dropped and it made a slapping noise as it landed on whatever he was lying on.

"Be careful, for fuck's sake. If you break any of these, you'll find yourself in the Vault. Is that what you want?"

Vault? What was the V...

"Speak, or I'll throw you in there myself! Fucking ignoramus. Don't mumble and don't just shake that fucking monstrous head. Use it! Do you know how to do that?"

"Y... Yes," said the Wolf.

His voice shook. Whatever the Vault was, had scared him. Or her words had. From the size of his hand and the depth of his voice, he was a large man. His tone was one of barely contained violence, even when he was afraid, so there was little doubt he was used to standing up for himself. Still, in the presence of the other, no matter her size or the lower gravity of her voice, he deferred.

"Well, how about doing so in front of me, sometime, hmmm?"

"Yes, of course. My apologies."

"Leave us, please."

The edge had instantly left the Scot, with the phrase spoken gently. Friendly, even.

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Francis."

"My name isn't Francis. It's..."

"Do I care? Do I give a shit??"

From the sound of movement, the woman was walking towards the Wolf, and the Wolf was retreating. There was a rushed shuffle of feet, followed by a door opening and closing, then a snigger from the woman. She walked back to stand beside him.

"My apologies," she said. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

A cool, damp cloth was laid across his forehead. It was allowed to rest there, then was used to wipe his cheeks and neck gently.

"You know, you're going to have to speak to me at some point. I can forgive your lack of an answer at our previous meeting, but a dog only gets one before he's expected to be house trained, if you get my point."

He didn't respond. Keeping his eyes closed had to be the best course of action, didn't it? If he pretended to still be out of it, they'd just send him back to his cage. It wasn't exactly a plan, he admitted. It was all he could manage for the time being. She had other plans.

The cloth was removed and nothing else happened for a few seconds. A hand suddenly slammed against his crotch and squeezed tightly.

His eyes flew open.

"Ah," there we are, the woman said, releasing him. "Forgive the physical intrusion. I had to, or you'd think you could continue to ignore me. I'm afraid you can't. That's not conducive to our work here. I'd like... I need you awake. Is that OK with you?"

He nodded quickly. He could still feel her hand on his groin, and there was nothing pleasurable about the ache or the throbbing. He should, perhaps, have felt violated. She'd touched him intimately and without warning. He didn't think there would be any chance to raise the subject, however. He could only do as she asked, lest she repeat the invasion.

"Good, good. I knew you'd be amenable. You don't want to give us any trouble, do you?"

He shook his head. He was staring up at the ceiling rather than looking around for her. She was on his left side, standing level with his waist, he could tell. That was all he wanted to know. What she looked like and any other details were not important.

But why?

Why was he so unconcerned about the woman's identity? Did he already know? Had the knowledge been erased along with the rest of his life, so he was avoiding seeing a familiar face in case it was too much of a shock? Or was it that chance there would be no spark of recognition? They would be a complete stranger, and he'd know they had always been.

"Excellent. I thought that would be the case. In fact, I said so, yes, I did. I said you would be special. You'd play along and you'd even volunteer. Do you think you'll volunteer?"

He nodded again, less emphatically. Volunteer and play along with what? Would he even have a choice? Volunteer or be volunteered? He was sure he knew.

"Good, good. Now, I'd like you to look at me, please."

No. He didn't want to. It would mean this was all real. Up until that point, it could have been a dream. A nightmare of epic proportions that felt so real but couldn't be. It couldn't. That was why he was hesitant. He didn't want any of this to be genuinely happening. Seeing her would remove any possibility that it could be anything else.

"If you'd like to act like a child, I can treat you like one."

He wasn't being childish. He was being afraid!

"One."

Don't do it. Don't give in.

"Two."

Wake up. Wake UP!

"Three."

Had his parents ever given him a similar countdown when he was young? He didn't have time to ponder. The agony shooting from the taser to his testicles obliterated any thoughts he might have had. He brought his legs up while shrieking in a voice so high, his vocal cords rasped with the effort. His knees came up and his torso bent over in a redundant defensive posture. The damage had been done.

"I'd like you to look at me, please."

He looked.

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