The sudden sharp pain in your chest was what hit you first.

With a broken yelp, your hand reached for your chest in a clumsy fervor to somehow aid yourself in a rising fear... weak in the attempt.

Lightheaded, you fall back down on the biting cold of a surgical steel table... you submit, unaware of your witness.

"A fighter," a low voice began, sickenly smooth had he not been your captor. "Good." Though you couldn't see it, it was the smile in his words that twisted something unsettled in your stomach.

With a blink of your eyes, you had swung; kicked; screamed... all of which was futile. Large hands - cold hands - gripped your shoulders and slammed you back down... a low groan escaping his chapped lips. There was a border of frustration and curiosity knitted between his brows that you had hardly caught... orbs of consciousness and bright light obscuring your waking comprehension.

"Thought you'd be good for me." He huffed, as if he was somehow convinced he had betrayed his own instinct. "Hope you would've proved me wrong, pet." His lips curled in distaste, not for you, of course... no, you were perfect.

Thick fingers rubbed your shoulders tenderly, a shiver down your spine in the foreign touch, despite his steeled grip. "Speak. Let me hear you."