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It was dark, completely dark. There wasn't even enough light came through to give even the slightest hint of a silhouette. Somehow the silence and isolation felt calming as Brax blinked in the dark looking for any clues of where he might be. His limbs were all numb and he had no idea if he was successful in trying to move them or not. For the most part they seemed fixed but as he couldn't really be certain.

He took a few breaths of the cool night air to calm down. The realisation of the fact that there was a very real possibility that he wasn't going anywhere seemed somewhat less troubling when there wasn't really anywhere to go. Immobility was quickly becoming his default state of being anyway; the way things have been going lately. Despite the lack of sensation though, he remained fairly convinced of the fact that his legs were probably still attached and operable.

"Help," he called out softly in a little experiment. There was no answer so he called out again a little louder hoping to hear a friendly voice, "Help." As he was about to give up, a warm hand placed itself upon his shoulder. It felt almost like a vague tingling sensation over most of his side. He couldn't quite place what it was or where on his body it in general was either.

"Just relax, you'll be fine," a dragonite said, "You're on some pretty serious medication right now. It's going to be a bit disorienting, but you're in a safe place."

For some reason, he felt compelled to believe it was safe despite hearing the voice of his abusive master. The hand brushing under his chin dissolved into a mess of strange tingling and the blanket being placed over top of him felt like it was crushing him under its weight. It was nice not having to be crunched up for once, and it was even nicer to be warm.

Edward gave the ninetales a kiss on the forehead, whispering, "Get some sleep and things will start making sense again when you wake up."

It seemed like good advice. The bed was also much softer than the metal cage bottom he had been sleeping on all this time, he felt warm and he was free of anal toys and torture implements.

*** *** *** ***

The next thing he heard was an echoing voice fading in and out, "Brax," it called out the first time. He wasn't sure if he had actually heard it or not and didn't want to be bothered. The voice sounded like that of a charmander's and there just wasn't the mood to deal with anything at the moment. He kept his eyes shut and refused to move, half hoping to just go back to sleep. "Brax," it called out again. This time, he was more certain that he had heard it but it just wasn't a good time to be calling. Thus he ignored it and hoped he could pass for being asleep. "Hey slave," the voice finally yelled.

That last one prompted a reply, somewhat groggily he groaned, "What?" hoping it didn't mean trouble.

"I knew you had to be there," the charmander said, "What happened to you?"

"I got hurt badly," he said, mind too much of a mess to think of specific details.

"Yeah, I can guess that much," she said, "But like how?" Crystal asked.

"I just want to sleep right now," he said evasively.

"Sounds good," Crystal said, "I guess I could probably use some rest too."

*** *** *** ***

He woke up again a few hours later, this time it was much easier to think. His eyes opened and found that he was looking at a wall, just a little distance in front of him. It was a soft green tone, probably dry wall, but he couldn't reach out and touch it. A quick glance confirmed that his legs were indeed still attached, but they just wouldn't move. He strained trying to lift a forepaw but nothing happened. To some surprise, he found that his neck wouldn't move either. That dreadful posture collar didn't feel like it was still on. It was getting annoying, there was a tingling sensation extending basically from the neck down and it was getting annoying. The blanket was still over him but he didn't seem to remember how it got there.

"Hello?" he called out, feeling a little worried.

"You're awake again," Crystal said from behind him.

"Where am I?" Brax asked in a somewhat aggravated tone.

"This is a hospital room," Crystal replied, "Just relax, they'll take good care of you."

"I don't remember being brought here," he declared.

"Well, you were there when I came, so I can't really tell you anything about that," she said.

"When did you get here and what are you here for?" he asked.

"It was about two hours ago," she explained. "I met up with an occupational hazard, had an angry scyther going after me," she joked about it like it was no big deal. "Just chill out and relax for a while, master will be back to check on us shortly."

"Someone had better come check me," he complained, closing his eyes again as he started to develop a head ache, "It hurts badly, I'd like to know how I'm doing and I think I'm on some kind of strange drug, which is really creeping me out."

"Do you want to signal the nurse?" Crystal asked trying to fish the call button out of the sheets.

"I guess it isn't all that important," he said feeling insignificant. "I'll live," Brax continued in a quivering voice. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed as the headache started taking over.

Crystal run her fingers over the call button wondering and wanting more information before she bugged the staff, "Not really much doubt in your survival, but maybe there's something that'll make you more comfortable?"

Brax whimpered a bit and eventually groaned, "I don't think so."

"Well, I'm not really sure about that," she said, "You don't really sound all that well. Maybe it would be good just to find out what's going on with you."

"I don't want to bother anyone," he said trying to curl up but at the same time unable to move, "I just want to be alone."

The charmander shook her head, "You won't be bothering anyone. They are here to take care of you."

It had become annoying now and he just wasn't in the mood for it "Well, you seem to think you know best," he said, "Go for it if it'll make you happy."

A brief silence ensued before the door creaked open and a set of clicking footsteps followed by a set of softer ones entered the room. It was the nurse, a pidgey, followed by Edward holding Stacey in his arms, "You've got guests," the pidgey announced before checking over the monitors.

Edward immediately walked over to Crystal's bed and dropped off the Rattata before heading over to talk to his ninetales.

"Hi," Stacey said rubbing her side up against the charmander, "I heard you were hurt and came to visit."

"She had some nasty cuts, lost a bit of blood. It's not exactly too serious and largely taken care of. Though I wouldn't release her just yet," the pidgey said hopping past, "Over here though is our real wonder patient. Three broken legs, one of them in two places and a seriously messed up knee."

Edward brushed the ninetales' ear back, sending chills through head, "That was quite the performance you put on there. I know I'm not always the best at this, but maybe next time you intend to hurt yourself you can tell me in advance so that I can get medical out there before hand."

Brax felt even more confused now, "What exactly happened?"

"It's probably not a good idea to tease him right now. His recent memories are going to be a little fragmented for a while. It's an unfortunate side effect of the drugs used to aid tendon regeneration. Expect it to last anywhere from hours to a week," the pidgey explained while jotting down a few figures, adding, "He isn't scheduled to be taken off that for another hour or so. I wouldn't expect him to remember anything you say to him till it's had some time to clear his system." The pidgey turned towards the ninetales before finishing, "and I apologise for being bitter, you gave me quite a bit of attitude on my last trip."

"I don't remember that," Brax said innocently.

"I figured you'd say that," the pidgey chirped on the way out.

"No really, I don't remember," he said once more.

The big dragonite pulled up a chair and sat down beside the ninetales, giving him a pat on the head, this time the pressure was burning in a throbbing pain. "It's ok, we won't hold anything against you until you're normal again. Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"Miserable," Brax replied immediately before pausing a moment to collect his thoughts. "I can't move and everything is hurting me, people are mad at me and I don't know why," he was raising his voice as he went along. "And will you please stop petting me," he yelled, "It really hurts when you do that."

"Oh, sorry," Edward apologised once again withdrawing his hand, "I guess I should fill you in on what happened if your memory is fragmented."

Brax closed his eyes briefly. "It would be nice to know just how I got into this situation and just what kind of situation I'm in."

"The situation was sort of like this," Edward began, "I had you tied up standing on one leg and your other leg was bent over with your ankle tied to your knee. As usual, you were being bad little resistant slave and so stayed up there for some time. You were starting to become dehydrated, so I went to get you some water and well, Crystal was there before. She was the one who tied you up originally. You wanted her to leave and she lingered for a while and was on the way out when I went to get you some water and well, the story went like this..."

*** *** *** ***

Edward stood in the doorway and looked over the slave from behind with a vodka bottle in his hand. It was an old empty that he had which was now filled with water. Both of them knew that alcohol and dehydration didn't mix well but he wanted to see how his slave would react. If he would drink the supposed brandy as instructed or possibly out of thirst or if he still cared and was thinking clearly enough to refuse it. Just around the corner was a completely ready to go enema with a bardex nozzle for rehydrating him from the other end should things get difficult.

Waving the bottle in the air, the slave awoke to the moving silhouette on the wall. "I found a little treat to help relax," he started as he entered the room, "Its some nice vodka, from my personal stash. I bet you it'll really hit the spot right now."

"Are you serious?" the slave asked, more or less counting on the collar to keep his head up.

Edward shook his head and reminded him, "You're forgetting to call me master again." He opened the bottle and took a long dramatic sniff of its contents muttering, "That's some nice stuff," before pulling it away from his nose again. As he walked around, he pointed the opening of the bottle towards the ninetales, almost bringing it in contact with the slave's chin and added, "I should punish you for that by making you chug this."

It was back to playing the game for the Brax, he was known only as slave and the only thing he would call that dragonite was master. He was slow to admit that it really was in his best interest but was at a point where he was willing to go through the motions to avoid getting hurt further. Without giving it much thought, he apologised, "I'm sorry master, I'll try my hardest to remember."

Edward settled in front of the ninetales and took a little sip of the cold crystal clear fluid in front of the slave. "Care to try some?" he asked holding the bottle out, "It's good stuff." With the bottle under the slave's nose, it should have become obvious that the bottle didn't contain what he claimed it contained, but the slave just could not think with all the pain and the threat of dehydration. Once again, he tried to shake his head, only managing to pull off a slight wobble. "I love when you do that," Edward said, "But really, take a sip."

The slave whined and opened his mouth, allowing Edward to pour a little bit of water into his mouth and moisten his lips. He was still largely under the impression that it was vodka and swished it around his mouth, not wanting to swallow it.

"A bit more?" Edward asked as he held the bottle up and swirled the contents around a little. The slave only looked back at him, delaying. Not really willing to face the consequences of refusing and at the same time, not really wanting to go through with it. "Come on, it's going to take a bit more you can really appreciate what this stuff is," Edward said, taking another sip of it, "Some really nice stuff here." His free hand reached out and opened the slave's muzzle a crack. It was submissively limp, but wouldn't open too far for him. Edward lifted the bottle and sucked back nearly a quarter of it in his large dragonite mouth. The large creature bent down so that his puffed out cheeks would be level with the slave's dry mouth.

The slave gazed back at his master with a pair of dead eyes as their lips met in a firm embrace. Within moments, he was swallowing reasonable amounts of the liquid as the dragonite passed it into his muzzle through a nice long open mouth kiss. It was somewhat warmer this way, but he was actually getting enough for it to actually be refreshing. Slowly the thought started settling in his mind that this was probably more or less a game. The dragonite's tongue licked across the tip of his own and flickered softly up and down as it pushed waves of water into his mouth.

"How was that?" Edward asked as he swirled the contents of the bottle around once more.

The slave blinked a few times, still under the impression that it was vodka. He closed his eyes and pleaded, "Please master, no more, I need water, not alcohol."

Edward shook his head looking disappointed. "Did I ask if you wanted more slave?"

The question proved to be an intimidating reminder of who was in control. "No master," the slave squeal, hoping to avoid additional punishment.

"Good," Edward began, as he pinched the slave's cheek. "Perhaps you'd like to answer my question now slave?"

"Yes master," the ninetales squeaked, "It was very nice, but I don't want any more."

"So tell me, what would happen if I kept giving you alcohol in your current state?" Edward asked. He wanted to stall for a while to give the water some chance to enter the slave's system before forcing the ninetales to drink a bit more.

"I'll dehydrate further, master," the slave sobbed. Even after all that had been forced upon him, he still felt a desire to live. To die this way certainly wasn't going to be a dignified death.

"If you don't want to be dehydrated, perhaps you should drink a little more Edward said while he lowered the bottle to the ninetales' white muzzle again.

"Master?" the ninetales asked, successfully stalling the process for a while as the bottle backed off a little, "Please listen to me, I need water, alcohol will make things worse."

Immediately, the bottle was forced back to the slave's lips "Please, listen to me," he repeated back mockingly, "You do not talk back to me and you do not question what I tell you to do."

The slave looked out towards the bottle, as he questioned the wisdom of drinking more. Instead, he shifted his eyes upward towards the imposing gaze of his master and asked, "Master?" He couldn't think of anything more to add, so he just stared back and looked pathetic.

Edward attempted to calm the slave down and gave the ninetales' head a rub between the ears. "Trust your master's judgement and drink the vodka," he insisted. The two stared at each other for a moment, neither of them saying anything, neither of the budging. "Go on, drink some more and I'll tell you some good news," Edward said while he gave the slave a pat on the cheek. As usual, the master won out over the slave as the ninetales' reluctantly obeyed, and granted him an open mouth in which to place to lip of the bottle.

The bottle tilted and started pouring water into the slaves' lower jaw. He let the cool liquid pool around his lower jaw for a moment before he started drinking it. It was soothing to a certain extent and he found himself a little more relaxed while he was drinking. He took a deep breath and kept drinking, wondering when his master would stop pouring. The stream slowly tapered off to a stop and Edward gently pulled the bottle away, brushing off the fire pokemon's lips afterwards.

"Feel better now?" Edward asked while holding the bottle at about eye level to show that there was about a quarter of it left. "Take a moment to relax and think before you answer," he instructed the slave. His hand brushed up around the ninetales' ears, and then circled down along the back of the head.

Brax had already picked out what he was going to say in his mind before his master even finished and was only waiting until it seemed like enough time had passed for him to make an appropriate answer. His bent leg was quivered from the strain of having been tied up and unable to move for so long. "No, I don't, master," his voice quivered.

"Did you at least enjoy your drink?" Edward asked, as he held the bottle up and inspected it, "I'd have to say it was very good. You did drink quite a bit of it."

The slave started to twist a bit from side to side; his leg trembled back and forth. "It was nice, master," he said with his teeth chattering. His eyes watered and he whimpered as his other limbs soon joined in the trembling.

The dragonite took hold of the slave's shoulders to try and steady him. Things suddenly didn't appear to be going as planned. Taking hold of the ninetales with one arm, he braced the creature against his shoulder, freeing up a hand in the process. He felt around his side for his trusty club. Tucked away in the handle was a sharp knife, concealed from the world in much the same fashion as cane swords. His slave was now breathing in very shallow rapid breaths, drawing in little fresh air and not deep enough to make it to the lungs. He was guaranteed to pass out soon, should the situation not be corrected shortly.

Edward worked on cutting the slave down, as the shaking grew worse. It was getting hard to keep the squirming ninetales steady. The rope flew around wildly, dodging left and right, avoiding the blade. It was frustrating, and it was taking precious time. The blade grazed the rope a few times, as Edward reached higher to where there was less movement. He couldn't let go of the slave now, but at the same time, he wasn't going to be able to cut the rope easily from this height. Panic began to set in for him too, as he blindly swung at the air, only occasionally nicking the rope enough to cause superficial damage. A couple tries later and he finally got lucky, cleanly snapping the rope with a loud crack as it gave. Brax screamed out at the same time, the sharp jolt of his forelimbs being jerked upwards and then finally allowed to drop after hours of being held upwards.

Brax came crashing down off Edward's shoulder with a thud shortly after the rope holding him was cut. His leg clearly bent off to the side at an unnatural angle and a second blood-curdling scream ensued as he twitched about for a few more seconds before coming to an abrupt halt. His forepaws rested in front of his nose. Underneath the rope, a hairline fracture had developed during the struggle. The bent leg also looked pretty bad. There was going to be some definite ligature marks there and the fur and skin seemed to have peeled off. Of the three though, it was in the best shape and would heal on its own ok.

Things were still once more. Things were calm and blissful. Just a ball of empty unassuming space, where nothing seen, and nothing is remembered. Tranquil is the mind in such a state, absent of though and sensation. Removed from the world in a state of unconsciousness and unaware of the situation was the closest thing that he got to relief.

There was an initial moment of shock as Edward paused in surprise, wondering how he could have let the slave roll off his shoulder like that. He quivered at the sight of the broken leg, sympathetically stunned by the pain. After the shock wore off, he crouched over the ninetales and drafted up a brief prioritised plan. On top of the list was to check for a pulse, not it would change what he would do after. If he couldn't find a pulse, then he'd use the call button to get a medical team to rush in, if he could then their expertise would still be needed and he'd hit the call button as well. Last on the list was cutting the rest of the rope off. It could wait help was on the way.

Edward unbuckled the straps holding the posture collar in place and peeled it away, showing the pressure indentations left behind from prolonged wear. A nasty looking ring of raw flesh circled around the base of the head as well as the shoulders. They were small and there were no patches in between, showing a good match between the collar and the neck, but that wasn't important at this point. On either side of the neck towards the back of the skull were slightly larger pressure marks where the bulk of the pressure from his constantly turning neck was held still.

Reaching down, the dragonite felt around and rubbed the neck trying to recall exactly where the pulse could be found on ninetales. He started with the general area of the side of the neck, sweeping forward till he hit the throat. Finding nothing, he ran his fingers back towards the spine, again finding nothing. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It looked bad but he suspected that it was likely just because he had gone over the area with such haste and panic. Bringing his fingers to the ninetales' neck again, he swept forward from the spine, moving slowly and pressing downwards into the skin. A look of worry filled his face as he slowly approached the point where he had originally started his search.

He assured himself that pulses were generally located in front of that point and kept sweeping his fingers forward, breath growing shallow in the process. A small pain started to build in the pit of his stomach as he started repeating his original sweep. It should be somewhere in that area. Fur or no fur, it should be there and obvious. "Where is it?" he wondered to himself as his fingers slowly closed in on the throat. Bit by bit, the fingers lurched forward, as Edward began holding his breath. "It's there, got to be there," he assured himself. Gradually, his fingers came to rest on a weakly wavering piece of flesh. Feeling that little patch of pulsating skin under the fur brought much relief to the dragonite. Though in hindsight, he realised it was really just a self-assurance thing, as he didn't really do anything lethal.

The first step in the plan was finished and it was now time for the second step. This place, being what it was, getting emergency medial attention was easy. Edward looked up and glanced around the room. In almost every room of importance there was a pair of call buttons somewhere, one for security, and one for medical. Further more, there were smoke detectors practically everywhere. They really tried to cut down on risks. He spotted this room's panic button set-up next to the door.

It wasn't going to be long now before help rushed to the scene so it was time for one last thing before he was done here, cut the rest of the rope. He grasped the small blade in his hand again. It was meant for use as a last ditch weapon, short, double edged and more of a spike than a blade. It was not something that easily broke through rope or cut things carefully.

Work began on the worst looking leg first. It was physically attached to the room and thus the most important one to free if the slave was going to get help. The safest way place to cut the rope was at the stick, which also made this the safest rope to cut first. He held the knife firmly against the pole and slid the blade downwards, hitting the rope firmly and snapping several fibres. The blade worked its way back and forth a few times; slowly working it's way through. The limb started drifting, as the rope grew loose, the snapped fibres recoiling back and fraying away at the sides in a growing pile of fuzz next to the incision. Finally, he raised the blade up and gave the rope one last thrust in the middle of its weakest point, snapping it with a bit of a click. The knife kept sliding, leaving a mark on the post from its tip, landing weakly on the next set of rope.

The weak blow barely scratched the surface and the dragonite decided to take another swing at it using the post as a guide. It snapped quite a few more fibres creating a notch. Content with the results, he started sawing back and forth across the rope again slowly wearing it down till it gave way, freeing the first limb.

He decided to go after the bent leg next. Gripping the rope tightly in one hand, he began to work his fingers under, hoping to lift it away from the skin to avoid further damage while cutting. A little distance was gained and he slides the tip, scraping its way out. A mere handful of strands were severed on the first assault but he kept at it and slashed through the rope in a good number of strokes.

As the rope peeled back, it revealed the strong pressure dent left from all the struggling. There was white fur all over the place, the pink flesh showing through in several spots where the thinning was the worst.

By the time he got started on the last set of rope, help had finally arrived. The door flung open with a mighty kick from a hitmonlee pulling a stretcher on a cart. Behind him stood a chancey that circled around in a hurry.

She was running the first few steps and quickly dropped to her knees by the patient to do a quick check. She held a hand out by the ninetales' nose where a faint breath indicated signs of life. Her training allowed her to quickly locate a pulse with her other hand. It was weak but stable enough for transport. "Help get him on the cart," she ordered.

With little effort, the larger dragonite slid his arm under the fallen beast, holding him against his chest as he walked over and gently placed the unconscious slave on the stretcher. It was a great relief for him to see them disappear down the hallway. His part was done for now.

*** *** *** ***

The ninetales tried to pay attention through his current confused and hurting state. It was hard, but he was determined to hang on to most of the story so that he could feed his spiral of pity. One point stuck out in his mind pretty bad though. "You really expect me to believe that you got me thinking the water was actually vodka?" Brax asked curiously.

Edward smiled and joked, "Why do I get the feeling that we'll be having this talk again later on?"

"No, really, I don't believe that part of it," Brax said in return.

"None of this sounds the least bit familiar to you huh?" Edward curiously asked.

"It really doesn't," Brax repeated.

"And it shouldn't," the pidgey said stepping in again, "Anything that didn't have the time to make it into the long term memory before then is gone for good." She hopped over to the IV and twisted a few dials. Then she popped her head in between the ninetales and the green wall, a friendly little gesture to try and be more personal rather than talking to his back all the time. "And this will probably go easier on you if you just let things go and get some rest. Keeping thoughts in your head trying to remember things at this point isn't worth the struggle."

"Does that mean I can basically say whatever I want to him at this point?" Edward joked as the pidgey left. "Well, how about we talk over making a few changers to your appearance? Your thigh practically begs for a property marker to be branded on it."

"You'll melt your iron before you manage to get it hot enough," the slave snickered.

"Then let's pierce your cock instead," Edward suggested, "I think you'll look cute with a Prince Albert piercing. Though seeing what you'd look like as a girl is another very tempting idea."

"How about we don't," the slave insisted, feeling somewhat disgusted at the thought waking up with major changes.

Edward once again drew his hand up and brushed the ninetales across the back and once more the ninetales felt anything but what it should feel like, and yielded no indications of discomfort in his paralysed state. "Does that still hurt?" he asked.

"Yes," the ninetales growled quickly and suddenly the idea of sleeping through this didn't seem that bad anymore.

"Get some rest," Edward said with a slight chuckle. His hand hovered over his slave's immobile head briefly, threatening to inflict more discomfort before withdrawing quickly.

One visit taken care of, he turned his attention to his other wounded slave, Crystal the charmander. She lay there silently with Stacey wrapped tightly in her arms. The rattata rested her head just under the charmander's chin. Stacey rested quite comfortably against the warm smooth chest of her companion.

"Master, would you mind if I gave a bit of feedback?" Stacey asked.

"If you think that was mean, don't say it," Edward insisted.

"Yes, master," she replied. Twisting around in Crystal's arms feeling somewhat uneasy. It seemed excessively cruel to her. Being unable to express her disagreement left her feeling frustrated. However, part of her felt that her mentor would later be able to provider her with some justification or means of getting her feelings heard. She may have accepted that there was a place here for her where she would be happy, but found strong disagreement in forcing the life she has now onto those who seemed genuinely unsatisfied. Something in the way that Crystal's calmness and acceptance of the matter disturbed her. Was she also supposed to take the same accepting stance that anything her master did was justified? Was this just another one of those carry out your orders no matter how disagreeable they may be situations that the raichu had taught her about? This was going to be hard on her mind for some time.

"It's good to know what I missed out on," Crystal remarked. Her face displayed a cheerful smile, as if their objectives were the same and the methods used agreeable. Either she had no objections, or knew not to question her master, or perhaps she knew a better time to express herself. She clutched the twitching rattata a little tighter in her arms, squeezing their chests together. Their rhythmic breathing helped Stacey calm down a little.

Edward lowered his hand and brushed back the little rattata's ears with his index finger as the she stopped twisting around. His finger curled down Stacey's neck and pinched the scruff of her neck between his thumb and forefinger. As the skin around her neck drew back, Stacey instinctually went limp to make her easier to carry. "I'm going for some food and it would be a good idea if you ate something as well," he announced as Crystal took her cue and let go of her troubled friend and the little quadruped dangled upwards till she was just in front of the larger dragonite's face. A cold intimidating gaze looked back at her as her mighty owner added, "Besides, we have to talk."