Chapitre 23: Chapter XXII: Servitude
What happened after that day was a whirlwind of events that Gino could barely keep track of. As soon as his hands were severed, he saw Flokk grab both them along with the fingers that had been removed, only to pack them away for storage.
The next few hours revolved around stabilising him and preventing further blood loss until they finally fitted him with bionic implants to replace what he had lost during the torture session. A session that, by the way, was far from over; those implants, rather than being comfortable or alleviating the burden of having no biological hands, inflicted excruciating, constant pain on Gino. He could only mutter curses under his breath while glaring with eyes full of resentment at everyone involved in the process.
Though exhausted and resigned, his mind burned into memory the faces of all those who had assigned him such a cruel fate. From Flokk and the guards to the brute who fitted the implants.
During the operation, there was no anaesthesia, no care beyond preventing Gino from going into hypovolemic shock. They made sure he experienced ongoing pain in his nerves—a daily reminder of what would happen if he dared to defy the Guild again, and an emotional burden that constantly reminded him of his own failure and weakness.
They had cut off the hands with which he had caressed freedom, replacing them with shackles of technological scrap that only served to imprison him further, diluting his senses every second in terrible agony.
'I have to channel all this pain, frustration, and helplessness into planning my escape. I can't give up just because I lost one battle,' Gino repeated to himself like a mantra, trying to focus his mind on something productive to avoid self-loathing.
But the task seemed monumental. Though Beatrix had been freed and Flokk appeared to be honouring his end of the deal, Gino was subjected to forced labour for most of the following days, moving and working with heavy machinery in the vast warehouses connected by tunnels on level 03. He received no pay, no breaks, and no food or water.
In the afternoons and nearing evening, Gino was forced to attend 'courses' where he was indoctrinated and prepared to fulfil the future tasks the Guild expected of him.
For hours on end, he was compelled to watch endless instructional videos on how to be a 'useful asset' to the Guild.
His workdays ended with little rest, as sleep was scarce for Gino, who found no respite even during those hours. The mental, physical, and emotional toll was evident on his body. Over time, perhaps his mind would grow accustomed to the constant pain inflicted by the implants, and his body would adapt and increase its pain threshold. But until then, all Gino could do was suffer in silence and try to focus on the hope that was [The Forge System].
The only positive aspect of everything that had happened was a change in the general display of the system. A small detail that had gone unnoticed amid his daily ordeal allowed him to distract his mind.
--------[•The Forge System•]----------
> ◇~[Template: Warhammer 40,000]~◇<
>•Faction: < Imperium Of Mankind> "Locked"<
> •User stats: <Gino Domenico Salerni — 19 — Terran Human, Pi "Contained"- Psychic mutant (Homo Sapiens Sapiens)> <Title: The Forge Lord> <Level: 1 — 0/100 XP>
> •Map: <Regional Map> <Galactic Map> |<
> •Inventory: <Tap to enter> | <
>•{Reputation} <2 — Rat Thief> • {Renown} <Who?>|<
> •Fleet size: <0> | <
[• DANGER! Potentially lethal psychic activity detected. Containment and prevention protocols have been activated to prevent any explosion. Please seek an Immaterium guide immediately.]
______________
His psychic abilities seemed to have awakened, albeit minimally. Although Gino didn't know what Pi meant, he understood he was far from being Alpha Plus or any of the other ranks he had heard about back on Earth that certain characters in Warhammer possessed. But this was, in itself, an advance.
'I have no idea what the hell an Immaterium guide is... I just hope I learn quickly how to harness the Warp to escape all of this...' Aware that learning on his own wouldn't be easy, especially in his current condition where meditation was nearly impossible due to his bionic implant, Gino still held onto the hope—however fleeting and small—that during his assignments and tasks, he might find openings and opportunities to exploit and grow his nascent psychic power.
However, until that moment, Gino had no window of respite. If he failed to comply meticulously with his assignments and tasks, Brund would alert the executioners and torturers dedicated solely to tormenting slaves, and they would inflict physical torture on Beatrix.
Thus, Gino found himself with only six hours to himself, which were meant for sleep. But unable to sleep for more than thirty minutes at a time, he focused on trying to use that time to his advantage, albeit without success.
The toll of this was evident in his physical appearance and mental faculties. The lack of sleep, coupled with the extreme stress he was under, transformed him from the upright, free-spirited figure he once was into a shadow of his former self. Despite his physique, Gino now seemed to blend in with his environment. His slumped shoulders and downcast gaze, combined with dark circles under his eyes, gave him a ruined appearance.
His body occasionally twitched involuntarily due to physiological reactions to the pain stimuli received from his nervous receptors, forcing Gino to hunch over and try to appear normal—an act and reflection devoid of meaning in light of his circumstances, yet an understandable human behavior.
His mind now longed for what he had once taken for granted not so long ago. There were no longer escapes to the Bar O'Shalle, no midday chats with Beatrix, nor the warmth of her presence to fall asleep beside after both of them had drunk away their daily woes.
The suffering, torture, doubt, anguish, stress, worry, and a myriad of emotions that seemed to bubble up from Gino's wounded and nearly fragmented mind found no relief. For the past six days, his thoughts and subconscious had been consumed by a cycle of resentment and rage, feeding off everything he saw and experienced as a victim.
Dark feelings began to take root deep within his psyche—those that would be delicate catalysts in any other living being, tormenting them with horrors of the Immaterium. These emotions would become a beacon in the darkness, drawing in the multitude of nightmares lurking in the shadows.
But due to Gino's own nature, he didn't even have the comfort of the whispers of the Warp. It was just him, his mind, and his emotions in an explosive mix that only increased in temperature, promising an eventual explosion of extreme proportions.
Meanwhile, Gino merely awaited the moment. Working in a dark assembly shed, his intimidating figure seemed to blend seamlessly with the oppressive, depressing, and dark atmosphere that loomed over the dozens of other men and women sharing the same sinister fate as him.
Slaves of the Guild, resigned souls without a future in Vandalor.
...
I had no more tears.
Nearly two weeks had passed since I witnessed something I never wanted or wished to see: the destruction of the only person who had begun to matter to me and brighten my days, piece by piece.
When they covered my head and forcibly took me to that room, I initially feared for my life, wondering again and again if the Guild had finally grown tired of my defiance. Of my attempts to maintain a semblance of freedom in my life.
However, my concerns soon faded into the background when I saw those figures sit behind the glass panel in front of me. My questions and pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears, as I could hear everything they said while my cries and protests went unanswered. When I saw Gino collapse to his knees before them, so lost and filled with questions like me, I finally understood that something worse was happening.
In the days leading up to that moment, I had noticed Gino acting differently—more differently than any ordinary person would. More strangely than the singularity his nature dictated. There were several hours when he seemed to disappear, and even stranger were the nonsensical questions he asked after those brief absences. At first, I thought he might be interested in becoming a merchant. That would make sense, I reasoned, given his desire to learn how to pilot.
In the enigma that Gino presented to me, shrouded in a fog that filled me with questions, every conversation with him revealed more than his apparent innocence. His words and actions made me doubt many things and opened my eyes beyond the veil imposed by my own ignorance. Slowly, I wove my own conclusions about what I thought he was pretending to be.
These notions and assumptions were quickly shattered when I beheld, to my horror, Flokk commencing his bloody and merciless work. I screamed like I never had before, struggling with all my might against the restraints that kept me a spectator in the most exclusive yet cruel and harrowing place imaginable. I heard questions being asked as I finally understood why I was there, why Gino was subjected to such cruelty. But I didn't care.
The only thing that mattered to me was finding a way for both of us to escape the suffocating, merciless grip of the Guild.
When Flokk finished his butchery and revealed my true purpose for being there, I felt utterly shattered inside. I couldn't believe that my only value in Gino's life up to that point would be as a burden and a cross for him to bear in accepting such a heartbreaking fate.
There was no comfort left in my tears. I can't remember what happened to me in the days that followed—just an endless sea of uncontrollable sobs. All I recall are the orders given to me.
"If you don't comply with our assignments, Gino will continue to be tortured. If you think of helping him escape, we'll turn him into a servitor." I knew those words were a threat, a way to keep me in check, to break my spirit and force me to obey.
But what could I do? Should I let the only person who had shown me any kindness be swallowed and destroyed by Vandalor?
I had already lost my family, my home, friends—everything I had ever been. I didn't want to lose someone who made me feel alive again. Someone who made this miserable life of mine worth living.
I no longer had the freedom I once did; now I was forced to work and adhere to a strict schedule. If I wanted to muster the energy to complete the daily shifts assigned to the factories and packaging lines, I had to find sleep that seemed perpetually out of reach.
The nightmares that had faded from my dreams when Gino slept beside me had returned. This time, however, it was him I saw in them. I relived that moment again and again, while the same feeling of powerlessness clung to me. I felt small, weak, unable to free myself from my chains, insignificant in my attempts to shatter the glass that separated us.
Those voices whispering my failures, weaknesses, and insecurities returned once more. They taunted me about being a burden to the only person who mattered to me. They reminded me of my lack of caution when I noticed that Gino wasn't up to anything good.
They spoke of my failure to reach out to him and offer my help. They criticized my inability to defend myself or do anything to prevent being captured by the Guild.
It felt as if those voices knew exactly how to torment me.
And so, I spent those days without tears, without will, without strength, and without knowing what to do. My only hope was to somehow see Gino again, yet that seemed impossible. I no longer lunched in that canteen; my rations were now given to me at my workplace.
I didn't go on missions or tasks around level 03 anymore; I don't think I've even stepped outside the Guild itself. I hadn't seen the light of day again. The passage of time was marked only by the alarms and voices echoing from the vox-speakers.
I was a prisoner in that place. But worse still, I was a prisoner of my own fear.
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SrDevoxero
SrDevoxero Just a month ago, Gino was preparing to meet a tinder date and now the man has no hands and is enslaved. Talk about twist in lives.
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