Getting kidnapped is absolute shit, or at least that was the conclusion Stavi had come to. The inside of the box was pitch-black, stuffy, and he was starting to think he was running out of air. All-in-all it seemed like he had made a huge error somewhere, but what it exactly had been was still eluding him.

Banging on the inside of the chest didn’t seem to have helped yet, but at least it let him use up some of his rage.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMPTHUMPTHUMP!

“Hey let me out of here already! I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with me, but I guarantee you won’t get the results you think it will. I am poor, stringy, and have nonexistent lovemaking skills. Let’s negotiate…”

A box-rattling thump was the only response as someone kicked his wooden cage.

At least I am pissing them off. Whatever they have in mind, it’s likely that dying is probably a good alternative. I don’t think I’ll last long with the red-hot pokers anyways…

He still had his emergency option of using the small amount of energy that still persisted around his core, but that seemed like it might be one-and-done, so he was waiting to use it at the most opportune time. For now, all he could was wait and see what his captors intended for him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, but what must have been nearly an entire night, Stavi was dumped out of the box he was being held in. The light of a torch was almost blinding after the stygian darkness of the box, but he blinked his eyes a few times and his sight returned. Looking around he could see he was surrounded by an assortment of young people, some looking as young as 10 or 12, and others a few older than himself.

The one thing these people all had in common was that they were ragged; they looked as if they might starve at any moment, they stank, and they all had haunted looks in their eyes.

Definitely looks like I have fallen into some dire straits here…

A thudding sound made him look behind, and he saw the hooded merchant dragging the chest back out of the enclosure he was in. Stavi tried to rush the man, but with a lazy swish of his long-fingered hand the villain sent out a bolt of lightning. The air smelled fresh for a second, and then there was the smell of bacon cooking, except it was emanating from Stavi’s frying skin.

“AaaAAagggh,” Stavi screamed uncontrollably.

“Now, now, just be a good little slave. I would hate to damage the merchandise more than I have.” The man’s words held a sinister ring to them, and once again Stavi cursed himself for being a fool, as he struggled to bring his cramping muscles under control.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I would ask how I get myself into these things, but I think we all know; it’s my inability to settle for less than I think I deserve. If I get out of this one, I will have to be more careful in the future.

“Now, you take a rest with your new friends. Thousand Crane City will be here before you know it, and you will all be experiencing your new, exciting futures.” The man didn’t even hide the evil tone in his voice, chortling like some stage-villain as he walked away after chaining the enclosure shut.

As Stavi lay on his back, trying to gather his senses and bring his breathing back to a normal rate, the ragged band started to creep in closer and closer. A wave of panic started to flare up Stavi’s spine, it was hard to get a read on these unfortunates and see what they really intended.

“Hey now, no need for this to get violent, guys! I’m a victim here, like you all…” Stavi raised a hand, trying to maintain a sense of space around himself as the lads loomed large over his prostrate form.

One especially large man leaned over, grinning to reveal a mouth that would make a dentist cry, and hocked a loogie down onto Stavi’s forehead.

“Yer nuthin’ like us, fancy-pants. We been slaves, you just became one. Well, welcome to the club I guess. Time for yer initiation!” The man brought a large fist down directly onto Stavi’s face, and then everything went black again.

As Stavi was fading into unconsciousness, he thought to himself bitterly. I am getting really fucking tired of this…

When he finally returned to consciousness, he wished he hadn’t. His body was now completely naked, bruised, covered in welts, and slathered in shit. He felt just as bad as that sounds, and even more so. Something seemed to snap inside him, and he could feel a rage building. It was just too much.

He let his mind center on the core in his abdomen, and the small amount of vital energy surrounding it, and let his fury bring it to a boil. The next person to try something was gonna get it.

It didn’t take long for his movement to attract some attention, and a few of the slaves moved over towards him menacingly. Stavi noticed that the big one let the others come first, he was clearly no fool. The stupidity of the whole situation brought Stavi to a choking laugh that seemed to make the interlopers slow up a little, but then they kept moving as if they were going to rush him.

A cowardly-looking weasel of a man rushed in and tried to kick him in the jaw. Stavi moved as quickly as he could, wincing from his bruises and lacerations, and caught the foot. The man sneered at him and tried to pull away but Stavi held on, even as he opened his mouth wide and bit down hard on the top of the foot.

There was a metallic taste, one that he was intimately familiar with, and then he could sense raw vitality as it spilled out of the wound along with the blood. It was hard to explain the difference between the two, because they were both separate and inextricably entwined, but at the moment Stavi was pulling on the vital energy as if it was a tug-of-war.

“Ahh, what’s he doin’? What’re you doing? Something feels wrong!” The man could clearly feel that something other than a normal wound was in the offing.

The other men were holding back, as if they weren’t sure if they should run in or not.

Stavi looked up at the man whose foot he was still holding tight to his chest, and intoned a word of power.

“Agni.”

The vital energy, floating free and unattached as the wound continued to pump out blood, responded to that word. Spectacularly.

The energy burst into white flames and quickly the man had become a living torch.

The smell of bacon returned once more.