Problems of a Dead World

Chapter 5: Negotiations

As the Earl and the two guards reached the end of the now distorting hallway, they veered left, and into a small room. Earl grimaced as he examined the room. It was entirely cement, with disgusting stains painting the walls. A single light hung above a small wooden chair, both in the middle of the room. The light cast a menacing glow on the Colonel's evil smile as Earl and the two guards entered. One of the guards pulled the large steel door shut, creating a sharp slam that put a further damper on Earl's nerves.

After a moment of contemplating his next move, the Colonel extended his arm and pointed in the direction of the chair. Almost immediately, the two soldiers shoved Earl forwards, causing him to land harshly on the chair. He groaned as a seething pain entered his now bruised midsection, as the seat of the chair had dug into his ribs. One of the guards scowled and scraped him off of the ground roughly, and shoved him into the seat of the chair.

"How's your buddy Macintosh holdin' up?" Jackson asked as he walked closer to the chair, the sinister smile on his face still shining brightly.

Earl gritted his teeth once more and began twitching as the anger continued growing inside of him. He gave no response.

Colonel Jackson waited a moment for Earl's response, but chuckled a few moments later after he received nothing.

"Stubborn prick that one. Took us a bit of... persuasion just to get his name." Jackson continued with a grim chuckle.

The Colonel chuckled once more and motioned to one of his soldiers, who nodded and reached into one of the various pouches attached to his uniform. Seconds later, he pulled out a thick roll of duct tape and threw it to the Colonel.

"Might as well just, strap you in here, don't want'chu gettin' away now, do we?" The Colonel said, unrolling a large amount of the shining silver tape with one, brisk pull.

Before Earl could react, Jackson began rolling the extended tape around his right arm, pinning his limb to the chipped wooden arm on the chair. Colonel Jackson continued, ripping the tape from the rest of the roll and moving to the opposite arm.

He did the same thing with Earl's other arm, pinning practically his entire torso. The Colonel gave a small whistle and tossed the roll to one of the other guards, who caught it and knelt down to begin securing Earl's legs.

After he had been successfully subdued, Jackson walked in front of him, blocking out the light and turning the Colonel into a menacing silhouette. Without any form of warning, The Colonel cocked his arm back and threw a harsh fist into Earl's face, causing the trapped human's head to fly sideways as a sickening crack echoed throughout the cement walls of the enclosed room.

"Heh, you have NO Idea how long I've been wanting to do that!" The Colonel said with a taunting laugh.

Earl simply shivered as the sharp pain entered his face, and turned his head back to face the attacker. A slow trickle of blood began to fall from Earl's nose as the Colonel's punch began to seep in, staining his already tattered shirt.

"Now. I know you're not going to willingly tell us about that flash, so how 'bout you tell me how many punches it's gonna take to get it out of you, and I'll deliver." The Colonel said, his wicked smile still holding strong.

Earl shook his head and struggled in the seat, trying to find any way he could escape the chair he was unwillingly attached to. It was no avail, duct tape was the strongest element known to mankind.

"I'm... I'm not telling... you... shit." Earl said, his breathing slightly off as he winced in pain.

The Colonel sighed and cocked his arm back for another punch, this attack colliding with his midsection. Earl's eyes went wide as a gust of air escaped his mouth, tossing the blood that had fallen from his nose across the room. He groaned in pain and shifted awkwardly in his seat, holding back tears.

"Two. Remember that private. You're keeping score." The Colonel said, pointing in the direction of one of his soldiers.

The guard gave a salute and repeated the number back to him.

Jackson knelled down slightly until he was at eye level with the bleeding man, and smiled even wider than before.

"Your buddy Mac made it through 97 before we eventually gave up. But I'm willing to go the extra mile for you." He said, madness ringing in his voice like a blaring church-bell.

* * *

"162 sir!" The private said with a salute.

Jackson's eyes went wide as he continued breathing heavily, obviously exhausted by the number of hits he had delivered to Earl. The captive human was sitting in the chair, his face bruised and bloody, and the front of his shirt stained almost entirely with his own blood. By now, Earl had completely given up on holding back tears, and was weeping as blood continued to flow from the various wounds littering his face.

"One... hundred... and sixty-two?!" The colonel asked, still trying to capture his breath.

He looked to Earl, surprised.

"What's it gonna take, son?!" He asked, anger now joining together with the madness in his voice.

Earl shook his head fiercely, causing blood to further stain his shirt and the floor around him.

"I'm not telling you SHIT!" Earl said angrily, his voice accented by the shining red blood seeping out of his mouth.

"And why is that?! Huh?! We're trying to help you son! That's all we-"

"Then why are you b-beating us to shit?!"

"To get it out of you!"

"And... and why do you want to know.... huh?!"

The Colonel scowled and reached into another holster on the leg opposite to the one that held his pistol, and pulled out a combat knife. Earl shivered in further fear as the light glistened off of the shining metal of the knife. The Colonel moved closer and brushed the knife under Earl's chin.

"Flash means power, which we are very low on. If we're going to help-" The Colonel said.

"You're not... helping... anypony...." Earl said, breathing heavily as the cold steel of the knife sent chills down his spine.

"Any... pony?" The Colonel asked quizzically.

"Anybody! You're not helping anybody!" Earl replied, silently scolding himself for using the pony terms he had so frequently used in his new home.

"We're trying to help! But we can't help if we don't have the tools to do so!"

"And what the hell are some flashes of light going to do?!"

Colonel Jackson scowled and pressed the knife under Earl's chin slightly harder. After a moment, he paused and pulled the knife away. A wicked smile broke across his lips.

"I know what will get you to talk, you sniveling little prick..." The Colonel said.

Jackson pointed to one of the soldiers and motioned to the door. The guard quickly obeyed his request and opened the heavy steel door for his commanding officer.

"Private, you stay here and watch over our friend. Me and this man are going to retrieve Ms. Twilight." The Colonel said, wicked happiness standing strong in his voice.

Earl's eyes quickly went wide as the guilty fire started in his stomach again.

"No...." He said weakly.

Colonel Jackson simply snickered and continued out of the room, one of the guards following close behind.

"No! You... You don't touch her!" Earl shouted.

No response.

"You miserable sick fuck! You don't lay a finger on her, do you hear me?!" Earl screamed as loud as his lungs would let him.

The guilty fire in his heart was beginning to turn to rage, adding to his further decreasing sanity. He began frantically struggling in the chair.

"You stay the fuck away from her! You-"

Earl was cut off quickly by the sound of the chair cracking. He looked down, still breathing heavily from his anger and the numbing pain in his face and midsection. The chair was breaking.

Earl slowly looked to the single soldier who was still standing on the other side of the room. An idea quickly entered his mind.

"Hey... bitch." Earl called, blood still falling from his lips.

The guard looked sharply to Earl and scowled.

"The fuck do you want?" The guard asked.

"You're a stupid prick... you know that?" Earl continued.

"Watch what you say to me kid-"

"Kid? Please your a scrawny little spit-fuck compared to me."

"Shut your mouth!"

"How about you make me, skeletor..."

The guard was steaming with anger at this point, and stomped over to the chair. In one swift movement, the soldier cocked his arm back and threw a punch into Earl's midsection, causing the chair to crack further. Earl groaned in pain, but couldn't help but laugh as his plan continued to work.

"T-That's... all you've got?" Earl continued.

The soldier shouted in rage and threw another fist into Earl's midsection, causing the chair to crack even further. One more blow, and something was bound to give way.

"H-how... many friends... did you lose, shitstain?" Earl said still chuckling.

The soldier twitched angrily and threw one final punch into Earl's stomach.

Snap

Before the soldier could react to the harsh snapping of wood, Earl swung his arm up with as much force as he could muster. To Earl's advantage, the wood on the arm of the chair was still attached to his limb, and created a sharp crack against the soldier's skull. The guard stumbled backwards and fell up against the filthy cement wall of the room, before sliding down it breathing heavily. Earl took this chance and toppled the chair over onto it's side in the direction of the fallen soldier. With his free arm, he weakly pulled himself and the chair over to him and reached for the front of the guard's vest, where a knife was sitting soundly in it's holster. After several moments of straining, Earl finally pulled the knife from it's holster and brought it to his other trapped limbs.

After he had successfully freed his arm, the soldier began to stir, causing Earl to stop completely. He was waking up. Earl frantically began work on his legs, freeing them from the chair. Within a matter of seconds, the soldier was slowly creaking his eyes open as Earl finished freeing his final limb. The soldier's eyes almost immediately shot open as he saw the silhouette of Earl standing in front of him. Before the soldier could react, Earl gave one quick thrust of the knife and implanted it in the top of the guard's skull. On contact, the skull buckled, giving way to the knife and allowing the cold steel to drive straight into his brain. The soldier twitched wildly for a moment and fell sideways onto the ground.

Earl examined his attack for a few seconds and leaned down to retrieve the knife from the dead guard's skull, causing a small spray of blood to litter the floor. He also scavenged a small pistol from one of the soldier's many pockets on his vest. It was a small six-shot revolver made of chipped and faded metal. Earl checked the clip, 3 bullets. After a short sigh, he flicked his wrist, and the cartridge made it's way back into the pistol. When the soldier had nothing more to offer, Earl returned to his feet and payed no mind to the crippling pain in his midsection and face, but simply smiled.

Earl had finally lost it.