Disputed Land Chronicles: Chaos

This post is part of the series Disputed Land Chronicles

Other posts in this series:

  1. Disputed Land Chronicles: Bartertown
  2. Disputed Land Chronicles: The Underworld
  3. Disputed Land Chronicles: Chaos (Current)

The bindings cut into his wrists and ankles, but did not give. Veins protruded from his neck and forehead as he strained against his captivity. Grimy clawed paws grasped his arm, another force his jaw open, a rag quickly replacing the curses of agony.

Shut up you weakling! Came the voice.

An agitated slur of words was all that came out of his mouth through the gag. The pulsating mechanism on the back of the rat began to vibrate at a higher rate, making a louder and louder ticking noise the faster it went. He’d gotten used to that noise, he knew was was coming next. He struggled all the more.

Shhh, lay still fool. You can’t fight them forever, relax.

The needle slid into his arm, the ticking increased as the green juice pumped into his blood. The struggling subsided and a twitchy calmness came over him.

See. Much…

“Better?”, smirked Cane as he removed the gag and the rat withdrew the needle from his arm.

“Die.” was all he said.

“Perhaps someday”, replied Cane. “But for not, lets talk about your upcoming game.”

“I won’t do it,” he protested. Yes you will came the voice.

Cane reached out with a backhand that landed square on his jaw, toppling the chair he sat in to the side. His head smacked the stone floor, blood started to pour from the gash on the side of his head. Cane stepped closer and stooped over him, spittle dripping down from his open mouth, mixing with the blood and sweat on the floor.

“Damned if you won’t,” growned Cane. “I own you. You’re very life is mine. If I say you are going to throw this game, you’re going to march your sniveling ass out there and lose that match!”

“No” he said.

The boot that landed square in his teeth wasn’t what hurt the most, it was that Cane left it there, applying pressure as he leaned forward.

“You will throw this game,” said Cane more calmly than before “I would hate to have more of your precious greenskins find an early retirement, not to mention…your own life.”

Cane removed his boot, one of the spikes caught a tooth and took it with it on the way out. He spit blood across the floor, but said nothing.

Cane nodded and turned to leave, “I’m glad we have an understanding.”

Leaving the door open behind him, Cane exited after the other rats.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

It’s just one game.

“Shut up” he said.

Oh come on. One game, nobody will suspect anything.

“He’s my friend” he said to himself. Yet it was himself that answered.

Friend? Really? Where is your friend now? You only have me, and frankly I would do better without you!

He said nothing, just laid there…bleeding.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Asked the Heatsink.

“He’ll do it,” said Cane “His love for those foul orcs is sickening.”

The rat licked the needle clean and replaced it on the side of the apparatus he carried on his back while grimacing at the words he had just heard.

“Still we need an insurance policy,” said Cane. “Send word to your contact in New Orcland; tell him to find the goblins.”

The rat nodded and skirted away down the hall.

Cane sat down and put his feet up on a stool, the blood was almost dry on the tip of his boot. He looked at it, admiring it like one would admire a painting. His left hand rested on the table next to him, his fingers tapped on a piece of paper stamped with the Goblin Gambling logo in the upper right corner. The ticket read:

$1,500,000 Straight Bet
BET: W&F to win
PAYOUT: $5,700,000


Continue reading this series:

Start a Conversation