A pitch-black mass of darkness appeared in Luke's sight before he knew it.
No memory of how he had gotten here, no knowledge of how to get out.
The only constant here is darkness—total darkness that seems to expand constantly, engulfing all that was and wasn't like the darkness itself.
While lying there inside that ceaseless mass, Luke's body seems to distort, warp, becoming something else… something closer to the substance he dwells within.
But it's under that crushing mass that something different seems to come alive, or more accurately, re-emerge.
A light, pristine, multicoloured light that shines with all the colours under the sun, dwelling within Luke like a second heart.
Despite its beauty, its state remains shattered, its size so small that it appears pathetic beneath that constant darkness.
It's that very pressure that forces the light to take form.
To condense and begin its growth back to its former glory.
…
..
.
"—ughhhh."
A fatigued voice sounds out with clear exhaustion, echoing across a messy, broken room, barren of all its former furniture.
…besides one lonely chair.
The owner of the voice, Luke, sits there quietly, trying to muster the strength to open his eyes. Yet his vision remains dark, a horrible ringing sounds in his ears, and he remains as broken and messy as the room itself.
"Seems you're awake?"
A new voice. This one grating to Luke's ears, like the sound of cutlery being dragged across plates.
With his eyes still closed, Luke strains his hearing, using this sense in place of his eyesight.
The footsteps create a ripple in his mind, mapping out the small space they seem to find themselves in while creating a sense of déjà vu within the back of his mind, as if he's been here before.
"You might be thinking… 'what's going on! Where am I? Just oh why can't I use my eyes?!' That, my friend, is because you are blindfolded! Such a mystery solved in seconds—how amazing I am, right?"
The man, quirky and arrogant, intentionally antagonises him with every syllable that comes out of his mouth.
But his voice is accompanied by a rush of jumbled memories surging to the forefront of his mind, explaining how and why he had gotten here.
And his first instinct was to lash out in anger.
To disappear from these mundane bindings and plunge his sword into the bastard's neck.
But he knew it was never that easy. Kill him and another would take his place with a more pressing order to get rid of him.
Still, this couldn't be allowed to slide.
The footsteps draw closer, nearing enough to stand near him.
The sound and vibrations map the surroundings even more clearly, revealing the full layout of the room… and the people guarding it.
Two giants stand near the door. One, a monster with nothing but muscle, looks like he eats steroids for breakfast. The other, taller and more lanky, is made up of sticks and bones.
Beyond the two, there are more than three others. Though Luke doesn't get a chance for a better look as the footsteps reach him.
"..no? No reaction, no begging? Just sitting there like you're already a corpse. I suppose that's fair. As dumb as you are, I guess even an animal would have enough intelligence to understand when its odds are grim."
The voice draws even closer, enough to smell that rotten fish and cheap booze on his breath.
Sam does nothing though, creating tension within Luke.
A tension that comes undone when the scruffy man sighs softly and pats Luke twice on the shoulder.
Pat.
Pat.
"Sorry, bro. You're fucked. The boss is on the way, but since you're being boring, I'm just going to get a bit more entertainment in the other room. Bye!"
And as he says, he walks away, opening the door to leave.
But just before he exits fully through the door, he pokes his head in and addresses everyone else in the room.
"Oh, yeah. Have your fun, lads and ladettes. No idea if he'll survive long after this anyway… just don't kill him."
SLAM.
A silence descends into the room with the noise that signals his departure.
A silence not at all comforting or reassuring, and a plethora of chuckles and laughs come from the corners of the small room.
"…"
Once again, the shuffle of footsteps grows closer. This pair is different from the light, almost sticky sound of Sam's scheming steps. Instead, these are heavy, forceful, and full of a sound that screams 'brute force'.
THUD.
A loud smack echoes throughout the room as a large hand comes into contact with Luke's shoulder with force.
The man grins in dark amusement, but seeing Luke's reaction—or lack thereof—his grin turns upside down into a frown.
"Is he actually dead? That couldn't have killed him, could it?"
The big man turns around confusedly, presumably looking to his companions for advice.
"No, you stupid oaf!"
"Then why isn't he reacting?!"
One of the less clear presences that stands circling the outside of the room finally puts a voice to a silhouette. It, yes it, with a voice that sounds somewhere between a man and a woman, argues with the bigger guy.
She… it… shim… yeah, shim, the new person too walks up to Luke with a more intimidating gait. Or it would be if this wasn't the third time this has happened in minutes.
Luke almost scoffs sarcastically, ready to be done with all of these mongrels.
That is… until something pointed and sharp presses roughly into his neck, drawing out that horrible feeling of a mixture of hot and cold flowing out of him in waves.
The blade that cuts into his neck is shallow and a mere flesh wound compared to the amount he bled in Dunwall, but this body, his true self, doesn't have the near-undying nature of his other vessel.
This one is unmistakably mortal.
"You have quite a lot of enemies among our gang, don't you, Luke?"
The blade digs deeper, turning the slow flow of blood into a bigger gush that is starting to worry him.
"Which is funny, y'know? Considering the past relationship between the boss and your prick of a brother… I would have thought he would have let it go!"
The knife stops digging, its wielder seemingly understanding that Luke losing even more blood would end in his death. Instead, the thug entertains himself by slashing at his bare chest and back, digging just as deep as the wound on his neck.
"!..!"
But even through that pain, nothing changes Luke's expression. That is… until the name of his late brother is brought up, creating a tide of complicated emotions surging within him, the strongest being anger and defensiveness at the slight against his family.
And like a shark to blood, the butcher notices as easily as night follows day.