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Wilbur woke up delirious. It was dark and damp, and his head felt so, so heavy. He blinked and tried to look around. It was so dark, and his eyes hadn’t quite adjusted yet. His head lolled on his shoulders. What– Suddenly, a switch was flicked, and a blinding light surrounded him. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to say, ‘Fuck! Turn the lights off.’ But it came out as, “Ffkk trr thh lss ff.” Wait, what? He tried to speak again, “h-lllo? Whhs ppnin?” That. Was odd? His eyes were heavy and sticky, but he forced them open around the bright light. He was in a room with a small, dim light above him. He swore it seemed brighter than it actually was. The room was small, tiny really, with no windows. The walls were concrete, so was the floor and ceiling, and there was no furniture save for a tiny stool in the corner with a camera balanced on it. “U-hh nnn-o..” No, no, this couldn’t be happening. He strained forward, only to find that his arms were bound behind him with an iron rod. The rod was pressed against his back, and his wrists were tied to it. He thrashed against the binds, barely able to move his arms, trying to see if they were weak at all. They weren’t. He was bound to the rod with both rope and metal cuffs, as if just one wasn’t enough.
He let out a muffled sound, and it came out as a whine behind fabric. He was kneeling, he tried to stand, only to pitch forward and land on his face. Great. His feet were bound to the rod, too. He rolled onto his back and was stuck in this god awful position. He screwed his eyes shut, think Wilbur, think! He told himself. He has gone through hostage training when he was training to become a hero. He should know what to do. Why was he blanking so hard? Wait– His blindfold. Where was his– Oh, oh no. Shit, shit, shit. Whoever took him, whoever’s keeping him here– They– They know his identity, they've seen his face. His whole face. Sure, he had trained for this, but it was still fucking terrifying. How long has he been here? Where was his family? Did they even know he was missing? Tears filled his eyes, and he yelled from behind the gag.
His yelling must’ve made some noise because minutes later, he heard a door open. Wilbur tried to sit up, only to remember he couldn’t. He tried to strain his neck to see who walked in, but it was futile. The person tutted at him and grabbed the back of his hair to haul him up, Wilbur shouted out curses from the pain. “My.” The person said, their voice deep with amusement, “You don’t shut up, do you? I mean, it makes sense, for a person whose voice is their power.” Wilbur’s eyes widened as the person stepped into view, Arietem – ‘The Ram.’ Shit. Wilbur, or Siren, has gone head-to-head with Arietem many times. He was formidable. He was strong, powerful and smart, a deadly combination. And he creeped Wilbur the fuck out. Something about those dark red eyes with the rectangular pupils, his sharp teeth, the horns that curled around his ears, and the way he wasn’t afraid to walk around without a disguise. Wilbur shivered. Out of all the people who could’ve kidnapped him, why’d it have to be Arietem?
The only way he was getting out of this alive was if he got lucky and managed to charm-speak him. He tried to open his mouth around the gag to speak, to try and shout out a command, only to get a boot to the stomach. He fell back onto his side with a groan of pain. “Yeah. Wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Wilbur screwed his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing; he wasn’t helping himself by hyperventilating into his gag. The villain crouched down next to him with an almost fond-sounding sigh, and he reached out to brush a hand through his hair. Wilbur winced and turned away. “I can certainly say to you, Siren, I wasn’t expecting quite the pretty face under that blindfold of yours.” Wilbur scowled; he’d spit at him if he could.
Wilbur felt humiliated at the very least, followed by angry and downright terrified. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. Why him? Tears spilt down his face and soaked into his gag, prompting a coo from Arietem. Wilbur wanted to bash his face in. Surely his family noticed he’s missing. Surely the hero commission was already looking for him, right? They’d find him; they had to. Wilbur just had to put up with this until then.
—————
Wilbur counted the days. Or at least, what he thought were the days. He couldn’t exactly tell the time; there was no window and no clock. Nothing to actually tell the time with, so he just guessed, and he guessed it had been around seven days by now. A week of this.
He’d tried using his powers multiple times, only to get kicked down. He got his gag off once, and Arietem slapped him so hard he ran blood. His situation could be worse, Wilbur justified to himself. This could be so much worse. And then on the seventh(?) day, Arietem wheeled a hospital bed into the room and held a syringe full of… something. Wilbur immediately demanded to know what the fuck he thought he was doing, which came out in a mixture of muffled nonsense. Arietem just laughed, “Oh, this little thing?” He crouched in front of Wilbur and grabbed his chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “It’s just a little something to make you sleepy.”
Wilbur immediately thrashed against him, not that it did anything. He tried to scream, knowing no one could hear. “Oh, come on, Siren. Don’t look so scared. I’m just doing something to make sure we get along better.” He pulled out a metal box and opened it, he grabbed a scalpel from it, and Wilbur flinched away. Arietem held him still and pointed the scalpel at his neck, a few inches below his chin. “I'm going to make an incision right here. And I’m going to remove your vocal cords.” Wilbur shook his head, weakly gasping as he tried to move away from the scalpel. No. No.
He let out a strangled sound from behind the gag, “Nnn.. oo.. ‘M srrryy.” He cried and he pleaded. If Arietem was going to surgically remove his vocal cords, how would he ever use his powers again? He supposed that was the point. “Pll.. sse.. Nnn..”
Arietem stepped back and grabbed the syringe. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ve done this before.” Wilbur thrashed, and squirmed, and fought. In the end, it was no use. The syringe was being pressed into a vein in his arm, and Arietem started counting back from ten. Wilbur’s world went black, and he fell limp to the side before he reached five.
Arietem undid his restraints before picking him up and placing him on the bed. He grabbed a few things from the room before wheeling the bed out of the tiny room and into a sterile room down the hallway. He set everything up, laid his tools out, intubated Siren, and set up the camera. It was pointing directly down on Siren, face and neck in full view. Arietem started the camera and made the first incision.
—————
Wilbur woke up slowly. He’s been kept sedated for a long few days so he could heal, not that he knew that. He just woke up, the memories took their time to come back, and he was filled with fear. He was still tied up, but his head was resting against a pillow, he was now on the hospital bed, still in the tiny concrete room. His head killed. He felt bandages over his neck. He was so scared. He was terrified to even try to talk; he was scared of not being able to. He silently cried, tears soaking into the pillow. At least he didn’t have to deal with the gag anymore; he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get the taste of fabric out of his mouth.
Wilbur thought about his family, Gods, he was so worried for them. Were they looking for him? Yeah. Yeah, by now they must be. The Hero Commission probably knew too and were trying to find him. They wouldn’t find their hero, though, they wouldn’t find Siren. He wasn’t Siren, he couldn’t be without his voice. He parted his lips and tried to make a sound, barely a squeak fell past his lips. Pure terror filled him. No. No, please. He tried to speak, and nothing happened. Nothing happened. No. He let out a silent sob. Please no. I have to tell my family I love them.
He cried into the pillow, grieving what he’s lost. He’s lost his voice. He’s lost his powers, lost the right to call himself ‘Siren,’ lost the ability to sing, and he’s lost the ability to tell his family he loves them. He’s going to kill someone. His grief morphed into rage, and it was all caught on a camera in the corner, blinking red. He was going to kill someone.