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Too bad

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Ladon utters a strained groan as the back of his head slams against the metal wall, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

A sharp pain follows; it radiates from the back of his skull, down his neck before it settles like a throbbing sensation behind the left eye.

”What are you doing!?” the high pitch of his voice reveals that he is in fact terrified.

The large satedan, the one who hates his guts, stands before him snarling down into his face. Ladon turns his head to look for the guard who accompinied him to the privy, but he is no where to be seen.

The hallway is empty.

A strong hand closes around his throat and Ladon makes a startled gasp. He tries to wriggle free, but finds himself pushed up against the wall, held firmly in place by the giant’s merciless iron grip.

”Ronan, right?” he is finally able to croak.

”Close enough” the Satedan growls back. The man half sneers half smiles down into his face, white teeth glimmering in the hallway’s fluresant lights. Ladon can’t tell whether he is enjoying himself or getting ready to bite his face off - or both.

”Let me go” he narrows his eyes and his lips turns into a thin line ”How dare yo…”.

The increasing pressure on his gorge cuts his sentence in half.

”I know, you’re up to something. You hurt any of my friends…I’m gonna snap your neck”.

Ladon’s fingers are seeking out the hands threatening to crush the life out of him, pathetically clawing at them, trying desperately to wrench them free and get away.

”Please” he gasps, ”I ca-can’t… what would Dr….Weir…”.

Amber eyes are burning a hole through him as he makes his humiliating plea.

”Nobody down here but you and me. She can’t help you even if she wanted to, which she won't by the way… Weir doesn’t like you either”.

Ladon opens his mouth to return the insult, but only a strangled "Grghh” comes out. Little black dots are starting to swirl before his eyes from the lack of oxygen to his brain and his world seems to be spinning out of control.

Something gropes at his crotch, then closes around his privates like a warm, tight glove. Ladon looks down only to find that the satedan is fondling him with his free hand. What the FUCK?! He wants to scream into the man’s face, but his narrowed windpipe prevents any sound exept a gurgle.

The satedan smiles wider.

To the horrid sound of his own weezing, Ladon’s eyes flutters closed.

A second later, just when he thinks his time is up, that he’s about to die here in an abandoned hallway in Atlantis, strangled by a man whose name he barely remembers, the grip around his necks loosens and he falls like a heap of wet ashes onto the floor, cluthing his hands around his battered throat.

“Too bad you’re such an asshole…”. He hears a deep growling voice above him say “we could have had fun”.