It was now three weeks, and Brooklyn was still a prisoner. Still feeling lightly queasy after being force fed his food a few days ago by Thailog, who saw that day he didn't eat his usual meals that returned, only drinking water, as Brooklyn closed his eyes, a small vision replaying in his head of that terrible day he had to be force fed.

...

"Eat, Plaything. You won't get food like this very often," snarled Thailog, shaking Brooklyn's arm. Brooklyn shook his head, eyes filling with pain-filled tears.

"N-no. I'm not hungry, and I did say I didn't want to eat your food in the first place!" he mumbled in a defiant tone. Thailog's eyes glowed a terrible red, growling dangerously.

"Then I'll have to make you," he had snarled viciously, guards taking Brooklyn harshly into another room, where another metal table was, along with the doctor waiting with a tube and a can of some type of food.

Brooklyn gave out terrified cries of fear, seeing the tube, squirming in their grasp, Thailog getting a rush of pleasure seeing him in fear as usual.

They strapped him down, forcing his mouth open, and the doctor planted the tube into his stomach. Brooklyn couldn't explain how terrified he was at the idea of being force fed, and seeing Thailog smiling like that sent more shivers up his spine.

Thailog nodded to the doctor to proceed, and Brooklyn grunted, struggling to breathe from his mouth now being strapped to the tube, feeling the food being put into his stomach, making it feel nauseous from the feeling until his stomach felt full. Brooklyn kept squirming during the whole thing, Thailog gripping his arm with his sharp talons.

"So now, Plaything, will you eat what I give you, that way you don't have to do this all over again?" he had purred sickeningly. Brooklyn whimpered, nodding reluctantly after they took the tube out of him, those red eyes flashing in his eyes, terrifying Brooklyn's mind.

...

Brooklyn's eyes opened again in panic, his heart thumping in his throat reliving that memory strongly, but only seeing himself 'safe' in his cell, causing him to breathe slowly and calm down. Earlier, he had managed to down one small sandwich they left him.

But he wondered: it had been so long. What was taking his family so long to save him?

Brooklyn tried faintly to imagine life without seeing his rookery brothers' friendly faces ever again, only waking up to see Thailog, and enduring horrible nightmares for the rest of his days.

This made Brooklyn cry even more, covering his eyes when Thailog returned.

"Come, Plaything, I wish to do more with you," he purred, grasping Brooklyn's shoulder tightly. The only answer he got were small sobs of anxiety, causing him to hiss, pressing the remote, and the shackle squeezed Brooklyn, making the red one yelp in fear and pain, wrapping his hand around his stomach as Thailog made him stand.

"When I say come, you come," Thailog demanded roughly, shaking him. Brooklyn trembled, nodding, as Thailog pushed him out.

He was brought to another maze, pushed inside again. Brooklyn looked around for the men to show up, running through the maze. He hated these maze tests.

A man suddenly pounced on him. Brooklyn growled, throwing the guy off of him roughly, continuing on through the maze, dodging more of them along the way.

A second muscled man cornered Brooklyn, who raised his wings, growling at him.

"Let's play," sneered the man, making Brooklyn's eyes glow, and hiss sharply. They charged one another, wrestling and punching.

Brooklyn got carried away again in hurting the man like when he tried escaping, scratching his shoulder and chest deeply, throwing him as well. An alarm beeped from his action, the maze walls disappearing, making him confused and scared.

The door opened, as the dark gargoyle came in, looking angry. Brooklyn backed away in fear, as Thailog took his casted arm harshly.

"I still can't have my plaything hurt my men," he growled, dragging Brooklyn back to his room, thrusting him to the ground again violently.

"Please, please! Don't break my other arm!" Brooklyn gasped in fear, the shackle pressing hard on his belly. Thailog grasped his throat, eyeing his wing with sudden interest.

"Bet you feel a lot of fighting spirit with those precious little wings, don't you? Well, we'll just have to fix that..." Thailog threatened icily, grabbing his right wing tight, his taloned hands poking through the wing flaps.

Brooklyn screamed, as Thailog twisted his wing bones, breaking it like his arm, rendering it useless, then pushing his victim down, who began sobbing, staring back up in fear from what he did. This was worse than the arm breaking. Now Brooklyn felt great fear of never being able to glide again.

Thailog moved his face in close. "That probably did something, didn't it? My doctor will put your wing in a splint, but you shall never glide for a long time if you do escape," he purred sickeningly, making Brooklyn look away from him, crying piteously.

....

Later, the doctor diagnosed Brooklyn's wing bones while Brook lay on his stomach on a gurney, shaking like a leaf about this operation with guards holding his arms tight. The doctor said he can use a large tight bandage to support the bones and sew the ripped flap. He pulled out the needed tools, and Brooklyn sweated at the sight of the tools needed for his splint.

He shut his eyes, grimacing, as the doctor did his work, not wanting to watch it, as those bandages were wrapped around his wing bones, feeling them snapping into place. He cried out in pain as they were mended.

It took a whole two hours, but the doctor managed to do his work, making sure it was well supported, having to fold it to be able to put the bandage on. Brooklyn had yelled when he folded it, for it felt like fire was burning his wing.

Finally, after the doctor sewed the rips in the flaps (which hurt, too), he was done. But the guards didn't take Brooklyn back yet, for the doctor had one more request from Thailog to do an ultrasound on Brooklyn, but made sure not to tell him.

Brooklyn looked with his fuzzy vision, wondering why they weren't taking him back to his room to rest, seeing the doctor pulling out something in a jar, scooping some gel stuff out.

They rolled him onto his back, exposing the stomach, which Thailog took the shackle off briefly again, giving the doctor enough room to spread the gel onto Brooklyn's belly.

Brooklyn gave a tiny shudder and a gasp, because it was cold and his belly felt painful, wishing he'd quit seeing at his insides without his permission. The doctor pulled out a wand, and pressed it into his stomach, moving it along his belly, looking occasionally at the screen.

All in all, the insides looked decent, but with some bruised parts here and there. Brooklyn shifted weakly from the added pressure of the wand pressing into his gel-covered belly, angry that the doctor didn't tell him they were gonna scan his belly again, still not recovered from being a part of the previous body scan.

He took longer than normal, for the doc was rather obsessed with what was inside Brooklyn.

The doctor cleared off the gel afterward, the guards taking Brooklyn off the table, bringing him back to his room again, throwing Brooklyn back inside.

Brooklyn mumbled disorientedly from his experience, legs feeling like lead, his wing on fire from being operated on.

Thailog entered, a cruel smirk on his face when he saw Brooklyn's bandaged and sewed up wing. He knelt down, touching it, making his plaything whimper in pain and fear, jerking back.

"Oh, that does hurt, doesn't it? This should now give me better control over your every move," he purred in a seductive tone. This made Brook feel even more terrified than ever, eyes wide-eyed animalistically at Thailog, as the dark gargoyle stroked his shoulder.

"S-st-uh!" mumbled Brooklyn sickly. But Thailog just gave out another soft pleasured growl, eyes shining a bright glowing red, enjoying this very much.

It was hard for Brooklyn to move away from Thailog again, unable to raise his voice to defend himself after weeks of mistreatment. Even with the small helpings of food, his form grew skinnier, and his stomach shrank. He lived in constant fear every day, which drained his health.

Thailog stroked his cheek again. "Go ahead and rest if you can, little plaything," he sneered, leaving Brooklyn alone in his cold cell to cower in misery.