I was in an interrogation room with Ink; my magic was suppressed, but I didn't care. I had just released Error from prison with the help of Papyrus, Chara, and the kid. I wondered what they were doing at the moment; Paps was probably telling Error how I was actually alive - Paps is the best. I had just revealed my identity to Ink, and he seemed rather angry.

"Dust?" Ink squinted. "I killed you. What are you doing alive?"

"Just thought I'd help out a friend." I chuckled.

"How are you alive?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

"There are no secrets kept from me in my multiverse."

"First off, it isn't your multiverse; we were just unlucky enough to have you here."

"I rule. What exactly were you thinking: that it would be just like when I was the innocent Protector of Alternate Universes?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's not going to be like that this time, because I'm not a protector anymore; I'm a dictator, and I happen to dislike you."

"I can't be liked everywhere I go."

"You don't seem to be grasping this concept; I could tear you apart in public, and nobody would stop me. I would love to do that."

"Then why aren't you? You're supposed to be a dictator, right? Why not strike a little fear in the masses? Or were you afraid they were going to rebel if you terrorized them too much?"

"This is part of why I hate people like you. You're always right. They would begin to use desperate tactics, and there would be an uprising, which is why I won't do that; instead, I think I'll just hide you away, or maybe I could just turn you into a guard. What do you think?"

"I think you're going to have an awfully hard time hiding me away if I start yelling."

"Nobody questions anything anymore; those who do are too afraid to stand up, and I'm perfectly content with allowing them to question me as long as they don't spread it around too much."

"You're pretty brave, aren't you?"

"I'm an immortal with virtually unlimited power, and the only thing standing in my way at the moment is the fact that you released Error." Ink stopped for a moment. "I just got a brilliant idea!"

"You should think less; it's bad for you."

"I can simply use you to get Error back under my control!"

"Bad idea; don't do that."

"What, are you scared of me?"

"Actually anything is scarier than you, but that idea of yours just sounds painful."

"You're right; it does sound painful. I won't use you as bait; instead, I'll keep you here for my own purposes: I've been needing to test a few things concerning codes, and I believe I've found the perfect test subject!"

"I really don't like your thought processes."

"Well, I don't like you, so I guess that makes us even."

Ink stood up from the table smoothly and walked to a door in the back of the room, knocking on it a few times for it to open.

"Y-yes, Sir?" A guard on the outside was obviously frightened of Ink.

"Have the prisoner taken to my quarters." Ink ordered. "Don't go too rough on him; I want to keep that for myself."

"Yes, Sir.."

Ink then left the room, leaving me and the one guard, who I assumed had called an escort.

"So what did you do to annoy him?" The guard asked.

"Just about everything, I guess." I shrugged. "Living, if you wanna get technical."

"H-have you ever seen him angry?"

"A few times. I've seen worse."

"How? I didn't know there was anything worse. Who are you, anyway?"

"My name's Dust."

"Wait, you mean the Dust? From Nightmare's gang? You guys are like, heroes! But wait, weren't you executed?"

"Doesn't matter now. Why are you working for Ink?"

"Oh..when he captures an AU, he picks either the Sans or Papyrus of the AU and takes them here. After that, he manipulates something - I think he called it code - to ensure loyalty..we can do everything how we want, but whenever he gives an order, we have to follow it, or...our brother dies immediately. I love Papyrus, so as much as I don't want to obey Ink, I have to."

"So he can manipulate the code, link it to another being, and make them die if you don't obey him?"

"Yep, that about sums it up. Some thought he was bluffing at first, but..he wasn't. A lot of brothers died that day."

"I'm sorry..that must have been horrible."

"Yeah..it was..after that, we didn't dare to try anything. If you want my advice, do what he tells you; nobody gets hurt that way."

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind."

"I-I should get back to my station now..it was nice meeting you!"

"The same to you."

The guard returned to his spot outside the door quickly, resuming his former stance. He didn't know it, but I had probably gleaned more from that conversation than I did from Ink himself; now I had a basic understanding of how he controlled his little empire: fear, example, and enough power to back every threat he made. A minute later, a few other guards came in and began to escort me to what I believed was Ink's playhouse; I didn't fight them, since I would undoubtedly lose, and I didn't know my way around the building if I did manage to break free. I noted the paths of the hallways as we went in order to have at least some knowledge of the passages; it wasn't enough to do much, but I didn't know how long I would be there, and it might have come in handy at some point. When we reached our destination, I noticed that the room was decorated with a lot of paint; most of it was red - at least I hoped it was paint. Ink was in the corner of the painted room, lying on a bed that matched the other decorations scattered about.

"We brought the prisoner as you requested, Sir." A guard spoke.

"Bring him to me." Ink commanded, sitting up on his bed.

"Yes, Sir."

I was forcefully moved towards Ink, and I put up no struggle - I was still in unfamiliar territory - as I was pushed to the ground, looking up at my enemy.

"This will hurt a lot; hope you weren't expecting roses." Ink laughed. "Hold him tightly."

"Yes, Sir.." The guards didn't want to see more pain; they had probably seen enough. I felt their grip tighten, though.

Ink opened up what looked to be a check screen, but it seemed to be filled with different numbers and letters; I assumed it was code. When he looked at it for a moment, his expression paled.

"Your code...is broken?!" Ink's expression turned to an angry one. "How could you have possibly broken your code?"

I said nothing; Ink seemed to be getting more annoyed by the second.

"Answer me!" Ink demanded. "How did you break your code?"

I continued my silence. 

"This is your last chance to be a good little skeleton and tell me how you broke your code."

I wasn't giving in; my determination wouldn't let me at this point.

"Very well then." Ink unsheathed his paintbrush. "Guards, hold him down nice and hard."

It was easy to sense the guards' fear due to their slight shaking as they gripped me tighter; it was obvious that they had done this before, and they knew what would happen next. Ink began to bombard me with paint, receiving screams of pain, but no confession; my determination wouldn't let me confess to anything, even if I wanted to. It hurt about the same as when Nightmare was installing the magic restorer to my soul, which I could still remember vividly; this didn't save my life, though - only worsened it. When the pain began to subside, Ink had a gleeful expression lighting up his mood; he had obviously enjoyed that little torture session, while I was still in pain, and the guards were feeling sorry for me. I whimpered for a few more minutes as the pain slowly went away, but it didn't go away fully; I expected that. I wasn't crying, of course, but I was certainly going to remember that experience for a long time. When my whimpering came down to a minimum, Ink decided that it was a great time to ask me the question once again.

"Okay, I'll ask you again." Ink smiled. "How did you break your code?"

I said nothing. My determination was being a real pain at the moment.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me; how did you break your code, Dust?"

I spit out some paint, but I didn't confess.

"Right; well, we can do this for as long as you want to. Hold him down again."

The guards were even more shaky at this point, knowing this would most likely be more painful than the last dose of paint; they had to hold me, nonetheless. It certainly was more painful this time, but it still couldn't compare with my death; it was close, though. After this, Ink seemed even more overjoyed at the sight of my pain.

"So how did you break your code?" Ink inquired. "I couldn't quite hear that."

I wouldn't tell him.

"You certainly are stubborn, I'll give you that." Ink thought for a moment. "Oh, I know how to cure stubbornness! You and I are going to have so much fun breaking you!"

I still didn't respond. My determination seemed stronger than ever.

"Guards, you may leave him here with me, and you did a wonderful job at not breaking down this time!"

"Th-thank you, Sir." One of the guards was on the verge of crying; they left quickly.

"It looks like you're going to be staying here for a while, Dust." Ink gave a light grin. "I will break you eventually."

I kept up my streak of silence. 

"And trust me, you will tell me whatever I want to know."

I didn't say anything.

"We can start right now."

Ink began to torture me further, by paint or brush, however he wanted; the pain may have made me scream, but my determination stayed strong. Before long, he had to leave for some kind of work, and I passed out when he left; I didn't even think he locked the door - I couldn't have gained the strength to escape anyway. He continued to torture me for weeks on end, stopping only if I went unconscious or if he was needed somewhere else. I felt my determination slowly dwindling the longer it went on, week by week. The first week was pure pain, the second much the same, the third could have been better, and the fourth couldn't have been worse, but the fifth was worse. The sixth week, my determination felt almost nonexistent, as if I would have broken at any moment, just hanging on by a thread; it reminded me of Error's threads - they were a soft blue, but all I saw was red. Red paint was everywhere, probably mixed with blood - my own - and Ink knew I would break soon; I knew it too, as my determination fizzled out. It would never fully leave, but it would give up for a while if I was pushed hard enough; I was being pushed harder than enough.

On the first day of the seventh week, Ink came in looking happy, as always, in the direction of his prisoner, me. My body was littered with scars that would never go away, and red paint had all but soaked my clothes. I couldn't stand at this point, since my legs were broken, and only one of my arms wasn't fractured; I was certainly past most breaking points - it was obvious. Ink approached me giddily and lifted my shaking skull to look at him.

"Hello, Dust!" Ink looked happy; why was he so happy when I was in so much pain? "Are you ready for another wonderful day?"

"N-no?" I coughed up some paint.

"Ah, that's too bad, because I'm ready!"

Ink began another torture session, which hurt worse than the last one, by tradition, and used a lot of paint. My determination by this point was ready to go into hiding, and I didn't blame it; I would have loved to go into hiding. Ink never seemed to get tired of torture, which was bad for me, because I was sick of it; I was actually physically sick of it - I believed I had become severely allergic to paint, making the torture even worse. I had also dropped red as one of my favorite colors, and if I never saw that color again, it would have been too early. Halfway through the session, Ink had successfully broken my other arm and put another crack in my skull, both of which hurt immensely. I felt lightheaded, and I felt that I was either going to pass out or have an allergic reaction. Neither of those happened; something worse happened when Ink hit me with his brush for the last time.

I broke.

~~~chapter end woot~~~

Dust bean hurt noooo

Why is this book becoming depressing smh

Thanks for reading my torturous writing!

Bye!