I don't get facts wrong! It's everything else I screw up.

He didn't know where he was.

That was the first realization Flynn had when he woke up. Granted, it wasn't exactly the first time that he came to in an unknown place with no recollection how he got there but this time was different. This time he had no recollection of where he had been before. No memory of a mission, of a struggle, nothing that would help him connect the dots.

With a groan he sat up and held his head. Where was he? How did he get here? What happened? He searched his memory and when nothing came to him, a mild panic set in because he always remembered everything. "Okay. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for all this," he muttered, trying to both calm himself and gather his thoughts. Yes, there was an explanation somewhere. He just had to find it.

He sat up and squinted into the penumbra, trying to get an idea of his whereabouts. It was hard to see and for some reason the ground seemed to be shifting underneath. Deep, low creaking sounds filled the air, like something big and heavy moving around, followed by a dull slushing. When Flynn touched the nearest wall it felt moist but rapping his knuckles against it told him that it was wood – massive and sturdy, but wood.

Further up ahead he could see light coming in from the ceiling but it fell on the ground weirdly, evenly split into tiny rectangles. He licked his lips, pointing to the pattern. "Alright. There's probably bars up there. So we got a moving, wooden room, a barred hatch on the ceiling and that is definitely the ocean out there. Which means this is..." He put his hand down, looking around. "... a ship?"

It made no sense. How on Earth had he ended up on a ship? His body felt light and tingly, like it was charged with static electricity and when he put his hand on his head he could feel his damp hair sticking up wildly. Why couldn't he remember? His head didn't hurt and he didn't feel nauseous so he hadn't been knocked unconscious.

"Hello?" Trying to shake off the dizziness he stumbled deeper into the ship's belly, trying to see. For some reason he kept his voice hushed, just barely above a whisper. "Is anybody there?"

[The brutal hit sends him straight down and Flynn wonders if there is a word for an open-hand slap that makes you pirouette on the spot before you crash to the ground. 'Slap' really seems so linguistically inefficient to convey the impact that cracks his skin, making him taste blood in his mouth again. Apparently the Librarian still hasn't learned his lesson, someone above him says in a voice that makes his blood run cold.

It's been a horrid couple of days, ever since the man called Darren Rathmore and his goons got their hands on him so he'd help them uncover Genghis Khan's tomb and the riches therein. Flynn has been in tight spots before but this is different; where Wilde and his lackeys had retained a certain suaveness to their methods, Rathmore was physical and cruel; and Flynn's various attempts to escape or sabotage the artifacts had been met with severe punishment. Now, in the middle of the Mongolian forest, he had tried yet again to spring a defense mechanism, rendering two of Rathmore's men incapacitated.

But two wasn't nearly enough.

When his latest plan fails, Flynn can feel the last bit of hope drain away. He's been dragged through this wasteland on a bare minimum of food and water and he's exhausted, physically and mentally. Everything hurts; he's never been in so much pain before, not even in his final battle with Wilde and he is dangerously close to a breaking point. Part of him just wants Rathmore to get it over with, wants it all to stop. The other part is terrified of exactly that, of more pain, more punishment.

A boot roughly connects with Flynn's side and his face, sending him on his back before it settles on his chest as he sputters, gasping for air.]

I can open it! [Somehow he manages to form the words. His voice comes out hoarse and spent from too much screaming; the boot is making it hard to breathe.] Y-you still need me!

[The boot vanishes and Flynn almost cries in relief, until he is roughly pulled back onto his feet, fingers digging into his hair, yanking his head back.] No, I can open it right now, please!