A dimly lit world swirled around Jearn’s head. The light bobbed tantalizingly close. Water dripped onto something hard and plunked out a steady rhythm.

The shouting returned, “In the name of the G.A.M., recant!” Something stiff and covered in leather struck the left side of his head. Blood, sweat, or both flung away and splattered, interrupting the rhythm of the slow leak.

Head lolling, Jearn mumbled, “I just…I just want to write…” Rasping breath. Quiet cough. ”...how I want to write.” Something else, heavier and bare metal, struck the right side of his head.

A dark whisper came in his ear amid the ringing, “Blasphemer. There is only one way. We are the way. Read. Reply. Conform.”

He’d heard it before. He’d hear it again, if he lived that long. There was really only one thing for him to say.

Drawing what breath he could behind countless broken ribs he hurled along with blood, spit, and a tooth, “Down with the League! Long live individuality!”

BAM !

One down. Only a few to go.