LET ME BE [o, capture] YOUR SECRET SIN.

Waking from unconsciousness was often a bitter struggle between distinguishing real events from fantasy - nonsense that the brain stirred up while in its dream-like, passed out state. This was a familiar feeling to Lionfur, as the thick-pelted tom had often awoken in a similar fashion in the medicine cat's den after battles. So when his heavy eyelids finally lifted and displayed an unfamiliar clearing dusted with sand and brambles, the warrior quickly realised he had been knocked out by something.

But... what?

Naturally the events were a blur. Lionfur vaguely remembered setting out for a lone hunting mission, which had quickly turned into a hasty sort of patrol as he sensed unfamiliar scents lingering in a glade. And then, when he padded cautiously inside to try and locate this intruder...

Lionfur moaned softly, his whole body limp as his eyes scanned his new surroundings. His gaze immediately fell upon a sleek, black tom who at present had his back to him, though his smooth tail was flicking from side to side with disconcerting interest. He seemed to be organizing whatever items were in front of him.

Most confusing was that some sort of music was tinkling from a box beside him, and he recognised it as something Twoleg mothers would use to make their kits fall asleep. At present he wondered how that would work - the music was really quite... creepy, and it sent uncomfortable prickles down his spine.

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Lionfur lifted his head groggily as the tom looked at him, and another shudder seized his back as he saw those dark, almost lifeless eyes with a single spark of maniacal glee in each centre. This stranger seemed rather skilled with those tools he was working with... he looked as if he was creating some sort of mechanism linked to a sharp hook, similar to one of those rusted fishing hooks he once saw along the RiverClan Sunningrock border.

He realised with a sharp jolt of alarm that he was aiming to drive that thing into his flesh, and so despite his spinning head he leapt back, unsheathing his claws and lashing his immensely furred tail, ready to give this creep a fight if he so desired it.

"Who are you?" he snarled. "And what do you think you're doing with that?"

Despite the situation, Lionfur subconsciously rose his chin in a haughty fashion at the loner-sounding name, though his fur bristled with distrust. He wasn't scared, though. Realistically he could easily take this tom, who, despite his unsettling demeanor (were his eyes ticking in time with that music box?), was admittedly weak in comparison to himself.

"...yes," he answered, carefully. "So, Puppetmaster," (there was some sneering in his tone), "What exactly do you want with me here?"

Lionfur's expression shifted to one of disbelief. "What...? What has that got to do with-"

He noticed this tom lunging forward at him, and although he was still a little disoriented he skillfully moved his head aside, knowing that this cat's mouth wouldn't even graze its target of his cheek.

...that was his target, right?

With an unwarranted howl of agony, the splitting pain just above his paw caught Lionfur completely by surprise and he stumbled forward, staring in horror at the hook that had curled itself right through his flesh, practically worming right through the fur on the other side. Thick blood pooled wetly at the incision and matted his handsome golden fur with a sickening shade of red.

Still reeling from the shock of the first wound, Lionfur couldn't even begin to think about avoiding the attack before another hook dove its way into his foot. He cried out in agony again and stumbled backwards, the sight of those hooks piercing right through his flesh making him nauseous.

"Wh... what are you doing?" he hissed, voice choked with pain, staring absently at the wires that his front paws were now strung to.

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Lionfur's vision pulsed with white light as he was yanked forward, the hooks grating the inside of his flesh with anguishing pain. His front legs sprawled out in front of him, paws seized with the trembling that comes from intense shock - so he couldn't even think of slicing them free... though, those wires seemed extremely strong if they were able to pull him forward like that.

He scrambled desperately with his back legs, though they were met with the same fate as his front paws when he felt the cold metal piercing right through his fur. He could practically feel the tip of the hook grazing at bone, and the very thought was so sickening he almost slipped back out of consciousness, though he forced himself to stay with it for fear of whatever this twisted maniac would do to him if he fell out cold.

Most alarming now was the fact that all of his legs seemed to be connected to this wooden thing the tom held, a self-satisfied grin crawling across his jaws as he did so, and that Lionfur had no control over his body for the time being. Once all of the hooks were in place, he yowled in horror as, his limbs straggling forward at the mercy of those wires, he was tugged to his captor's feet.

"What are you doing?" Lionfur hissed again, though his voice was considerably weaker. Now he understood - or thought he understood, at least - what these wires were for. As long as these hooks were buried through his paws like this, he was completely immobilized, and whenever he tried to stumble forward on his agonised feet he'd just swing right back into place like a bleeding ragdoll.

He watched anxiously as 'the Puppetmaster' called for some other filthy, dust-matted BloodClanners, inviting them to use him as target practice.

"Well, come on," Lionfur snarled, his muzzle shaking. "My teeth still work fine!"

Bump? c: