The darkness in the sewer tunnel was total.
It was a cold, wet, tactile thing that pressed against Zane's skin.
The only sound was the rush of filthy water around his ankles and the faint, distant drip... drip... drip... from a c***k in the ceiling.
Then, Zane screamed.
The withdrawal was instant and absolute.
The battery in his gut wasn't just empty, it was now a collapsing void, a black hole sucking his own life force into it.
It was a thousand times worse than the agony in the Sump-Pit. This wasn't a shredder; this was an un-making.
His muscles seized in a full-body convulsion so violent he slammed his head back against the slimy brick wall.
"GAAAAH! f**k! f**k!"
His shout was swallowed by the rushing water.
He wasn't Zane. He was a bundle of screaming nerves, dying in a sewer
