This is an idea I've had for a while... Hope you guys like it!
Pavel couldn't remember how he got there. He could feel blood dripping from his hairline, making a trail of red from his forehead to his chin. He felt cold, very cold. It felt as if he was back in Russia, but this cold wasn't comforting like home was. This cold seeped into his bones and made him wish he could just curl into a ball and forget everything.
His were closed. That much he knew. He tried to open them, but he couldn't, much to his irritation. His jaw began to ache, and he struggled to find the memory for why.
Pavel heard something across from him. The rustling of clothes, then the clomp of boots on hard ground. He shivered involuntarily, his head hurting with each movement. He groaned and turned his head, feeling somewhat relieved when the pain on his forehead went away slightly.
He heard a gasp. "Kid? You awake?" A voice whispered. It was a man's voice. "Kid?"
Pavel tried to respond. He tried to open his eyes and see what was around him. But he was so cold, and he felt so tired. He gave up trying to wake up, and just let himself fall back into unconsciousness.
~Time Break~
It was another few hours before he finally felt himself waking up. His dreams were of his home. He had been back in Russia, there was snow, and his father was teaching him how to shoot a bow. He was suddenly ten again, and he was happy to be there, listening to everything his father said.
It was a happy dream.
His eyes suddenly fluttered open, taking in the stone roof above his head. It was dark, but not too dark. There was light enough he could make out minor details, but nothing else.
He went to move his arms, but stopped short when he heard the clack of metal chains. His hands went to his wrists, where metal cuffs were welded. The seam was almost invisible, and he felt it, digging his fingernails into the area where the metal met. The chains were attached to the wall beside him, and he sat up, becoming suddenly aware of an ache in his chest, and a pain on his forehead that made him feel dizzy
He looked to all corners of the cell, taking in the rock wall, and set of classic prison bars. He could make out the form of someone laying down in the cell across from him, their breathing deep, they were asleep.
Pavel put a hand to his forehead, feeling the deep gash right at his hairline. It hurt when he touched it, and he moved his hand to his jaw. His skin felt sore and raw. Definitely bruised. He looked down at his knuckles, they were bruised and scabbed over. He'd been in a fight recently.
His confusion began to grow when he looked at his clothes. He was no longer wearing this yellow uniform shirt, he still had his white undershirt on, but the golden material was nowhere to be seen. He wished for the long sleeves, it was still very cold.
He moved his arms the wrong way, and the chains made a loud metallic clang. Across the way, the man sleeping suddenly sat up, Pavel couldn't make out his facial features, but something about him seemed familiar.
"Kid! You're awake! That was some crazy stuff you tried to pull." The man said, his voice carrying a slight southern drawl. It kind of reminded him of Doctor McCoy.
"I-I'm sorry?" He asked, his voice sounded as though he'd just gurgled a bunch of rocks. "What happened? Where am I?"
The man came closer to his set of bars, and Chekov could see the glint of light reflecting off of hair. He had a big, bushy beard. "I guess ya would be confused after that stunt you pulled. You somehow managed to jam the lock open with the metal pin on your uniform. Put up quite a fight against the guards too, man... I wish I had the balls to pull that off."
The more the man spoke, the more confused he felt. "But where are we?" He asked, his eyes searching the darkness for anything familiar. He didn't recognize any of it.
"You're now property of The Collector. He took me about forty years ago."
Chekov frowned in confusion. "Who's The Collector?"
"You'll find out." The man replied, he sat back against the stone wall of his cell. "Man, that stunt was cool."
Pavel didn't even have time to think about the man's words before a door suddenly opened, blinding him with bright light. A man, a guard, he presumed, stepped into the hall separating the two men from each other. He was humanoid, but his skin was a deep greyish blue. He noticed a darker shade of blue on the man's cheek, and he had a slight memory of punching him.
The guard stopped at his cell and unlocked the door. "The Collector wishes to speak with you." He said, his voice had a strange accent, and it made his words seem even more ominous.
The guard unlocked the chains from the wall, and forced him from his cell.
