He had been there for as long as he could remember. He had been in this very cell for years and years. How old was he now? He didn't know, and he hadn't been able to keep track of the days that passed either. For all he knew, he could be thirty-seven.
At least, all those maybe-thirty-seven years he had spent thinking. They had blind-folded him, so his eyes had not been in use for that same amount of time. He slightly feared how bright the world might be to him if he ever took the damned thing off.
A lot of that time spent thinking, he had been trying to deny his own identity. He hated it so much - he hated his father, he hated his cousins, he hated his grandfather - why couldn't they have just never created him? Then he wouldn't have been stuck here.
But, he reminded himself, but you have them to thank for the people you've saved.
A small smile came to his face at the thought of his old home - Morioh Island. He didn't remember what it looked like, but he always thought of his mother, probably the only person he didn't hate with his entire being. She had been trying her best to raise him to be a good man, in no way did she deserve a cruel death like the one she had received.
Fuck the Marines, he scowled. They didn't have to wipe out his entire island, all of the people who had powers like himself. The only reason they spared him was because his power was considered more dangerous than most, and a valuable asset.
The only time he interacted with another person besides the guards giving him meals and that man (was his name Spanda? Spandex? Spartan? He couldn't remember) who occasionally passed by to verbally abuse him, was when they brought someone in for him to restore. And by restore, he meant completely repair their body.
He didn't know, maybe he'd never make it out.
...
And, of course, since he has the horrible luck and the plot armor of a protagonist, he did.
He heard the sound of struggling and jostling chains, raising his head as if he were looking at the source of the noise. Not that he could, but his hearing had enhanced to superhuman levels over the years, allowing him to roughly estimate their location.
The voice of a young man was heard, buzzing and rowdy. The noise stopped not too far down the hall from his cell, and he heard the guard open the door and push what sounded like two people in, who stumbled before the gate was closed and locked once more.
"You'll regret this!" came the male voice again, and he couldn't help but smile. It had been too long since he had heard someone other than the dull voices of the Marines.
There was a moment of silence, before hearing the man question the other individual of who the 'strange man in the cell' was. The sound of shoes timidly approaching him grew closer and he tilted his chin upwards, looking at where he presumed the person's (probably a woman, since their shoes were distinctly heels) head to be. He smiled a slightly crooked smile, trying to be at least a bit welcoming.
"Mister Prisoner, if you don't mind, could you tell me your name?" Ah, yes, it was a woman, he confirmed. An adult, judging from her voice.
He coughed and cleared his dry throat before pausing. Should he say his actual name? "...I don't particularly like my name, so you can call me Josuke, if that's alright with the two of you."
"I see." The three descended into an awkward silence before Josuke decided to speak up.
"Actually, what're your names? I can't be saying Sir and Miss all day," he said lightheartedly, extracting a chuckle from the man.
"Franky," said the male voice. "She's Nico Robin." Josuke nodded, accepting his answer.
"Well, I can't say that this is the most pleasant place to get acquainted, but nice to meet you," Josuke smiled crookedly again before coughing a few times, his dry throat interrupting him.
"Josuke, how long have you been here?" Robin's voice brought his attention back to the two others in the cell.
"Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea. No specific time, anyways. If it answers your question, I've been here for as long as I can remember. It's been years since I've talked to someone other than the Marines," he explained.
"That's a long time to stay in a depressing and cold cell," Franky remarked and Josuke sighed almost sadly.
"You can say that because you've seen more than just blackness and you've felt more than bricks to sit on," he said with a slight bit of jealousy in his voice. "To me, this is the safest place to be; it's home, and it probably always will be."
A tense silence hung over them as his words sank in, before he heard someone sit down not too far from himself - he believed it was Robin but he wasn't sure.
"How'd you even get here anyways? Why was your ass dragged into this place?" Franky asked, confused. To him, the blindfolded male seemed like a good person - what could he have possibly done?
"My ass got dragged here for existing," he said bitterly. "They can't handle an innocent island minding its own business, it seems." The two seemed to be getting the hint. "I'm from an island that used to be full of people, and a very small amount had powers. The World Government apparently classified us as dangerous, and rather than just taking out the ones with powers, they decided to kill everyone." Josuke's fist clenched, the chains preventing him from moving any more.
"You're the last survivor?" Franky guessed, and Josuke nodded slowly.
"I'm not sure, but I'm assuming so. I don't know why they spared only me and not another, or more, but I suppose that's not for me to know." Josuke leaned back and leaned his head against the wall. The three of them paused before he rolled his head against the wall so he was facing them. "I'd ask why you two are here, but it's none of my business."
A hush came over them, and it remained like this until the other two were taken out of the cell without a word.