A/N:
Howdy every one! I hope no one became ill with me over chapter 6. Chapter 6 serves a deeper purpose and was not meant to be longer than what everyone read. It was more of an 'Intermission,' if you will. It was not meant to play a vital turning point, except to close part 1, and shed some light of the secrets surrounding Damien and Knick's existence, and the story's revelations yet to come.
Bare everyone, for all will be known.
Anyone Hope you all enjoyed it, and now it's time for a one-shot!
Sincerely with big love,
Mr. Michael R. Anderson.
And may the blood stain your hand….
A scream pierced the darkness. The scream raked my soul with terror, and my eyes strained in the infinite darkness. A constant dripping rang through the endless void, and screams echoed at irregular intervals. My breath shallowed and I strained in the dark to move. What was going on? Where was the screaming coming from and who was the owner of the scream?
I began to panic and move, but my arms were bound above my head by chains and gave little room for movement. A sickening, horrid smell infected my nose, and made me wish I couldn't smell. The stench was foul, almost as someone had left a carcass to rot. An uncontrollable urge to get away swept over me, and a sinking feeling came over me. I was going to die in this dark hellish place. Whatever was happening to the person screaming, a similar fate was sure to befall me. I strained more and tried to move the chain, only causing them to rattle in the semi-quiet darkness. The rattling chains echoed through the halls and reverberated back, rustling what sounded like mice, and something else stirred in the void.
"Calm Comrade, do not make so much noise. The Colossus may come and claim your soul early," spoke a man with a thick Russian accent. He sounded close and the thought of another human being down here eased my terror, but added skepticism. What if he killed me? What if he is working with this 'Colossus'? I didn't want to wait around to find out, but I really couldn't get out.
"W-w-who are you? Where am I? Are you friend or foe?" I said, trying my best to regain my composure, settling my breathing and seem like I was doing okay. This was a lie.
"My name in your language is Arthur. And you are?" he asked, slapping his thick Russian onto his words.
"Felix, Felix Meadows," I said, trying to hold onto my composure.
"Well nice to meet you Felix, how did an American get into a Russian War prison?" he said.
"W-What?" I asked, straining, but to no avail, to see into the darkness.
Arthur explained how this was a Russian war prison for members of the Russian Army who were thought to have defected to the U.S. during the Red Scare and the Cold War. He explained how people here were known traitors, defectors, war criminals and any other scum the Russian government thought could easily be disposed, especially if the ideals didn't match their own. Arthur informed me that if I'm here, then apparently I did something the government thought worthy enough to condemn me to this hell hole.
"The lights should come on any moment comrade. Do not worry," and as the words left his lips, there was a distant flicker of light. One after another lights sprang to life throughout the cell-block, illuminating the block and blinding me from the brightness. I clenched my eyes and slowly opened them, allowing my eyes time to adjust to the light.
As the world became full of light and my vision was clear, I wished someone would've never turned the damn lights on. There were many bodies in the cell block, cells lined the wall and extended 100 feet to the left and to the right, all the way to the only way in or out of this place. A metal door stood firmly in place about twenty-five feet to my left, or about fifteen cells away. The smell that clouded my sense of smell was the smell of death indeed. Bodies lined the floor, the floors of the cells and some bodies even hung from the ceiling, dripping blood to the cold hard floor and formed puddles, here and there throughout the cellblock.
There were still people alive, but the dead outweighed the living ten to one. The scene horrified me and my stomach clench in agony as vomit rushed up my esophagus and onto the cold, blood, and piss soaked ground. What the fuck did these people do down here? What the hell is this place?
"Well, comrade? How do you like your new home?"
I turned to see Arthur for the first time. He occupied the cell next to me and was not chained. He was an older man, approximately late forties, early fifties, with a medium length salty-pepper beard that reached to the middle of his chest. He grinned wide to reveal a few missing teeth, and a gruesome scar adorned his upper lip and extended to his forehead, right through his left eye, which was a milky white color. He had matted brunette hair, with little graying that just did touch his shoulders. He was rough, as if he has fought in many battles, each time earning a scar. His features were admirable and proved that he has been through much.
"Well, it certainly isn't the slums of Daten City, but it's….new," I said half-heartedly.
The Russian laughed heartedly and wiped a bit of grime off his cheek and moved closer to my bars. "Listen friend, I don't know what you did to get put in this prison or who you upset. But you best learn the ropes," the Russian said again laughing. He walked to the entrance of his cell opened the rusty door with a tug. Walking out of the cell, he looked around and came to my cell and opened my door. He walked in my cell, picked up a rusty pipe and came swinging down, breaking the chains.
"Welcome to hell, Comrade."
