Hello! Restless Collector Here! To be completely honest I have no Idea what I am doing...that said, here's an AU! I don't own The Dishonored Franchise...Arkane Studios have that luxury.
Edit: Massive Thank You to Nucleophile for the edits, Be sure to check out his current Project What Lies Beneath.
Coldridge Prison, Interrogation Room, Length of Captivity: Two Months …..The length of questioning:?
"Gaaaahhhhh!" A dry scream escaped his throat as hot metal made contact with his skin, the smell of seared flesh invaded his nostrils.
Huff...huff...Inhale… conserve your energy...can't pass out... not here, gotta kee...keep it togeth- Rahhhhhhhhh!"
Blood and piss made its way down his ragged trousers, running down the chair in a brownish, reddish puddle.
There goes my pride...
His eyes swiveled to meet those towering over him. Unintelligent, but shining with glee at his handiwork. He had heard stories of Morris Sullivan. (The guards were loose-lipped describing the corpses taken in and out on a weekly basis.) How the Empress allowed him in her employ, baffled him. "Uwahhhhhh!"
"That's enough for today Morris." A voice cut through the heat of metal— nasally, but authoritative. "Leave us."
A grunt escaped his lips, but with one last prod and a twisted glare, he left.
"-Now I hope you are willing to cooperate, Sullivan never tires from the Workplace I assure you..."
The Spymaster inspected the boy, and after a minute or so, a sigh crept from his lips. The day of the execution was drawing near, and the street rat was proving to be a bigger pain in the ass than he had hoped.
"You're making this harder than this has to be." He kept his composure, arms folded behind his back. "All we need from you is a statement regarding the location of your little...organizations hideout. In doing so we'll make sure your last days here comfortable."
Roland looked up, "Comfortable? *gasp* What...*gasp* I'm going to be allowed to spend my days in the..*cough, cough* cathouse savoring grapes and girls?" he hissed.
A chuckle could be heard in the halls. Thorpe had a sense of humor. Who knew?
"Good to see you in high spirits, but it was more along the lines of clean water, and a meal every night " He continues to stare until a chuckle broke out. "You continue to impress me, never met someone as bull-headed as you, especially at your age, but you see it's time to face reality."
The smile is gone, a look of glass replacing it, transparent to the untrained eye. Morals screwed and nonexistent.
He places a pen and paper on the table, an act done so aplenty, a confession in need of a signature.
His signature.
"You will write your signature on this document, in doing so you will admit to your involvement in the assassination of Empress Josephine, and the disappearance of Lady Emily."
"You know very well that I didn't-"
"Kill her?" he finished with eyebrows raised. "Never said you did, You couldn't pull this off alone. You had help."
The dank air went stiff, the crackling of hot poker filling the silence between the two.
"No matter. We'll find the accomplice, as we did the others."
Handing over the pen, he motions to the document before him.
"Now sign."
With shaky hands, and three broken fingers (Morris wanted to experiment last week) he began to write.
He handed over the confession. The Spymaster's face cracked with a sneer, Now was that so ha- the smile fell as he read the contents...
Letter of Confession
I, Hereby confess, to the assassination of Empress Josephine Kaldwin, the abduction of Emily Kaldwin, and Silverleaf's involvement in the robbery/theft towards the royal treasury
Signed,
Go Fuck Yourself
"...I see." Rage seemed to emit from Hiram's eyes. Ever so childish, the bastard was, never could see the greater picture in the grand scheme of things.
So be it.
"We don't need a signature for you to meet the guillotine, boy! It just would have made the transition easier."
He placed the document in his pocket.
"Thorpe? Escort this filth back to his cell, he said with a wave of his hand. "He has yet another appointment with Sullivan tomorrow. No need to be gentle."
Bloodied, sullied, and shackled, Roland was unstrapped and escorted to his cell.
4 Months Prior...
"Lox! Did you finish it or not!?"
Finny lacked two qualities— manners, and patience. everywhere she went some form of mischief soon followed, and the only one who could stand her was him, Roland Lox Harlen.
Lucky me...
Roland poured the contents into the capsule.
"I'm still trying to understand why you are asking for a wax key." Closing the casket, he sat it inside a pail of water to cool.
"You can easily go to get to the second floor via the window. I'm sure with effort, you can squeeze right-" A small fist collided with Roland's shoulder, eliciting a small bruise.
"Arsehole!" She folded her arms as she leaned against the wall.
"The key is for the basement. I heard that it's where they keep their whale oil reserves," Fin's eyes seemed to glitter in the moonlight. With it, we could keep the Swiftykey running for a year without the annual oil tax!"
"Whale oil? Would be nice to have that weight lifted off the crew for a bit," Roland said as he laid down his tools, "But if we complete this score Fin, we'll be set for life!"
"Still trying to get out the Dunwall huh?" She murmured, twiddling her fingers. She never could sit still...
"The Rat Plague is getting worse, Fin. Have you heard about the sick? Walking corpses, the lot of them. When they're not vomiting their guts out, they make does damn sobbing sounds...Weepers they call them."
Fin shudders ever so slightly.
"-So yes, I'm leaving Dunwall." Roland reopens the casket, revealing an authentic bronze key.
He examined it and tossed it her way, "Take it. Who knows, pull this off and Arwain might let you into the big one."
"Doubt it, but thanks." She began to make her way to the door, but stopped and began to fidget.
Uh-oh
He's seen that look before, last time this happened, Jacob received a black eye and nearly lost teeth. don't ask
"Hey Lox," her fists were clenched and shaking, "you, uh, wouldn't mind me coming with you to Karnaca" – she looked away—"would you?"
She was nearing her breaking point, her eyes were rattling, chipped teeth clenched shut. One wrong move would result in broken bones.
Most likely his.
"I m-mean, if it's getting as bad as you said..wouldn't be best to relocate?" she refused to look his way, eyes downcast, pale skin beet red.
Finny was a small thing. No more than 5'2 to Roland's 5'8, red hair cut into an unkempt bob, giving her a boyish look, her stocky structure cementing the trait, If not the arms hairs. Her attitude and appearance earned her the nickname "Walking Fireball" or "Furball" to the rest of the gang...or what's left of it anyway.
A sigh escaped him. "I don't see why not. I could use the company while I'm there anyhow. Would be nice knowing someone doesn't want me dead on a regular basis."
The answer caught her off guard. Her hands were twiddling in the air and sweating.
"R-Right! What would you do without me you know?!" she said, voice slightly shrill. "Knowing you, you board the wrong ship, not to mention your eyesi-"
"Could we please not talk about that?" Roland said hand raised. "Now go, I have work to do. That and you're wasting moonlight."
"Okay, okay, I'm going! I'll be back to give you your cut when the job's done!" She shot a glare his way, albeit unconvincing, and shut the door behind her.
He sat and waited a full ten minutes to make sure she was gone.
Looking under the table he removed the mat, revealing a latched door. with a grunt, he pulled out the heavy lockbox. Opening it to reveal a diamond shaped insignia ring with a small nub protruding the middle.
Sokolov made only two of these in the world, now there are three. Funny what you can do with a copy of his schematics.
Roland looked through his workshop's window— the Fortress that loomed in the distance, Dunwall Tower.
The people here has gone through a bit of hell. The rats aren't making it any better either...so you don't mind if I take a trinket or two, would you?"
And that is It! WOOOW, Not used to writing like this, not at all! But for the life of me, I'm pushing this out...I got a story to tell after all. be sure to leave a review in the review tab, it's the lifeblood of writers after all...