Caged Like a Songbird
.imprisoned.
He clutched the thick metal bars, cold and unfeeling steel beneath his fingers, unyielding as he shook them. The last cell he was thrown in had weaker bars; he could bend them a little, just enough to try to crawl out. By this time, though, someone—usually Crawford—would grab him by the arm and drag him out himself, off to be beaten until he was left a bloody mess on the floor whimpering his apologies. Of course he never meant what he said, because he wasn't one for apologising in the first place, but it stopped them from killing him—for now.
Crawford would be pissed again.
He was caged here like a songbird for its beautiful melodies, only he was the prized, dangerous telepath hidden away in Rosenkreuz. The only ones who knew he existed were the people here—his parents probably assumed him dead a long time ago. No one else knew, or would have cared, about the boy who could hear voices in his head. The raw potential in this boy they found wandering around in the slums of Berlin... Rosenkreuz wanted it, and what they wanted, they would possess, use it for their own gains.
He was locked up because he submitted to no one except himself. His longing for freedom, to rip apart the metal bars separating him from the walls to the outside world, that wild side to him, could not be diminished or forgotten; they tried and failed countless times to get him to follow the most important rule there.
You will obey.
A door opened after all the locks unclicked—he heard four distinct ones and several smaller ones—and light from the hall spilled forth across the floor, cut off by the silhouette of a man. Footsteps reverberated off the stone walls and the man stopped in front of his cell, hazel eyes peering into the darkness. Schuldig recognised the man in the Class S Captain uniform immediately and scoffed, flashing a smirk at him as he held onto the bars separating them.
"You're here again?" He sounded like he should be used to the telepath's misbehaving.
"Why are you so surprised, Crawford?" His words were tinged with venom. He was practically glaring at him.
Crawford chuckled humorlessly. "I'm not. This is the third time in two weeks. You should be beyond the rebelling stage. At this rate you will end up in Class F instead of the illustrious Class S like you always wanted..."
He scoffed. "Like I'll follow your example and be an obedient little lapdog like you. They—and you—don't own me."
"Don't you remember, Schuldig? We found you on the streets, running away from home. You wanted to come here. You signed on the dotted line that you would work for us, which means Eszett—and by extension, Rosenkreuz—owns you and your ability, and there is nothing you can do about it."
Schuldig growled. "You don't know my name, so you can't own me."
Crawford sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you want to be let out of isolation, you need to promise me you'll behave, A—."
Schuldig practically spat his next words. "I promise nothing, Brad."
"Give me your word—"
"I give no words—you'll just use them against me." He leaned as close to the bars as he could. "I want an exchange."
"You've nothing worth exchanging."
Schuldig scoffed. "You're looking for recruits for this specialised bodyguard group, aren't you?" He made it seem less like a question and more as a statement.
"Yes." There was no use trying to hide anything from him.
"Then I'll tell you what. I'll give you what you need if you give me what I want."
Crawford peered at him for a minute. "And what, exactly, do I need?"
Schuldig smirked again. "A strong telepath, of course."
"There are ones stronger than you currently. Why should I pick you over them?"
"Isn't it obvious? Because I'm dangerous. I can be better than they'll ever hope of becoming."
Crawford turned to leave, but didn't go anywhere just yet.
"Then you need to show me that."
He started walking away, but Schuldig grabbed his wrist through the bars.
"You accept my agreement or I'll find a way out of here."
Crawford wrenched his arm free. "They would kill you before you were anywhere near the front doors."
Schuldig scoffed. "Better to be dead and free than to be alive and imprisoned." He let go of Crawford's arm and retreated further into the cell. "I'll be waiting for your answer."