"Hey!... Okay, just, speak, tell me who the Prince is and you may leave in peace, pleasant rewards, great things, I promise, I just need you to tell me who this elusive royal is, please. "
The delusional asylum patient laughed at his futile attempt to gather this desperately needed information. It was utterly pathetic and amusing to the young delusional, so she laughed, in his face, demented, shoulders shaking, head bobbing, yellowish white gown spawning across the dinged floor.
"The Prince, is the Prince, hee, heh... We know no other than the Prince, none, None!" She laughed fully, head thrown back, mouth wide open, enjoying the worthless display of intrest in her. The wild look in her eye was caught by the cheif, it suggested that she with held valuable information from him, he knew, and yet... By the nature of the slippery Prince, this seemed about right.
The Cheif was a broad man, wide shoulders, a sculpted face with a firm jaw. Brown eyes that flicked with determination, giant calused hands that could cover your face, long legs, barrel chest, 6"2. As fearsome as he looked, he was a gentle man, who would never harm anyone unless truly needed.
With no new information brought up by the long drawn day, he had the young girl returned to he cell.
The Cheif steadily paced to the side of the room rubbing his temples, ampled up by the refusal of every patient to speak and somehow at ease, perhaps, just maybe, they were all telling the truth. He sighed and sat down behind scratched plexi-glass, tired and worn by the days monotory. An absent minded nurse sat, eyes drooping, next to him. She pat his back half-heartedly.
"Don't worry, Sir. We'll get the information soon enough. Don't worry-"
"How can I not worry, when the next target is likly my family? My own flesh and blood! He'll tear them apart," He sighed, "I know he will, his ways of torment and just, just, sick. To know that my own daughter may have to suffer through this, horrible, thing, it makes me want to vomit. I'm be the Cheif of this asylum, and yet I cannot protect my family that this job poses me for. We cannot tell many, some won't listen despite our offers of evidence." He layed his head in his hands.
"Cheif, Sir, please don't worry, it will all be resolved soon." The Nurse smiled genuinely, now fully aware of the Cheif's depressing presence.
Just as she finished the statement, a bell rang, buzzed rather, sounding that someone was in the front of the large asylum.
The Nurse checked security cameras. The dull black and white screen revealed two figures. A tall one in a dark cloak, and another young one, lying, back to the ground, in shackles, ropes, chains, duct tape encircling his entire head, showing only from his nose up. He appeared to be laughing despite his gag.
A decent team of nurses head to the door, mainly males just in case it got messy, but as they approached the door, the tall figure flickered out of vision. Seeing something like that on such a dark night made most of them shiver, but they exited reguardless and examined the boy on the ground.
He could be no older than fifteen, still childish and young in his mind, he was insane. They observed his features: Smooth pale skin, blonde hair that covered his eyes, thin, slender body. Shirt with a collar so large it hung down his small shoulders.
He giggled cutely, kicking his tiny shackled feet. As he flung about, he kicked up leaves and a note, a reddish color hardly noticeable amongst the crunchy autumn leaves. A Nurse with brown hair reached down and snached up the note;
This is the Prince, believe me or not, I do not care, your funeral if you do not heed.
Place him in a safe-guard room, soft, or you will surely die.
Take care of him and do not pay mind to me, I heard a simple rumor and aided.
-€€€-
The small note ended in symbols none of them recognized.
The giddy boy on the ground fit the description of the Prince they had, blonde, pale skin, over-grown hair, and an unmistakable tiara crown that was unremovable, no matter how hard they tugged on it, it refused to budge.
They heaved up they feather-weight boy with ease and presented him to the Cheif, who stared in complete dis-belief.
He touched the sides of the mass murder's face, gaping at the boy, it was the Prince, it was him!
"T-take him to the soft cell! Immediatly!"
The nurses seemed reluctant to do so, he was a murderer! But, he seemed so innocent. As the female nurses, he chatted with them, as if he were with them getting ice cream.
"I want chocolate, No! Vanilla! No, no! Wait!... Sweet sugar! Something like you!"
The Nurse, Janet, smiled and blushed accordingly, enjoying the cute comments.
"Can I please have the pretty ice cream? Please, please, pleeeeaasssee?" He asked adorably.
"Mmmm...Maybe." The Nurse teased, "But you have to be a good boy, kay?"
The young Prince smiled wholely, "Mkay!"
She walked him to his room, in the back of the insane facility, dissappearing in the faint darkness of the boy's new cell.