Why, Author Unknown, what are you doing up at this ungodly hour?

Oh, I'm just posting this little second chapter so I can get the third chapter up sometime tomorrow.

Weren't you just at the bank desperately putting in a check in the bank to cover a bill you just paid?

What? No, that was my doppelgänger! Fred.

You're a girl.

You're a hack!

You're...

Disclaimer: Not MINE MINE MINE. (like Finding Nemo)


Chapter Two:

A Shocking (non)Escape

Offended and angered by Cain's infinite pessimism Ambrose plopped down beside the lug. "You know, you would benefit from a long, soothing meditation, Cain. It really would do wonders for that despicable personality of yours."

"Is it a silent meditation?" Cain asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, it can be," Ambrose replied.

"Alright," Cain said with a slow nod. "Show me how."

Ambrose nodded. It was about time Cain took his advise on something. He crossed his legs and put his hands in his lap. "Get in a comfortable position and take three deep breaths." He did so.

Cain followed in suit.

"Just close your eyes and clear your mind of everything," Ambrose continued.

Cain closed his eyes as Ambrose did.

"Mmhmm," Ambrose heard Cain murmur from beside him.

"And just breeeeeaaathe," Ambrose said. "In and out."

After a few moments of this Ambrose was feeling quite calm, peaceful even. There was a goofy smile on his face. After a few moments Cain, on the other hand, had become a little lightheaded with all the breathing and opened an eye to his friend to make sure he was still in deep meditation.

"Doesn't that feel better, Cain?" His friend didn't answer. "Cain?" Nothing. He lowered his brows in confusion and opened one eye to find an empty space beside him. "Cain?" he whispered.

Looking around with his one eye opened to the world and the other squinted in determination of meditation he spotted the tin man at the door trying desperately to heave it past the threshold of its locks. Ambrose sighed and reluctantly abandoned his meditation techniques. He stood up and approached the man.

"You know. I really doubt that if both of us couldn't get it up you can get it up."

"I know," Cain answered with a grunt and another heave.

"Oh, good. Don't come to me when your back goes out, then!"

"I won't." Another straining push.

"Why are you doing this! It's futile!"

"Can't do nothin'," he muttered.

"Ah. Boy scout syndrome again. I thought we got over this, Cain." No answer. Ambrose paced. "Give it up, leader-boy! You can't expect to lift the door all by your–"

Creak.

"Lift! Lift! Lift!" Ambrose cheer-leaded, enthusiastically as he clapped.

There was a loud pop as the sheer determination of the tin man broke the locks on the door. With astounding effort, the effort that could only be brought on by spending an extended amount of time with Ambrose, the door started to rise! But as quickly as the door was brought up a sheen of ethereal blue energy blanketed the door and the door, along with Cain, was brought down abruptly leaving our strong hero slammed into the ground below him, wheezing for breath.

"Oh. Right," Ambrose said, biting his bottom lip. "Magic."

"What?" Cain struggled to say from his position on the ground.

"The queen had this cell shrouded in magic when it was clear Azkadelia was under the influence of the witch. It had been a plan to keep her here but she didn't have the heart to lock her eldest daughter up. I don't think I would have, either," he ended, sadly.

"Couldn't of shared that knowledge before?" Cain wheezed, still trying to prop himself up.

"I was...caught up in your brute strength!" Ambrose argued. "My noggin isn't as sharp as it used to be, you know. I'm easily distracted by displays of mindless testosterone. What can I say? I'm a sucker for caveman mentality." He shrugged.

Cain had finally worked himself into a sitting position. He grunted as he leaned against a wall and looked at the door. "No other way out, then?"

"No," Ambrose confirmed taking Cain's example and sitting down. He had long abandoned the attempt to stay clean.

Cain took a moment to glance over at Ambrose. The zipper on his head had been replaced by a scar the same width and length of the zipper. His hair was currently combed over this place but the beginning of the scar tissue was visible on his forehead where the end of the zipper had been. Cain had feared when he spoke to Ambrose for that small moment while Glitch was in contact with the rest of his brain that the man would be as stuffy as he had sounded and arrogant as well.

Fortunately the amalgamation of the man's experiences had toned Ambrose down quite a bit, though there was still a dark presence as if the memory of being locked in a tank with no way to escape only left with one's thoughts was still present. It was only in these times of silence that Ambrose's face became stern, sterner than the painting they had seen while in the castle in the north. Cain assumed this was the reason that the Glitch persona came out frequently so that thoughts didn't run to the time locked in that large glass jar.

Cain wasn't as mindless and cave man like as he appeared. Ambrose suddenly shuffled beside him. He was pulling something from his pocket. It was a piece of folded parchment.

"What's that?" Cain asked.

"D.G. She drew a picture for me. She," Ambrose unfolded the paper handed it to Cain, "saw me out on the balcony one day staring off into the distance. I believe I was thinking of a way to safe guard my inventions from ever being used for evil again. She told me not to move and did a quick sketch. That girl has magic in her fingers when she draws. I can't even draw a stick figure but she, she can make life out of something so two dimensional as a drawing." Ambrose smiled, admiringly.

The picture was, indeed, something intriguing. She had caught Ambrose's expression perfectly and, though the pencil marks were haphazard, it made the finished drawing look as if it could walk right off the paper. Cain was always taken aback at this ability in D.G. The girl had always served to amaze him with everything she accomplished. He folded the drawing back up and gave it to his companion.

"Magic," Ambrose muttered, rubbing his fingers along the creases of the drawing. Suddenly his face lit up. "Of course!"

Cain turned a curious eye to him. Ambrose shot up and went to the door of the cell.

"It just might work!" Ambrose exclaimed.

"Care to enlighten me?" But Cain sensed it was futile to interrupt the epiphany of idea when Ambrose was in the midst of it.

"D.G.'s magic is locked in this drawing. Certainly if it were used as a talisman it might just act as a key. Perhaps if I hold it up to the inner workings of the door it just might be able to open it up letting us go." Without a second thought, Ambrose climbed up the door once more.

Cain had his misgivings and expressed them for all the good it did. "Wouldn't the queen have known magic could be used–"

"Yes, but D.G.'s magic IS the queen's magic!" Ambrose insisted.

He shoved the paper into the shimmering blue light of magic that kept the door closed. It was a frantic gesture, something Ambrose would have never done. He would be far more restrained in the matter. Perhaps he would even volunteer Cain for the job.

For a moment nothing happened.

Cain had a distinctively uncomfortable feeling about this. He stood and crossed his arms as if prepared for something to go amiss. He wasn't completely certain about magic. He'd never understood it completely. All he did understand that it was a lot of power. And playing with that much power was never too sure.

Ambrose whimpered pleading to the piece of paper to do something, anything. "Come on. Come on," he muttered. Suddenly there was a flash of light. But as soon as Ambrose's face alighted with joy an unseen power catapulted the man across the cell slamming him into the back wall.

Cain, by instinct, held onto his hat as he stared wide-eyed at his friend's ragdoll appearance as he dropped down to the ground.

"Glitch!"