A/N: If you are about to yell 'continuity error' at me, since in the game, Albel is found in the torture chamber, not in one of the cells, then go ahead and do so. I slapped my own face when I realized that. However, I'll find a way around it.
Chapter 2: Albel
"There, grab her. I'd like to sink my teeth into a new toy!" came a voice. She lifted her head slowly, as the heavy barred door swung open. She narrowed her eyes as two armored men entered the room, heading for her. So, they've come for me. She lifted her chin, staring into the dark visors of their helmets, not with defiance, but dignity. However, she was less dignified as she was hauled off. She didn't kick or scream, it is just a great difficulty to be dignified when one's feet are bound together, and forced to walk, or rather, hop with a sword to one's back.
As she was lead down the dank corridor, she noticed the abundance of prisoners in the other cells. Most of them, no doubt, were war or political prisoners, as opposed to actual criminals. Then there was her. She concluded, from her cellmate's assumption of her being an Aquarian, that she was a prisoner of war. A war she was neither engaged nor interested in.
The door to the torture chamber opened before her. Her restraints were moved so that her arms could be spread, and suspended by chains and shackles. She grit her teeth, knowing what was to come. She growled at the human tradition of inflicting needless pain on each other for something as unsubstantial as what they want to hear. She knew that she'd be interrogated until she said what they wanted to hear, rather than the truth. She sunk into herself, wishing she could be free from her human coil, leaving behind the undesirable traits, and heightening their few redeeming features. With the crack of a whip, and the grab of her jaw, she was thrown back into the present situation. She stared face to face with a leather mask, with a large zipped across where the mouth ought to be, like a row of hundreds of malicious teeth.
"I said, what is your name!? Not that you'll remember it by the time I'm through with you…" the muffled, gritty voice poured out from beneath the mask. She pulled her chin away, staring at the stout, wide man. He was wide, but not very tall. His wideness was not a result of lazy days wasted, but appeared to be from a healthy diet of meat and exercise. Of course, that exercise likely resulted in the pain of others.
"Bella Lecross," she said sourly. His grubby, gloved fingers let go of her chin, and she shook her head, as if trying to shake the filth off of her face. This seemed to disappoint him, but he then began with his next question, hoping she'd be defiant in order to warrant a lashing of his whip.
"What business do Aquarians have at the Bequerel mines!?" he demanded. Bella shrugged, as best as someone in shackles can.
"I don't know. I didn't see any Aquarians while I was there," Bella responded shortly; wise crack for a whip crack. Was it worth it? Her ability to stifle the cry of pain told stories of how much it was worth it.
"Don't get smart with me!" his grungy voice warned, although it lacked the passion of one who is insulted. Instead, his warning almost sounded like a plead for more. Several new stinging lacerations stretched across her body as he demanded again to know what the Aquarians were planning - and how much they knew of Airyglyph's plans.
"I don't know any of that useless information!" she insisted. It became a repetitive encounter, with the demand of the same question, or one like it, and the same answer, followed by physical punishment. It was painful, but pain was something that she had devoted herself to overcome. However, in her devotion, she learned it was impossible to overcome it. One can only hope just to understand and manage it. Eventually the pain would be so great that it would cause her wretch and vomit. Even after that sicekning ordeal, she would likely collapse. Nonetheless, she would not die, and the pain would eventually return to the background. Thus was the philosophy she played through her mind during the interrogation.
"Well, then what were YOU doing there?" the man finally asked, clueing in that rephrasing the question, even if slightly, might get results. After all, he needed to eventually get some results to keep up the integrity of his work. Bella fought to lift her head, and stare into the two holes in his mask.
"Dragons…" was all of her response, before her head fell, while her eyes rolled upwards. Everything went black. Again.
Bella stirred again, back in her cell, with her arms bound behind her. Her feet were free this time. It puzzled her, but she had no complaints. Her thighs stung from being whipped. She looked down at the angry red lines that interrupted the tattoos she took such pride in. She was not particularly vain, but seeing the patterns messed like that caused her to express open displeasure. At least, it must have been open; otherwise she would not have received a remark from her graciously pleasant and hospitable cellmate.
"Fool, if you just told them you'd have an easy way out…" he seemed to trail off, withholding a second portion of his remarks. Bella raised her head, staring at him, waiting patiently. She could see in the twisted way the corners of his lips upturned in a wicked smile that he had more to say. "..they'd simply kill you then."
Bella shook her head, her coppery hair falling over her eyes. Death was not her destination. She'd rather hurt than die. It would seem a waste if she laid down and died, and for what? Lying to say what someone wants to hear? She glanced up at the man. "Death is not an option."
"Is that so?" he asked, in a mocking tone. "You don't have any options, fool. It's either die slowly and painfully, or die quickly. It's simple…" Bella rolled her stiff shoulders. If she could just get her full range of motion back, she could…
"Simple, hm? " she responded. Whatever muscles she could move or flex, she began to stretch. Groans and hisses pressed past her lips as she did so. She could feel the heat and sting course through her body, but she was determined not to wait much longer. She had been patient long enough, but the truth that she could not stand restraints pressing against her. With her leather armor removed, it would be easy to at least relieve one of her problems.
Slowly, she curled herself tight, in a slightly crouched position. Carefully, she leaned back until her bound hands touched the ground. Through an amazing feat of flexibility and balance, she put one foot, and then the other, through the loop created by her tied-together arms. With a sickening crack from her shoulders, she brought her bound hands now in front of herself.
"Fool, do you really think you can escape?" came that voice again. Bella glanced over at him. Something had been bothering her, and now it began to manifest in her mind. He was terribly out of place. She frowned, holding her hands in front of her, examining the leather straps tied tightly to her wrists.
"My body is too exhausted to make it past soldiers, and flee to where it is safe. I just hate restraints. I'll wait until this resolves itself." She brought the leather straps to her mouth, and grimaced as she began to gnaw at them. This warranted a piteous shake of the head from the other occupant.
"So you're just going to wait here and die?" he asked. She flashed him a look, a smile riding on her lips.
"You said it was simple - either I die fast, or die slowly. I prefer to die comfortably if at all," she responded in a milky tone. Her mouth was then occupied once more with the removal of the straps, putting to work her abnormally sharp canines and bicuspids. She could feel his eyes on her as she worked at it. Eventually, she managed to tear her hands apart, and let them rest at her side with a relieved sigh. Bella stood up, and stretched her arms up in the air. Triumph! She walked over to the single slab-for-a-bed and sat on it, staring back at the man.
"…I don't imagine I could get a name out of you, or why you are here?" she asked. As much as she prided herself on patience, she needed a distraction from the pain. There was going to be long periods of stinging, aching, and discomfort. At least there was someone to talk to, even if every other word was an insult or a scoff.
"You don't know?" his voice indignantly crept out of his chapped lips. He closed his eyes as he took some time to consider that perhaps his name isn't so well known. Bella merely shook her head.
"No. I do not bother with politics, wars, or commerce between cities," Bella responded. She turned and stretched her legs out in front of her atop the hard bed.
"I see…" he finally said, his eyes still averted. He lowered his head and passively leaned against the pull of the chains. Bella waited a moment or two in silence. She wasn't a social person by nature, but she also wasn't used to confinement. Lest she lose herself, all that self discipline and calm exterior she worked to gain, she conceded to practicing her insubstancial social skills. As out of practice they were, it was embarrassing how easily it came to her.
"Well, then who are you?" Bella finally asked. He lifted his head and looked at her. She regarded him with a neutral expression, emphasized by the tattoos that scrawled down her cheeks.
"The name is Albel," came his short reply.
"Albel," Bella repeated, letting the syllables work their way into her memory. She raised a hand to her chin, trying to recall if, during her times spent in the cities, she'd heard the name. Something seemed familiar… but… other than that nagging feeling of familiarity, she could not place anything to the name, or his fine-featured face.
"My name is Bella Lecro-," she slowly responded.
"I don't care what your name is, worm!" her interrupted rudely. Bella stared at Albel. It wasn't a glare, just merely a stare. "You won't, either, when you've been here long enough," he said in a slightly softer, yet somehow more menacing, tone. Bella continued to stare at him with an unchanged expression.
"Why are you here? Criminal charges? Or are you here because of this war?" Bella asked, clenching her teeth. The aching from straining her battered muscles was returning with a throbbing vengeance.
"I'm not just any lowly, criminal scum," he responded in a low growl. Bella waited for further explanation, but none ever came. She watched him as he hung there, his head lowered, casting a veil of shadows over his face. He continued to remain silent. Bella sighed. This plan of socializing to pass the time was not very fruitful thus far. Bella decided on a better, and more familiar, alternative. Sleep.
