By Ranma Inverse
Chapter Two
Author's Notes: T_T NO REVIEWS?! *cries* Well,
I'll write this chapter since I got ONE email about it. Please revieeeew,
I BEG OF THEE!!!!
. . .
Red eyes narrowed impatiently and he fought to supress a growl. Why the hell hadn't the carraige arrived at the old fool's manor yet? Surely an aristocrat having attended the selling area of slaves would live nearby?
The aging man turned his head to Vocal and rose a white and bushy eyebrow. "I'm not taking you to where I live," he interpretted Vocal's expression correctly.
Vocal hmphed. "Then where are we going?"
"I'm taking you to my granddaughter as a gift. It is about time she learned the responsibility of controlling and owning a slave. From your looks, you might e able to teach her things she should know. Perhaps." The old man was obviously hinting him something. "However she deals with you, you are going to be her slave. You will meet her in two days."
Frustration grw in the demonic slave. "Two days?!"
The old man looked slightly suprised, "You wish to get to work sooner?"
No, it's just I don't like to wait so long until I get to meet the pathetic, obviously ugly, since that's what most tend to be, aristocrat bitch I have to kill to gain my freedom, Vocal thought silently.
An idea rose in Vocal's mind and he smiled cruelly, clenching his hand into a fist and punching the carraige door out of it's hindges and sending it flying down to the ground. The old man yelled in suprised as Vocal jumped out and ran.
The circlets on his wrists prevented him from harming the one who owned him. Right now the circlets prevented him from harming the old man, but he could still fight others, since the old man had not commanded him to not harm others.
He could hear guards chasing after him due to the yell of the old man and increased his speed. This was a chance to escape slavering, and Vocal was going to try.
His head collided into a tree and as he fell onto the ground his limbs were tangled in some forest vines. He let out many curses and struggled angrily as the aristocratic old man's guards found and surrounded him, aiming guns and staffs, ready to fire or send out a spell.
He struggled violently as he was dragged out, and was in return beaten into a bloody pulp. As consciousness left him, he cursed aristocrats and the sick bastard who had first thought of the hellish slavery.
. . .
When he awoke, rain poured down upon his bloody, wounded and already soaked to the core body. He groaned and surveyed his surroundings. The jerky motions moving him uncomfortably up and down and making the chains around him rub harshy against his wounded skin was being caused by the carraige he was on the top of and the bumpy road it was crossing.
Despite the chains, Vocal somehow managed to hug himself to keep what little bit of warmth left inside. It was a futile attempt.
Vocal growled as he realized he had been chained to the carraige. Not only that, but the aristocrat man and the guards weren't giving him any way to keep warm. The lack of food was something he expected, so he was not angered as much by that. He sneezed. Damnit. He'd thought that he would recieve some kindness from the old aristocrat man.
It was clear that he had thought wrong. He shook his head to shake some of the water out of his soaked violet hair.
One guard did have conscience enough to tell him that he had been unconscious for the majority of the two days and that in a few hours they would arrive at their destination.
"'Bout damn time," grumbled Vocal before recieving a whack over the head with a staff that could reach him. "Shit! Stop that!"
Another painful hit and a command from one of the guards. "Quiet, slave!"
His head hurt like hell now along with the rest of his body.
The old fool's daughter was going to pay for what he was going through.
