Disobedience

Vincent tightened his pony tail so that it would not come undone and drape into the steaming water. With a dripping yet soapy black cloth, although it was indecipherable whether this was due to originally being that way or the soot, he gently rubbed it against the other's skin.

At feeling that cloth rub like relentless sandpaper, the receiver cringed and screwed his eyes tightly shut in discomfort as it felt as if the rough soot was scratching deep into the tiny recesses of his skin. Like needles, that was the only comparison Rayman could create, like rough, sore, needle-pricks, each rub of the cloth ten more, and each making him grimace.

Rayman had protested heavily against being bathed by another despite his terrible condition, Vincent merely blinking at the flustered red tinge that had tainted the cream of Rayman's face. It had been strange how subconscious the normally cocky one had become and how he had continued to refuse Vincent's help. Rayman was entirely independent and the mere thought of another helping him in such a situation was, in lack of better words, exceedingly uncomfortable. He had been unhelpfully stubborn to no end, but Vincent had obviously managed to get him to cooperate anyway with logical reasoning. Logic, such a theme that helps in any scenario and succeeds without fault. It obviously did wonders.

Rayman currently sat in the hot bath of which Razoff had strangely given permission for Vincent to use; Vincent narrowed his eyes at this as he scrubbed a little harder to get a clump of soot out. Rayman hissed in pain whilst unintentionally leaning away from the other, the harsher scrubs feeling more like a curse rather than a blessing. But this went unnoticed by Vincent who appeared to be locked away deep within in his thoughts. Razoff never allowed them to use the baths more than once every two weeks, even if they were completely filthy he never permitted it. This was a fact that Vincent had learnt and experienced the hard way. Vincent had a dazed look in his eyes as he thought, he must have actually felt something in order for him to allow this, maybe he understood himself that he pushed Rayman a bit too far.

"I *cough* h-hate that *cough* git!" Rayman croaked out whilst covering his mouth with a gloved hand in another coughing fit.

Vincent gave him a pitied look and rubbed his discoloured purple back soothingly. Yes, Rayman had accepted Vincent's offered help, but in turn he wanted to keep his clothes on. Vincent had found this utterly ludicrous, but had obliged anyway.

"You know, he never allows baths often. That means he must have felt sorry for you, this bath is a luxury so enjoy it while it lasts," Vincent informed quietly in his low voice.

Vincent did not smile once, even as he began to see Rayman's real coloured skin finally begin to show through on the back of the other's head. His face was the usual emotionless mask.

"So, y-you expect me to *cough* like him for this?"

Rayman turned his head with half lidded eyes to stare at the other, tired. Vincent remained silent for a moment.

Vincent once again focused his gaze on the bubbly suds in the water lapping against the sides of the tub instead of meeting the other's eyes. Despite attempting to ignore it, Rayman found he felt a little pity regardless. Was meeting the windows to the soul truly such a precarious sentiment?

"...Not at all," Vincent finally answered.

The other had just started on Rayman's long locks. Rayman just smiled, Vincent's general voice was so comforting to hear. Even though at times he acted emotionless, Rayman did not think for one minute that Vincent was completely so. Maybe not even Vincent himself knew just how innocent and kind he was inside that bottle he cooped himself up in. As Guardian, Rayman could see it in his heart.

In all honesty...Rayman was torn between sympathy and comfort by this. A bottle that is closed for too long becomes harder to open; the lid either becoming rusted, tainted, or tightened by time. And he believed that if it was left for too long, then it was too late to open that full bottle of emotions you hid. The lid would be stuck, your emotions trapped. And you know what happens when something fragile is trapped yet the remaining space continues to fill? It explodes. That bottle of emotions you keep shut away in the cage of your chest will shatter...and you will break. For all he knew, as he stared sadly at the ceiling, this was the path Vincent was already fated.

Out of the blue, Vincent asked timidly, "How...how do you do it?"

"Hmm?" Rayman hummed.

"How do you do it? I mean for heavens sake look at you. How do you stand up to him and throw anything he gives you right back?"

Vincent actually paused in his scrubbing of Rayman's hair to listen intently. The asked one closed his eyes for a few seconds to think, leaving the bathroom in absolute silence.

"Well, I know that if I gave in *cough* my p-pride would be shattered. I find my pride to be *cough* a large part of me and I r-refuse for it to be broken easily, I fight for my pride. I don't like the fact of him being s-satisfied...makes me sick *cough.*"

And Vincent closed his eyes with a small hollow smile, taking in Rayman's answer.

"So, you are a rebellious type in general then?" Vincent continued his scrubbing as if it was merely an unconscious thing; the soap now lathered up all over Rayman's hair and ready to be washed out.

"I thought ya would've picked that up al-already."

Rayman cheekily grinned over his shoulder to his companion. Vincent blinked innocently back, before grabbing a bucket of hot water and easing it over the other's head.

Automatically closing his eyes, Rayman felt the water soothingly wash over his hair and drag the soft bubbles down his body. It eased that irritable soreness all over his skin like caressing hands and he released a relaxed sigh.

Vincent was rubbing the sooty hair with his gloveless fingers to get any remaining soot clumps out. Finally, when hair was once again its original golden colour, he nodded to himself before starting on the other's still discoloured clothes. He began with the red hood tainted with black.

Rayman gazed up at the circular window in the ceiling to see the two crescent moons once again shining in the black sky, it seemed that the moonlight was never strong enough here in the swamp. Just as well, hope itself seemed a faded prospect here.

Pure silence once again enveloped the two; however it was not awkward. It was one which acknowledged each others presence and just made them enjoy each others company—it was a comfortable silence. Occasionally however, Rayman's coughs would unintentionally cut through it.

Abused and exhausted, Rayman yawned. It must be around midnight by this point and black bags were developing under his eyes from his exhaustion. His stomach rumbled on its own accord, begging him to eat something, which he had not done for five days. Gently holding his stomach, he groaned in restrained discomfort. unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed by Vincent who had now finished the clothes on Rayman's body, which looked as good as new.

Pretending not to notice his companion's slightly solemn attitude, Vincent once again kept on his expressionless mask and tapped his Rayman's back to signal that he was done.

XXXX

A cool breeze swept over the mansion that night, icy cold as it rolled over the roofs with a wolfish howl. It nibbled at the roof tiles, rattling them, sending whistling howls vibrating through the gaps as if a piper was playing a luring flute. The blackened trees of the outside swamp were no match as the wind snarled and ripped at their dead branches. All was deadly silent as a smoky ocean of clouds obscured the Twin Moons, taking the only natural light away from the Bog of Murk.

Deep within the confines of the cellar, Rayman lay completely still. Two eyes, wide awake, watched the chains above swaying in the draft that had gotten strangely stronger tonight. His shining eyes narrowed as he listened to the whistle of the wind seeping through the walls. It seemed to beckon to him, to beckon him back to the outside world. A grip on his heart told him to obey its call.

Turning his head, he gazed at Vincent fast asleep on the other bed, his back turned to him as if afraid to show his face.

Ever so carefully, Rayman got up, the rustling of the sheets a gentle sound in this horrid place. He froze when Vincent gave a small, almost cute, groan from his bed. The other shifted slightly in his bed and turned over so that he was lying on his back. Rayman smiled a warm smile at realising the other was a heavy sleeper.

He quietly crept over to him, making sure the clinks of his shoes were not too loud to awake the sleeping figure and forcibly restraining coughs in the process. When he was close enough, he stood before the bed and just watched the other's face with observing eyes.

Vincent looked innocent as always as he slept, chest rising and falling evenly while he peacefully breathed. Rayman tilted his head to the side as he looked at the exhausted bands underlining the other's eyes, at the way his eyelids would twitch slightly, at the lingering frown, as if even in sleep he was tormented. Rayman let out a long breath through his nose and half-closed his eyes at realizing that even during sleep this kind person suffered some sort of scar.

Rayman suddenly sighed and ran his fingers through his golden hair, he could not stay here. After the demeaning horrors of today he knew he had to get out now more than ever, Polokus knows what he would have to do in the future tasks that awaited him. He was not some kind of wild animal that could be retained, and yet...

The Guardian frowned, eyes softening. And yet Vincent was? He could not just leave him here. Perhaps it was some sort of hero complex, but it felt selfish to think of escape when he looked at Vincent. He found it peculiar as he put his hand to his chin with a contemplating expression: he barely knew this male sleeping before him, but it felt as if his aura alone was so innocent that anyone would perish the thought of leaving him behind. It would just feel so heartless and so cruel.

"Psst!"

His heart skipped a beat. Fully alert he spun around, fist clenched at the ready. A fighter's fire burned in his eyes as they turned sharp arctic grey in a second. Rayman glowered at the impenetrable darkness that consumed most of this maze-like cellar. There came a sudden sound of scurrying feet.

"Who's there?" Rayman ordered, glancing to Vincent in the corner of his eye to make sure he had not woken up. "Show yourself."

Nothing answered and he glared in response. His fist tightened to the point you could hear the material stretch. Instead of a reply, something happened that made his strong stance falter.

A small clang was heard and the unmistakable sound of something scraping the stone floor started towards him. He glared as the sound got louder and louder, closer and closer. Before he could say anything, a key, black as coal, smaller than his hand, suddenly appeared from the darkness. It clinked as it spun across the stone directly towards him. He watched suspiciously as the key slowed with one final clink before his feet and remained still.

Rayman whipped his head back up to the shadows and his hair twitched in wonder. Nothing stirred within the thick darkness, the only movement being the swinging chains above.

He unsurely let his fist drop. "Hello?"

Once again no answer came...as if whoever it was had just disappeared without a trace. Was he imagining things? Was this a side effect of that drug?

He slowly trailed his gaze back down to the key with a raised eyebrow, bending down to tentatively pick up the object. It was solid to his touch as he brushed off the dust that had gathered on its surface from the floor. It was as real as what had transpired.

With one final glance at the key in his palm, he turned to Vincent. The other was still fast asleep, but seemed to be stirring slightly. Rayman silently cursed as he could not hold in his coughs anymore and coughed into his hand quietly in fear it would wake the other.

Hurrying passed the beds to the cellar door; he carefully placed the key in the lock. Turning it made a satisfying jolt. The mechanism within gave way. He winced and gritted his teeth, swiftly looking to Vincent to see if the loud noise had woken him. But Vincent's eyes only flickered open for the briefest of second before they sleepily shut on themselves once again.

I'll be back, Rayman mentally told the other, before cracking the door open slightly and silently slipping out.

He blinked as he instantly spotted the metal hook just outside the door—the hook that was supposed to hold his current key. Furrowing his eyebrows he realised, somehow, whoever that was that had given him the key had managed to sneak it inside afterit had been locked...it made no sense.

It was so late it was possibly very early morning, meaning that no one would be awake as Rayman sneaked up the small spiral staircase that lead from the cellar to the foyer. Obviously Razoff did not expect either of them to escape the cellar since he had most definitely locked them in. This was Rayman's chance.

Not a single light was on in the mansion, meaning the only light available was the rare moment when the two crescent moons would manage to break through the clouds, bathing the shiny tiled floor in pearly moonlight. In the darkness his large eyes naturally glowed as the rest of his body practically merged with the shadows. It was barely light enough to see as the Runaway cautiously slunk through the darkness towards the huge front doors.

Like a spy he snuck up to the front doors, not knowing what other traps and mechanisms may arm this place in wait. Taking a deep breath, it caught and he violently coughed, that blasted soot!

He recovered quickly before grasping a giant metal loop of the door and pulling. He gritted his teeth and grunted as the door did not budge no matter how much strength he applied.

"Tough guy, huh?" He challenged, voice breathy as he let go of the handle. "Looks like I need to open you by force."

Without even thinking he charged his fist to maximum and punched the door as hard as he could. The pure force behind it was enough to break bones when it connected with the wood—tough and fast. A tremor carried through his fist as the door only shook in response. The tense silence after the loud thud was deafening.

Rayman trembled as he hoarsely hissed, "...Ouch."

His hand slowly returned to him, completely motionless from the pain. With an expression screaming in discomfort he rubbed the feeling back into his agonised hand. Eyeing the door hatefully with narrowed eyes, he understood that the inside of the doors must be lined with some sort of intense metal. With a snort he acknowledged that this would get him nowhere.

XXXX

He spent the next half an hour running through dark mansion corridors trying to see if there was another liable exit. But, as he had expected, the only way, both in and out, were the front doors. He had even attempted to punch a hole through the wall to the outside world, but the same result as the front doors occurred with much vigour. Honestly, you truly believed that would have been more susceptible? As time passed he was getting more and more bruises and less and less ideas of how to escape this prison.

Charging up the foyer stairs, feet making silent thuds on the red carpet shrouded in shadows, he decided he only had one last resort—the windows. All the windows were on the higher floors. With a grin in place he sprinted down dark corridors and skidded around the corner into Razoff's library, which was next to the room he had previously collapsed in. A stain-glass window lay before him on the opposite wall of the room, letting in the spiritual moonlight in all its glory. He smirked; all he had to do was smash it to pieces and use his helicopter to float down to freedom. He would then figure out a way to get Vincent out.

A small part of his mind niggled at him at perhaps being slightly too selfish in this respect, maybe he should have dragged Vincent along with him just in case? For all he knew, if he did escape, the likelihood being minuscule, he would not be able to retrieve the other.

Confidence flashed through his eyes, a kindling burst of determined flames. He took a sturdy stance and threw back his fist. It was flung towards the glass. It flew at incredible speeds. Getting close—

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Rayman's eyes widened. His fist froze, mere centimetres from colourful glass. In his ears he heard his heart beginning to pound. He could feel it, could feel a presence behind him, could feel stern eyes watching him intently. The room suddenly felt icy cold as tension hooked its talons.

Withdrawing his fist, he ever so slowly turned his head. Immediately, he noticed how the fire was burning bright in the hearth with its glow illuminating the many bookshelves. Despite the dancing embers, the room was inexplicably chilling to the core when Rayman fully turned to meet his captor. How had he not noticed? Had he been so blind by escape that he had become careless? Both in the respect of himself and his companion within the cellar.

Razoff was watching him intensely from his seat next to the fire, the red sofa having been turned to Rayman so they could talk face to face. There were two single sofas, one of which he sat upon. His hat was settled on the arm of the chair as he sat, one leg over the over, leant forward with his fingers together in silent contemplation. His black eyes that reflected the flames beside him were locked onto the other's, never leaving. Rayman had to withhold a shiver as those eyes felt as if they were dauntingly peering into his soul. Apart from that, Razoff was calm as he watched his captive with a hint of amusement.

However, Rayman was not looking at the Hunter. Uneasy eyes were locked on the second sofa that currently housed a sitting ginger cat delicately cleaning the pads of a paw. He furrowed his eyebrows, only now spotting the pearly collar embedded with an exceptionally big topaz reflecting the firelight, making the precious stone shine amber. To him the beautiful jewel appeared almost alive, as if touching it would cause him to feel a warm heartbeat.

Even though the cat was focused on its cleaning task...it still felt as if it was watching him like a predator in the corner of its eye. Rayman shivered.

"Pray tell, how did you escape the cellar?" Razoff questioned and sat back, calmly grabbing his crystal tumbler of cherry coloured brandy and taking a sip. His voice snapped Rayman's gaze to him. "Hopefully you're little night escapade has enlightened you to the fact that you can't escape."

Rayman stared at the alcohol as the Hunter placed it on the table...Razoff had been here all night.

"Wouldn't ya want to know," Rayman stated, grinning cockily. The problem was he did not know how to answer that question since he did not know entirely himself how he had escaped. His eyes glazed over for a second in silent thought. Wouldn'tI want to know...

Razoff unfortunately noticed the unfocused expression and raised an eyebrow. The peculiar thing was this had had happened previously with Vincent when he had first captured him. One night he just got out of the cellar although being locked in, as if someonehad let him out. It was a mystery he had not yet solved and it seemed it had occurred again tonight.

"Anyway, as I stated, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Razoff smirked over the rim of his glass as he tilted his head towards the untouched window. His smirk widened when Rayman merely scowled at him in distain. "By all means, try if you desire. Amuse me."

Rayman instantly felt unnerved. The thought crossed his mind that if Razoff was this calm then he knew something about the windows that he did not. The Hunter was up to something. He felt more than saw the cat halt in its progress of pruning to watch the transpiring scene.

"What're ya hiding?"

"Punch the window and find out."

"For all I know it's dangerous."

"And being in my presence isn't?"

Rayman narrowed his eyes into a glare. "You're not intimidating in any way, Hunter."

Razoff calmly met the glare. "Indeed? Neither are you, slave."

That final word was the spark to the fuse as Rayman abruptly spun towards the window and—

XXXX

—Found his pride chaffed somewhat as he found himself once again being carried in Razoff's arms down towards the cellar. He was completely paralysed. His golden hair was tinged black at the tips, occasionally releasing a spark or two between the strands. It seemed the windows had some sort of electrical barrier that Razoff could activate at will.

"Stop scowling at the ceiling, boy. I was going to punish you for talking to me in such a manner, but I knew this would be punishment enough. Haven't you had enough problems for one day? As I said, you're stubbornness will be your downfall."

Rayman coughed a single puff of black smoke, "G-Git."

XXXX

On opening large eyes in the early dawn, Rayman groaned and rubbed them tiredly, after last night he had had trouble sleeping and had gotten barely two hours of rest. On sitting up in his bed, he realised that he now had to replace all of the light bulbs because he did not have time yesterday. Groaning again, he put his head in his hands and tried to snap his brain out of its drossy state.

Vincent suddenly came in through the cellar door, and at spotting him asked gently, "Bad night?"

"Yeah," Rayman mumbled. You havenoidea...

The cream one fell back onto his pillow with his eyes closed, putting a hand up when stray coughs escaped him. When he felt a hand hesitantly tap his chest, he cracked an eye open to see Vincent looking at his hood tassels rather than looking directly into his eyes.

"Master Razoff wants you up and working immediately, I am sorry."

Vincent had said it so unhappily, as if it was his fault. Rayman smiled kindly at him and stiffly sat back up.

"Hey, it's not your fault. I don't want ya blaming yourself for that jerks nasty nature," He grinned, and Vincent felt his mouth twitch into a small, yet empty smile.

Rayman noticed that he did give tiny smiles occasionally, but there was no true feeling behind them every time. If it was not a hollow smile it was no expression at all, and he was beginning to wonder if it was Razoff that had done this to the poor guy. I hate that jerk!He mentally seethed whilst in reality he physically frowned.

Vincent blinked naively at the sudden frown that had appeared on his partners face. But when Rayman snapped back to reality he just smiled a beaming smile back at Vincent.

At that moment footsteps could be heard descending the cellar steps and Rayman growled when Razoff suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking as straight and stuck up as ever.

At seeing the reaction of his new slave due to his presence, Razoff could tell that he was nowhere near breaking the boy, in fact he had a strong feeling that he never would. However, that did not mean he was not going to have a good stab at it. However, he was not going to go as far as yesterday...if he could it of course. His goal was to tame the lad—not kill him.

Razoff's eyes drifted to Vincent staring at the floor nervously, Vincent's spirit was easy to break because of his overall gentle personality, but looking at this other I realise it will be immensely tougher to break his spirit because of his cocky and carefree nature. That and he's a stubborn mule, Razoff concluded his thoughts with a raised eyebrow as Rayman snorted, then closed his eyes, and then looked away in an action that clearly shouted 'defiance' at its finest.

"Hop to it boy, you know your job," Razoff taunted with his hands behind his back, watching as Rayman opened one eye to glower back at him.

"No, not until I've eaten. I haven't eaten for days."

The new slave was now fully facing the Hunter with blazing eyes glaring. Vincent began to sweat nervously at such disobedience; he was going to get hit for sure.

"I told you yesterday, stupid boy, that the faster you get the jobs done the faster you can eat. Notice the 's' in 'jobs,' you only did one yesterday," The Hunter argued, beginning to eerily approach Rayman who remained sitting up in bed glaring daggers. Razoff then leaned forward slowly so that their faces were as close as possible before saying warningly, "Understand, boy?"

Challengingly staring into the Hunters' eyes like a riled lion, Rayman snorted, bored, "Whatever."

A bead of sweat dripped down Vincent's forehead. His eyes widened and he audibly gasped. His heart was racing as Razoff struck Rayman. It was a hard punch across the face, one that terribly echoed throughout the cellar. It pierced the tense silence, made it tenser. Everything became deadly still. The very air itself seemed to choke.

Rayman had his eyes shut with his head turned to the side from the force of the strike. Without even batting an eyelid he turned straight back to the Hunter with an even fiercer glare. Razoff was taken aback by the pure challenge swirling in those orbs. The captor smiled, this one was truly going to test him and it would be one of his highest trophies if he did tame him.

"I'm not sure if you've been told, but you call me 'Master Razoff,'" Razoff patiently informed as he stood straight back up and watched as a scarlet tinge started to appear on the victim's cheek. "So I will ask you again. Do you understand, boy?"

Growling, Rayman felt his soul burst into a fiery rage; he would never call Razoff 'Master'—never. He glanced at Vincent to his left and felt his fire dampen a little. Vincent was staring at him pleadingly, pleading him to just say that venomous word because he did not want to see him get hurt further. Seeing that look reminded him of what his companion had said before.

"You could help me. So if not for him...then do it for me."

You could help me.

Only for Vincent, He thought dejectedly as he moved his eyes to look once again dead-on into Razoff's expecting gaze.

"Yes...Master Razoff," Was the hiss through gritted teeth, the words like poison in his mouth. As soon as he had said them he felt himself grimace in disgust and another chip cracked off his pride.

"Oh, I didn't quite hear you. I am afraid you will have to speak up."

Razoff smirked evilly at seeing Rayman's eyes spark with fury. It was as if a volatile spark had lit a bomb fuse—a deadly one.

"I said yes Master Razoff, YOU COMPLETE UTTER ARSE!"

Not expecting the sudden outburst Vincent jumped. His heart was pounding. He instantly looked away. Another sound of flesh against flesh filled the room. Rayman had been hit again in the exact same spot.