A/N : Apologies for the long wait, but the Rise of Rocket is back!
James' POV:
I was still giggling at Sky as I picked her up and we headed to the foyer, but I quickly sobered up when I thought of the scrap of paper still sat in my pocket. 'What on Earth was I thinking?!' I chided myself, 'Why didn't I give this note to Inspector Looker? This could help him find the professor – and in turn my parents!' But really, I knew why I hadn't given that paper to the Looker. 'I wonder…' I thought absentmindedly, 'If it was him, Officer Jenny or Mary who lied to us? But then again, why would any of them lie? Its not like he knows I was there that night…'
The room was darker than Darkrai and quieter than silence. The only decoration was a single chair, chained to the centre of the room. A man in his mid thirties was strapped to it, thick ropes binding his hands behind his back. Large leather straps were binding his legs to the legs of the chair, which were still dripping from the salt water that had been sloshed over the man less than an hour ago. A red strip of cloth was tied tightly round his head as a gag. His chin was resting on his chest and his eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. He'd quickly learnt that to avoid more pain he couldn't be caught unawares. A door in the corner creaked open and light flooded into the room, temporarily blinding the man. A short, sharp laugh echoed around the steel cube as the blinding brightness from the door outlined a figure, his Mean Look alighting upon the man in the chair. As he walked into the room and pushed the door closed, gentle lights began to glow from the roof. The prisoner lifted his head slightly, so as to stare his captor in the eye.
"Ah. My favorite prisoner." The older man sighed. "You know Augustine, I really hoped you'd come around and help us. Clearly that hasn't been the case." He continued.
The captive pushed franticly against the gag with his tongue, the ferocity in his eyes clearly betraying what he'd like to do once he got his hands on his captor.
The older man rolled his eyes as his prisoner foamed at the mouth as he tried to talk.
"Oh, can you not speak, Augustine?" he asked, his words as smooth as honey to the ear and as easy to swallow as thorns. Delving a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small pocket knife, slipping the blade out of its casing. Augustine visibly recoiled at the sight of his reflection in the blade – his dark hair unruly and wet, his clothes tattered and torn, messy hair sprouting from his chin. Regaining curiosity he peered at the smooth, shiny blade once more. Two dull grey, almost lifeless grey orbs peered back at him, all the fight and desire to go on drained. Augustine let his head hang low, as the full realization of how bad his situation was hit him in the gut. Taking advantage of his captives state, the older man leaned forwards and sliced straight through the gag that had been pushing into Augustine's mouth. As the red cloth fell to the ground, air began seeping in between the dry, colourless lips of the captive, shaking him out of his despair. Slowly he raised his eyes and stared his captor in the eyes, a strange mixture of feelings displayed on his face.
"Why?" croaked Augustine, his quiet voice slipping out from between his dry, cracked lips.
Ignoring his question, the older man went on to slice through the ropes and leather that still bound Augustine, until the prisoner was free to get up and walk around – which he did gladly.
"Now then," the older man continued, gesturing to the door he'd opened whilst Augustine was testing that he could still stand on his legs, "It's time we gave you a tour of this place."
"And here, Augustine, is where you'll carry out your work for me."
Reaching out Augustine wrapped his fingers around the handle of the door to his soon-to-be office. As he swung the door open he was greeted by an extensive laboratory, large machines lining the walls already whirring, the floor had been freshly shined and the light of the sun streamed in through the large double windows, bouncing off the dark black floor. The scent of science drifted pleasantly into his nostrils, reminding him of home.
"Of course you'd have as many helpers and resources as you need," Augustine's captor continued, "Oh and this." Augustine turned around to see his kidnapper holding up a fresh lab coat, crisp and as white as snow, and an exact copy of the one that had been torn of him by those brutes that captured him. Eagerly he ran forward and snatched the coat from his 'new boss'. Slipping it on, he found that it fit perfectly; pushing his hands down into the pockets he discovered a few syringes that would be very useful for his work here.
"And," continued his boss, "That's not even the best part!" with a smile, he led Augustine across the floor to the double windows. "Look" was all he said.
Tears began to form in Augustine's eyes. "The town where I was born." He croaked out.
"Yes, I thought you'd like a nice view whilst you work. And maybe, if you work hard, I might make you Mayor when I take over the world."
A small smile spread over Augustine's face as he turned to his new boss. "Thank you very much for the view."
His captor smiled and turned back to look out through the window, he'd done it.
"But I'm afraid it's going to be the last one you ever see!" Augustine continued, rage permeating his words as he pulled the needle from his pocket and launched himself at his tormentor, arm outstretched so as to hit him in the face.
Swift as can be, his captor slid to the side and drew his pocketknife once more. As Augustine fell past him, the blade caught his arm, tearing through the soft fabric of the lab coat and biting the skin. Sirens blared as armed grunts came bursting through the door of the lab.
"You fool!" the older man yelled in the face of his prisoner, "We could've worked together, you wouldn't have suffered any more! And now look at what you've made me do! You've made me get me knife all dirty with your blood!" Taking a deep breath he turned to head towards the door. "Knock him out!" he commanded the grunts harshly, "Then when he comes round he'll find out why he should've accepted my offer!"
Ten grunts surrounded Augustine, a syringe filled with anesthetic at the ready.
"YOU'RE EVIL!" He screamed, "YOU WILL BE TOPPLED FROM YOUR PRECARIOUS PERCH GIOVANNI! BUT YOU ARE TOO MAD TO CARE!" Finally the grunts knocked him out and dragged him out of the room.
"I'm not evil…" Giovanni whispered into the silence that was left…
"…I'm oh so much worse."