Haroud made his way through the cave system in sure, long strides, momentum and purpose keeping him tirelessly pursuing every bend in the tunnels, each sidetrack, each dead end and hidden passageway, past cobwebbed rock formations and dripping, fecal pools of cave damp. The boy's cell could only be found in this way, a tactical decision on Haroud's part, though he gave Abis, naturally, the credit for the idea.
When Aladdin's friends figured out what happened, and they came trumpeting to his rescue, at least by the time they found Aladdin, Haroud and Abis Mal would have plenty of time to make their move. If, he sighed, Abis Mal could decide what that move was. But no, his expression hardened. He knew what had to be done, and he was just the man to do it. He stopped, as the stone ahead became darker and slicker, to compel his way into a cramped, rotted little cabinet in the wall, held by the jagged embrace of stone. Dust flew as he reached inside for a couple essentials, tucking them into his belt before continuing on his way.
Aladdin had clearly not been expecting the door to open when Haroud forced it wide with a sharp push; it was clear in the way his head jerked up and his eyes widened. By this way, Haroud had gained his first victory, for he had caught Aladdin off guard. This was his first objective, namely to pull the boy from what was comfortable, from what was normal. That, once accomplished through dedication on Haroud's part, would set the stage for further discipline.
It was disconcerting, grating even, to Haroud when he observed for himself how fast and natural Aladdin snapped back to himself, recovering from a loss of cool with uncommon ease, a trait of the confident, privileged in that way. The vibrant youth grinned audaciously, smiling eyes taking Haroud in with a complete lack of concern.
"What, no Abis?" he quipped.
Haroud felt his fingers clench automatically, as if tightening around a protesting throat in absolute conviction, but he withheld himself. He was very proud at his immaculate ability to retain his cool, and would do so now, no matter his anger. It would be hard, however, if Aladdin insisted on baiting him with that mouth of his…
"It would be to your best interest, boy, to restrain your tongue."
He said this coolly, casually, as he shut the door behind him, and for a moment, all was cast in dark. As Haroud smoothly went for the taper and flint brought with him, a smirk spread on his face as his sharp ears picked up the minute signs the dark bothered Aladdin, that is; the tightened breath, and the little worried shifts of his feet. Good. Let it bother him and more.
"What are you doing there, Haroud?" It was a nervous front, a laugh, trying to keep casual himself. His name sounded unnatural on Aladdin's lips. Common. Low. A joke. He hated it among other things. He gave Aladdin no answer
The quick strike of the match and light reappeared, a flickered, yellow light from a small, simple candle. Haroud, ignoring Aladdin's third attempt at goading him into conversation, ("Ah, mood lighting" another failed attempt at self-levity. If he only knew what came for him soon.), strode to one corner of the cell and jammed the candle's end quite snugly into the wall. The light changed, grew dinger, less brilliant with it caved between so solemn of stone and damp.
Haroud looked back to Aladdin for a moment. He sat just as Abis and Haroud had left him. Looking back, Haroud was pleased to find that there choice of restraint suit his purpose perfectly without even intending too. At the ceiling above Aladdin's head was a rusted, old bracket, through which a long chain was looped through, a chain that on one end was connected to the manacles on Aladdin's wrists, at the other, the extra length pooled on the ground. It kept Aladdin's arms above his head, but he wasn't too uncomfortable, Haroud decided. No, he could still sit on the floor with his legs bent in front of him due to the slack. Haroud decided to alleviate that problem.
Aladdin cried out in unhappy surprise as Haroud yanked the extra chain length and his wrists were tugged sharply. He scrambled higher on his feet to avoid his hands being pulled from their sockets, and already he could feel the incoming bruises from the strain. Disappointingly, nothing broke, Abis's best man noticed.
"Sheesh, what's your problem anyway?" Aladdin asked, somewhat irritated, as he looked up at Haroud. Still, still too much comfort and confidence in his eyes as they locked with Haroud's, the boy faltering at the intensity there.
He decided to speak, then, perhaps explain how the rest of Aladdin's life would go for him. He doubted he would get the lesson fast enough on his own, and Haroud, though having the patience, didn't have the time.
"From now on, you don't open your mouth unless I specifically address your sorry carcass. Is that clear? I don't want to hear that idiocy spill from you more than I have to."
Aladdin didn't respond right away, though it was clear he was shocked as anything by the agape part in his lips and his widened eyes. Then came the indignation, the color in his cheeks, and the black flash of defiance in his eyes.
"Who do you think you are? Look, I don't know what you're getting at but-"
The rest of his retort was lost in a strained gasp as Haroud's knee swiftly found the hollow of his abdomen, imbedding there with ferocity. His body folded around it, and drew up when Haroud withdrew his knee. Aladdin's coughs filled the cell momentarily, cursing under his breath. Idly, Haroud wondered if perhaps the damp would turn that cough into something deadly. At any rate, he wasn't about to allow him proper recovery time, and grabbed a handful of black, thick hair, wrenching it tight, tilting it back to further complicate Aladdin's breathing as his neck was bent backwards.
"Apparently," Haroud intoned into Aladdin's twisted countenance, " I did not make myself clear enough. Or perhaps you're just stupid." He smiled for a moment, cruelly, enjoying his sway and leverage. Aladdin glared angrily through the grimace on his face. "Now, are you going speak again without my permission?"
All elements of levity or humor had abandoned Aladdin as he set his jaw and said back heatedly.
"You can't tell me what to do."
A simple statement, a typical, youthful lash against proper authority. And it only required simple chastisement, Haroud reasoned.
"Oh but I can." He said self assuredly as he wrapped his hand around Aladdin's throat, setting him firmly back against the wall as he punctuated each of his following words with another knee to his stomach.
"Shut."
Aladdin's shout of pain and anger were distorted muffled by the hand on his throat. He instinctively brought his leg up to block the next, but Haroud simply pinned it down with his hand.
"Up."
His next hit grazed a bone; at least that's what it felt like, meeting with the barrier of Aladdin's skin and muscle. A strained combination of a wheeze and gag shot up from Aladdin's throat, as his eyes opened impossibly wide….