Ch. 08: Evasive Protocol
Red water. For the next couple days—if I can still measure time accurately—I know nothing but red water. It is inescapable, it is everywhere and it is everything. It is what forces anxiety to absorb into my skin and steer my mind into a sort of madness that is numbing. When they hose me, bits of me are left circling the drain in the corner. When they electrocute me, every spastic movement leads me into a vulnerable state of mind that cripples my body. A state of mind near the irreversible dimension of my consciousness in which they can slip their greedy fingers into and do as they please. But I won't allow them to progress any further than they already have. As an odd mean of regaining my composure, I remind myself that I've been through far worse tortures in the past. Some without knowing I was being tortured. I have to focus. St—
Stop it! Don't think his name, don't think of his face, don't think about him at all! Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it!
I have to focus, have to focus, have to focus.
Have to focus.
Make
It
Stop
Give in.
I shake my head roughly to regain myself. Cold scraps of someone's breakfast lay out on my lap and down my legs. Maggot-infested meat with molding beads of rice stuck to the bottom cling to my feet. It's been a long while since I was allowed food or any form of nourishment, and the hunger is starting to settle in a steady, tingling throb. Every pump of my heart is a jolt against my bony chest, taking me by utter, aching surprise. Another energy-thieving spout of electricity comes through the metal collar, attacking every inch of my body beyond mercy even through the shadow buff I set. In about fifteen second, it stops. Like a shock collar stealing the pride of an animal, my magic energy fluctuates before draining near zero. My teeth remain clenched as I catch my breath from the agony inflicted.
I caught myself once praying for some way to defend myself from these torments. I begged the Lord to spare another session of fire hosing and electrocution. I wanted it all to stop, I wanted to be set free and start forgetting about this place. I yearned to be away from this pain. But I never asked to be killed. No matter how many bones they break or how many scars they leave on my skin and mind, I will not die here. No matter how my mind twists and how my shadow churns in my soul, I will not die here. And I sure as hell will not break. I just have to wait for an opportunity. But for now, all I can do is sit here in restless anticipation for the next conditioning and stare at the ceiling. All I can do is wonder if the sun is up or if it resting, if my buddy is okay, if my brother's heard about what happened to me. "…Why?" I ask in a gurgling voice, too worn and water-beaten to move my head, to move my eyes. "Why're you doing this? I still ain't giving you shit."
"For the greater good." Though these words are of my deterioration, they serve me a great deal of focus. The reason I am where I am and the decision I made back in Magnolia. I need to return for my girlfriend, for my brother, and my buddy. "All we need is the name of your partner."
"Need is a strong…strong word," I suck in some air and release it slowly. "For example: I need you all to screw off before I just—"
More water comes crashing directly into my sinuses for a good three seconds. Or more—God, I don't know. When it stops, my body collapses to the floor again as a series of violent coughs rip from my throat. "He's screwing with us," someone mutters in the other room. A woman whispers something to him. I stare in the direction of their scents. "What do you mean it's being interrupted?"
Arian's crony come over and smacks me with the force of a punch. I spit out a swish of blood by his shoe. He snatches my hair and rams my face in it, holding my other cuffed hand behind my back. The leather on the shoe savors gutter water and mud. The technicians come in and inspect the collar. She's a dull-looking woman with thick frames digging in the bridge of her nose. Brown hair and eyes that gives her pale complexion a ghostly hue. She flinches when we meet eyes and tentatively focuses in the wires. "Everything seems fine, but for some reason," she adjusts her glasses, "his neural transmitter isn't displayed on the screen." I give a sharp jerk against the man's hold when my shoulder starts aching, making her inch back.
The man restraining me turns to her. "So, fix it, Dris."
I take this moment to sink my sharp teeth into his ankle, breaking cloth and skin. Warm blood fills my mouth and, as he springs back in defense with a wail, I spit it out and almost tear out a chunk of his neck when electricity spikes through me. My body writhes painfully for a few long seconds. I'm disoriented and almost suffocating on my back, staring at the ceiling lamp. "Ow," I choke. "Motherfu—"
His black-gloved hand snatches my face, fingers digging into my jaw. "It's probably got some magic trick up his sleeve." He's right in my face, but I watch his other hand. It outstretches to another guard by a rolling table of rusted tools. My heart speeds up in rhythm. A pair of pliers is placed in palm and he smirks at me. "We'll just have to rip his teeth out till he breaks." I jerk my head away, but he grabs it again and pries open my mouth by jamming his fingers into my cheeks. No matter how I fight and twist around, his weight settles on top of my chest, crushing and demobilizing. I paw at his face in an attempt to get to his throat, so he plants his boot on my wrist and holds it to the floor. When he twists it to an unnatural angle, jerking it, I scream out at the break. "Now the beast's got some life in him!" The pliers grip my first premolar on the right and starts yanking. Pain fills every crevice of my body. My hands ball into fists so tight to form red crescent moons in my palms, casting away the blood in my knuckles. My vision blurs with water, but all I want to do is kill him. Kill them all.
An unfamiliar stifled whimper escapes my dried throat when it gives. Blood pools my tongue and spills from the side of my mouth. I choke, each cough spewing red liquid. The guard grimaces and wipes the red from his face. "Hurts, doesn't it?" I close my eyes when I feel the metal jaws around my left wisdom tooth. "Keep screaming like a good little monster."
But then Arian, brushing the man off me with a hand, kneels down dangerously close to my face. I frown. "Such a rude scowl." I exhaustively let my head roll to the side and close my eyes against the pain. "I know I taught you to always respect your host."
"I refuse to give out unearned respect." They've kept me up for God knows how long without food. Just question after beating after question after beating after beating and beating and beating. A dreadful, yet reassuring routine that I'm the one to endure. For the greater good. For the greater good, when the time is right, I will make my move to evade him once more. And this time, I'll disappear permanently.
"Get him up," Arian orders.
The manacles unlock and fall to the floor with rattling bangs. My wrists and ankles are red and raw. Before I can try to move, I'm hoisted up by the arms and dragged along after him. My head hangs too low to know where we're going, and at the moment, I couldn't care less. I just can't stand one more minute in that wet room. Distant hoots and howls echo as we journey into this blood-reeking place. Blood, alcohol, and defecation and urine. I'm shivering, both from the water and agony. Consternation suddenly collides with me when I see the inmates here. Their faces…disfigured, discolored, dismembered. Sting always scolds me for my staring habit and I know it's rude; but right now, I can't tear my eyes from theirs. My stare darts from a man whose lips have the texture of molding bread to a woman with a decomposing vestigial twin sprouting from her neck. I almost leap over the railing when a pair of sallow, bruised hands reach towards me, banging on the iron bars. Eyes imploring for the help I fail to provide.
What…is this…?
I'm thrown into a dirty, empty cell and locked in behind a sliding iron fence. The three men leave muttering under their breaths and disappear into the dimmed building full of broken voices. I crawl over to the door and grip one of the bars, flinching back when I get shocked. A red rod sears across my blistered palm. I can hear people crying in the stories above and screaming bloody murder in the bungalows below. I squeeze into the corner and sit, holding my stinging hand to my chest the best I can with my other arm swollen up from being kicked. Sitting around in someone else's waste beats having a crowd hovering over me with wires and tools, though. With my tongue, I force out the loose tooth and spit it out with more blood.
The stone floor is layered with sludge and bugs. The air is tense, thin, and as cold and unforgiving as the shadow inside me.
No. I can't start thinking about that.
I turn my attention from the door to the walls that are scratched-up and vandalized from past inmates. I squint at some of the graffiti. Tally marks, Bible verses, pleas for help. Hand-drawn pictures, too, of animals they've never seen, of the sun that seems so distant. The one in the far left corner catches my attention. A sketch of a baby with chalked-in hair and wide eyes that dive right through me. It's titled: soon.
##
I've figured out why Arian sent me to waste away in the cell. He wants to see how long it takes for the others to tears me apart. He wants to witness me succumb to madness in the compact isolation of the cell. Once word got around that I'm a dragon-slayer, the reason Arian had abducted the other people misfortunate enough to be locked up here, there's been crowds of yelling and glaring through the jail. Arms with clawed hands reaching through my cell's bars for my neck. Cursing and death threats hurling over my head. I'm proficient in the skill of keeping a stoic face and ignoring people, but ever-so-often someone will raise a startle out of me.
If Arian doesn't kill me, surely they will.
The collar was left around my throat to force my magic energy from my body to the generator. It flares up every few hours—at least five to ten times a day—casting involuntary shadows from my body to strike out the lights and stain the dilapidated walls before fading to a mist. I would be lying if I said that I'm growing accustomed to the electrocuting. It only gets worse every time around. Just as I neared sleep last night, I was shocked into a giddy that left me on my face without even remembering how I got there.
But at least I can have my own mind now.
As I remain here, a rut in the cement floor, wasting away in my own being, under a false mask of prideful nonchalance, it dawns on me that even though we worked things out as far as the situation with Lucy goes, Gajeel and I are still mountain descents apart. The amends I must make, the closure I idly crave, is just a myth not worth uncovering in his eyes. The wedge I formed between us all those years ago only swells every time I fail to confront him. I've said it all, but I haven't done anything. Shrugging it off and lying to myself that the past is the past has done nothing but confuse and anger me. I can't say what he thinks of me other than I'm just some brat with an attitude problem, but I can say this—he can't be wrong to resent me. In the trenches of my own pride and perhaps undaunted greed I find a sanguine undertow that guides me to believe that he and I just might be able to work things out. That maybe we can actually call ourselves brothers without hesitation. In this life I find that I'm constantly chasing and searching for people, for things that sometimes seem intangible and far-fetched. If being the ambitious pursuer is required to indulge in a life gravid of family and love, then so be it. I'll chase those people to the end of the world if I have to.
But in another, more desolate section of my mentality, the thought of taking such a huge risk for the sake of my own happiness sounds far less appeasing. What if I mindlessly pursue with all the power in my soul only to get it all wrong and end up disappointed? What kind of life would I lead if I were to be that careless?
Listen to my mind drift…
I roll on my back and let the pain settle in my bones, making them seem brittle and hollow. Another shock jolts my head to the side, a sharp pain in my neck. I pry at the space between the collar and my sweaty neck to allow more oxygen to enter my system. Gratefully surprised it hasn't been set off by my touch. My neck aches, but I'm grateful to be able to sustain the small shadow barrier I placed between the conductive metal and my skin. If I hadn't placed it, I would have fallen insane by now, I'm sure.
~Break it.~
I drop my hand and sit up, shooting a glance in all directions. "Ah, damn."
~I told you I'd never leave you, Rogue. Why did you ignore me before?~ I practically wince at its chilling, stale breath on the base of my neck. I react too late to form a defense against the odd emotions of pleasure and trepidation its company presents. Black takes over the cell. My back slams against the wall with great impact, pain shooting through my head as it bangs into the stone. ~You better have one hell of a good reason for turning me away in a place like this!~
"Get off me!" I can feel its grimy fingertips jamming into my arms, forming bruises. Soon it materializes as a mass of oozing black and I succumb to its unearthly strength that pins me against the wall. "Get—"
To shut me up, it jerks me back into the wall. I bite my tongue on impact and taste blood immediately. ~How could you let them treat you like that? You're too weak to fight now. But with me…~ Its long, frigid fingers slither down my cheek, trying to seduce me into letting go. I freeze. I freeze because its touch is almost too tempting, exciting every part of my body to submit to its hands. An obedient servant to its call. ~…You and I together, Rogue, we can't lose.~
"Stop…! Get away from me!" I blurt out, turning my head. "I don't need you to get out of he-re—!" All the oxygen supply in my lungs drains out when it snatches my throat and holds my head to the wall. The grip is undeniably strong and vacant of mercy. In the corners of my vision are black trims that lurk, like growing moss, to the center. My body nearly submits to suffocation when the grip loosens. I land on my face on the floor, gasping for breath, coughing.
~Stupid fool. You think you alone are enough? You won't survive.~ A guttural cackle reverberates from the darkness around and soon vanishes without a trace. I can't settle on what's more terrifying, having that thing intertwined with my soul or knowing it is taking refuge in some foreign area. It could be anywhere while simultaneously residing like a virus inside me. Having a free-range monster in a compact prison isn't exactly what I planned for. But did I really plan any of this?
I place my hand over my chest as if to physically steady its rate. Or to check if it's still beating. I shut my mouth to quiet my panicked breathing and then my eyes to calm my hectic mind. I count in my head with every inhale, exhale. My heart slows within another hour. It doesn't matter how much magic energy they steal from my veins. It doesn't matter how my body deteriorates. There will always be another stash to sustain that monster inside me. I keep counting. Suddenly, there's a rumble in the earth. I stare at the wall, trying to debunk it as my imagination. Or some prisoner bashing his head in. It happens again, this time with more force. Chains jingling, I crawl over to the wall where it seems to be coming from, leaning my ear on the brick. The next bang forms hairline cracks in the wall, making me jump. With my finger, I trace the fractures to the upper right corner. Familiar scents. And barrels of magic energy. I push myself off the wall, "Shitshitshit!" and cover my head in the farthest end of the cell just as the wall is busted. Debris in the air clouds fragmentations of orange and yellow that spill in the cell, cascading with the grayness. I wipe dirt from my eyes and squint. Surprised, praising God, and a bit fearful, I gape at the familiar silhouette in the blinding sunlight. "Gajeel?"
I stare at him, dumbfounded that he's actually here to notice he's storming towards me. His shadow washing over me like a tidal wave. "Are you stupid, Ryos?" He snatches me by the arm and makes me stand before him. "Giving yourself up like that to a notorious dragon-slayer hunter?"
I shrivel into myself, ducking my head. "It was more of a substitution, actually—"
He slams me against the wall, sparking each of my injuries to roar. "Are you stupid?!"
I frown. "He was after Wendy! I wasn't going to just sit around and let him take her!"
"It ain't about that!"
"Then what?"
We fall into a deep silence as Laxus steps through the gash in the wall. We exchange looks, and then he nods. "Let's move. There're guards on the way." Lightning sparks off his fists that he squeezes tighter when he catches me staring. "Just this time, Sabertooth." He points at me as he says this.
I nod and shake myself free of Gajeel's death grip. "I owe you. Thank you both—"
"Not until we get you out. Save the tears."
"Wait," Gajeel says. I wheel around just in time for him to take a huge bite out of the collar around my neck.
I shove him away and place a hand where his sharp tooth pierced the skin. "Are you crazy?! Don't bite at my neck, you damn psychopath!"
"What're you belly-achin' about now? It's just a scratch."
"Don't swallow that!" I smack him across the face and watch the gnawed-up collar hit the ground. "There's a remote to control it."
"Yeah? And?"
"You want to be pissing blood for the next year?"
Laxus shoots a blast of lightning at it, making it disintegrate to black ash. "For once you say something logical." I shoot him a look.
"Whatever," Gajeel rolls his eyes. "C'mon!" His huge hand plants on the back of my neck and tosses me over his shoulder. "Jeez, you reek—"
"I can run, damn it! Put me down!" I push off his back once before fatigue seizes my muscles. Gajeel ignores me and starts running through the holes he made from hall to hall. My stomach churns from the rattling and rough motions, but now isn't the time to be complaining. Not until I see numerous pale faces staring at us from the other cells, still trapped behind the bars. What's going to happen to them now?
A pit of dread in my gut pulls me in when Gajeel says, "We're jumping."
I look over my shoulder to see a deep, black hole with no signs of the ground. Fear swallows me whole and I already feel nauseous. "Uh, what the hell? No."
"We don't have a choice," Laxus says, preparing to jump, eyes set on the hole. "Escape plans normally don't involve the front door."
I try pushing off my brother's back again. "No, no, no! Hell no!"
"Can it," Gajeel orders, pressing my body to his shoulder harder. I can hear a smile in his voice. "Man up, Ryos!"
"NO!" He jumps and my stomach lifts to my throat.
"Hey, quit clawing at my face! I can't see! Ryos!" Gajeel hollers over the wind, uncaring that his hair lashing my face isn't helping at all. I compress myself closer to his body, not as comfort, but to choke him as a small act of revenge. We land with a bang. Gajeel drops me without a second thought and steps over me, taking off running away from the ear-splitting siren that hollers after us. I bounce and rub the soreness from my rear-side. "You could've taken those guys out, Laxus!"
"You're the one that resorted to crashing holes in the place!" Laxus defends. I can start to feel the effects of malnourishment eating away at my muscles as we run. My feet trip over each other and I end up sprawled on my face.
"We didn't have time for stealth! And pick up your feet, pipsqueak!" I get to my feet and thrust forth all the strength in me to keep up with them. My legs scream for mercy, the mercy I cannot afford to grant while we have the entire prison on the lookout for three dragons.
"But we do for a damn wild goose chase?!"
"Faster entry, faster escape!"
"More like desperate escape!"
"It all worked out—"
"Barely!"
"Just shut up and run!"
"Wait!" I jam my heels in the ground to stop. They both share the same annoyed grimace at me, bringing their stride and argument to a sharp pause. "We can't leave yet." I look back at the high stone-matted walls, the foggy spotlights that sway side to side, and the dark, armed figures spewing from the doors, the barks of hungry dogs invading my ears. "There are more people inside."
"No, Ryos. Don't start," Gajeel reprimands, taking a step toward me as I turn halfway to him. "We can't go back there right now. You can't see that?" He points outwardly at the prison. "That's not a playhouse! We'll be back later."
"When?!" I argue in a low voice, frowning unblinkingly at him. He says nothing, so I face him fully. "If not now, then when?"
Laxus steps up, dangerously close, and although I can never size up to him, I stand still and narrow my eyes. He may look stronger, but I am stronger. "Look, Gramps said right now you're top priority. Don't make things complicated. Gajeel's right."
I toss an arm back, violently. "They are torturing innocent people in there, trying to gather information on dragon-slayers like us," I snap. "And you just want to sit here and let that happen?!"
"Here we go with the tantrum…" Gajeel rolls his eyes. "Hey, little tike. C'mon. Isolated prisons are a no-go."
"How can you two turn your backs on them?" I ask, dumbfounded. "God. Are you serious?!"
"We're not turning our backs," Laxus retracts. "If there weren't flurries of guards coming after us, sure we would go back and help. But that's not the case."
"If you want to go back to Fairy Tail so badly, then go. I'm not stopping you."
Gajeel growls, stepping in front of Laxus. "You're not going back there. Look at yourself." I roll my eyes. "You can barely stand."
"I don't care. Those people need to get out of there," I try to keep my voice calm. "Someone has to help them. Isn't that what mages are for, to protect those who can't protect themselves? We're dragons. If anyone can do it—"
"No." Gajeel lets out a long, considering sigh. His eyes read thousands of emotions ranging from disappointment to uncertainty and ending with stubbornness. "Don't make me carry you."
I grit my teeth. "I'll bite your hand off."
"Look behind you!" Gajeel storms over and snatches my face in his hand, roughly directing it to the rushing crowd in the distance. "Count how many bodies we'd have to bust through, Ryos. How many of those anti-magic lacrima darts do you think we can get poked with before we'd fall? From the looks of you, not much. You're drained of energy, your elbow's turning colors, and you've clearly taken more blows to the head than healthy. You're in no condition to fight! Does that sound like a battle in our favor?" He lets go of my face and walks ahead. "We're going back to Fairy Tail, and this small talk is over."
When I was taken under Gajeel's care years ago, he knew me only as the shadow dragon's runt who could not handle killing a fish for food, even if it meant I'd starve. I was fragile and utterly terrified of what I did not take pleasure in. So, naturally, I did not prove myself to be a self-reliant person. But that was years ago, and he can't treat me like a child anymore. My cheeks burn, but I stand with two firm feet and my head high, facing him with a countenance of newfound assertiveness. "No."
Gajeel wheels around immediately with fury in his piercing predator eyes. "'No,' huh?"
I bite back trepidation and force it down my throat, taking a deep breath and maintaining a steady voice. "I'm going back to help. I don't care much for what you have to say about your convenience. I don't care about what Master Makarov said to you two about making sure I'm back and out of danger's way. He's not my master. And you can come back for them another time—I'm not at all shaming you for that—but as a mage and as a man, I have to do something for them." Arian's bloodthirst, his malicious methods of studying, it's all because of me. I won't fight him, but I can't let those people continue being tortured in my place. My palms grow clammy when I clench them into quivering fists. "So, go back. I'll be fine—"
"Why do you always do this?!" Laxus groans when Gajeel hollers this at me. "I already told you: our mission is you, our top priority is you, and our reason for being all the way out here is you! That's it!" My brother makes valid arguments, and I understand what it is he's trying to say. But I can be equally stubborn, so I frown and lock my eyes with his. "You want to know the smart thing to do?"
"Don't you dare lecture me!"
"Since you clearly have no clue, I'll tell you. YOU ARE OUR MISSION!" His voice elevates and a startle rips from my chest. I try to avoid his eyes, but he snatches my shoulders and rattles me. I gasp. "And you are coming back to the guild! Understand, Ryos?!" I stare at him under the hair in my eyes. He glances to the side at Laxus, who watches as if he's the one getting yelled at. "We're done here." He lets go of me and starts walking.
Against my better knowledge, I… I can't just give up. "I don't care what your mission is—"
Gajeel stops, rolling his neck out. "And I said we're done. Get over it."
I step towards him, past Laxus, and get in his face, even as he towers over me. "I am not leaving here until every last one of those men and women are safe." To further my point, I make sure he can see my sharp teeth as I speak. "Nothing you say can change my mind. So, you can come with me or stay the hell out of my way." Leaping over the part of me that would gladly fall into step behind him, I shove my shoulder past him. But before I can make one step towards the prison, Gajeel snatches the easiest thing on me to grab—my hair—and rams his fist in my face. I see green first, then red, and finally black darker than pitch.
The last thing I see is him glowering over me with his hands on his hips before the black returns. "Child." Just like that…tension shows its face again.
