As the only place of importance between the two small-time train stations, the rendezvous point was a large warehouse that had been abandoned for years. It was stationed just past the tracks Dietfried had used many times to go to and return from Jefferies' house in his youth. The building was perched on a narrow strip of land that ended as quickly as it started, merely a mound of earth and rock and grass that stretched a mere sixteen furlongs. It rose up out of the surrounding water, with no way to get to it save the train, walking the tracks, or by a boat ride followed by a long, steep hike up to the flatland that cradled the building. Dietfried had never been inside, but he had some idea of what to expect within its walls. His heart was in his stomach, fluttering. Still, his stoic face was as impassive as Gilbert's: a trait their father had instilled in them, and then the Navy and Army had respectfully reinforced.
Dietfried glanced over their ragtag group, his mind on the task ahead as they walked down the tracks toward the warehouse, ears alert for the train. Jefferies was a high ranking officer of the Navy: there would be no easy way out of this situation. The dread that had been wiggling through his innards gave a great twist as Dietfried looked up to realize there were snipers on top of the building, pointed their way as they walked the tracks toward the building. A closer look at the windows revealed that there were other gunmen armed and ready, looking at them through their scopes. They wouldn't even have the chance to fight: they were already prisoners before reaching the rendezvous. A glance shared with Gilbert confirmed that neither of them had a way around this grim, yet tactically sound setup. The only option was to go inside and dare to hope they all made it back out alive.
A man with pale skin, up-tilted grey-green eyes, and a grimly twisted mouth dressed all in black exited the building and approached them, a gun hanging from his shoulder, and the wind whipping his short brown hair. He was lithe and moved with a languorous sway of purpose, his stride whispering of the limberness associated with dancers, acrobats, and assassins. KJ noticed with the stranger's approach that what he'd thought was a sleeveless shirt actually was armor, and it caught the light of the sun to shimmer brightly like ebony scales. He'd never seen such armor before, and found himself thoroughly distracted by...its unique design. The scales moved with the soldier, each breath causing the unusual fabric beneath to expand with his muscles. It took too long for him to realize that the man had been speaking, and longer still to realize that the man was staring back at him. It felt like looking up and meeting the gaze of a leopard preparing to pounce.
KJ mentally replayed the last few moments, and pieced together a generalization of what the soldier had said… with an added flair that suited his own dramatic tastes. 'My master awaits you. Come with me… unless you'd prefer to fall here and now.' He'd trailed off to return KJ's gaze. KJ took a moment to smile slowly, feeling every slow centimeter of his lips curving up until he flashed the bright white of a toothy grin, invoking the imagery of a wolf flashing its ferocity at competition, yet somehow also managing to be charming with flirtatious undertones. The soldier on the receiving side of KJ's smoldering look was left imagining that he'd just invited a dragon into their temporary fortress, and he planned to make everything inside his next conquest. Unnerved, he gave a subtle signal to his men, and felt them move without hesitation in a blur of speed.
A swift glint of silver in the corner of KJ's eyes was all the warning they had. KJ felt a distinct shove to the side, and Dietfried was suddenly there, taking the blow of the tiny projectile that had so quickly overtaken them. KJ was distantly aware that Benedict had deftly avoided a blow, but only to have his face covered with some sort of drugged cloth by a nearby soldier. Benedict struggled like a trapped kitten for a few heartbeats, but succumbed to unconsciousness. his sharp-heeled shoes left behind in the dirt as his attacker headed inside, Benedict's unconscious form in tow. Gilbert dodged one dangerous needle, then another, only to fall prey to the third, which lodged in his chest. He grunted very softly on impact, but fell instantly to hit the ground in a swirl of gravel, his eye closed and body limp. One of the hired hands swept forward and tossed Gil over his shoulder in one practiced movement, barely breaking stride as he tromped toward the building.
Dietfried looked down to where his dart stuck out from his bicep. The sedative coating the tiny missile must have been potent, because his legs gave out from underneath him only moments after impact. KJ grabbed him before his knees buckled, but he only managed to break his friend's fall -turning what would've been a firm splat onto the ground into a haphazard sinking to the earth- before the scaled-soldier wrapped his arms around him from behind, cradling his body close as he covered his mouth and nose with a drugged cloth. KJ struggled, but the arms squeezed tighter, the drug stealing his strength. KJ recognized that he had no way out, and, desperate, KJ let his body go limp before he fully lost consciousness, hoping to retain some lucidity. The next few moments were large, blurry shapes, jerky movements that left him feeling nauseous, and soft voices that floated to him from some distant shore.
Time stretched into a void of blackness, broken momentarily by glimpses of clarity. KJ opened his eyes once to see Dietfried before him with hands tied behind his back. He didn't look good: KJ noted the dark bags beneath his eyes, the scars lining the pale skin of his torso, and his expression… There was a heated ferocity there that could have only been born of a wretched past, and it was all aimed at the tender expression of Jefferies, who crouched before Dietfried with a gentle finger under his chin. "Now, now…," Jefferies said, his deep voice smooth like liquid silk. "What is your answer, Dietfried?" KJ watched Dietfried snarl, and through gritted teeth, he answered: "Do it." KJ's stomach flipped with worry, and he started to reach for them, but firm hands tightened around him, a sharp pain in his neck as more of the wretched drug was forcibly thrust into his body, and the world fell away again.
His next moment of lucidity left him terribly aware of his dry, cracking lips, a burning thirst, and he was sure that he had been out for a long time. He groaned, rolling to his side and curling into a ball as his stomach cramped with the remnants of the drugs. He dry-heaved, then his body broke into hard shakes that left his teeth chattering. He slowly became aware of his surroundings: the cold stone beneath him, the damp, stinking air, and a darkness so thick that he hadn't originally realized he had his eyes open. He moved his legs a bit, noticing an extra weight on his left ankle, but didn't take the energy to investigate. His arms trembled as he pushed himself off the floor into a sitting position, where he waited for the resulting dizziness to pass before he turned his head to meet the gaze of the scaley-armored soldier. The man was crouched like a tiger on the other side of the bars, peering in at him. The weight of his gaze was heavy, and KJ felt those cat-like eyes scan him.
"The amount of the drug you administered could've stopped my heart," KJ advised with the bland indifference of a man conducting a scientific experiment. KJ couldn't make out his features well in the darkness, but he had a sense that the soldier raised his eyebrows at him. "You awaken to discover you'd been captured, drugged, and are being held in an unknown dungeon… and that's the part that you decide to calmly discuss with one of your captors?," the soldier asked incredulously. KJ heard the rustle that probably accompanied a head shake. "You're an interesting one…." His focus sharpened on KJ, and it felt as if the man had no trouble at all seeing him through the thick dark. "What should I call you?"
KJ found the question most interesting. He had not inquired what his name was: rather, he specifically assumed that KJ would not provide his actual name, and therefore automatically asked for what to call him. "You may call me KJ," he answered with caution in his tone. It wasn't enough information to cause him harm, as far as he could tell in his current state. "And you?" There was a tinge of amusement in the voice that returned: "...Mardoc." KJ nodded, then tilted his head. "And why are you here, observing the little fly you've caught in your spider's web, Mardoc?" There was a pause, and he felt Mardoc mirror his head-tilt, a sensation that sent chills up KJ's arms. "I am here because I doubt that we've caught a fly at all: just another spider preparing to take over our hard-won web."
KJ made a sound of disbelief. "Oh, I hardly believe that you plan to remain just outside of my prison the entire time I am to be held here. Not with all that web to keep shiny and beneath the nose of the other… food." The other man chuckled: a dark sound that gave KJ the shivers as it wrapped around him, thicker than the shadows… he just wasn't sure if it was the thrilling sort of the fear-induced shivers, but he wasn't entirely upset about them. Some deep part of him seemed pleased by the soldier's behavior, and his breath came quicker in its wake. "This is not your permanent place of residence, little dragon," Mardoc said, and KJ noticed for the first time a very slight accent in the sentence, one he couldn't place. "No, I am here to take you to my master. He says your friend has been requesting to see you alive for the sake of cooperation."
True to his word, he stood, and the sound of the iron bars being unlocked was followed swiftly by the creak of a door being pushed inward. "But I volunteered for the job, as I am the only one who truly sees the fire in your breath." He came forward and helped KJ to his feet, his grip firm yet gentle as he provided stability and support. Shortly after, Mardoc reached to his own belt to retrieve a flask full of water, and helped KJ drink. He took the flask away far too soon for the thirst to be gone, but KJ understood without the soldier having to explain that too much too quickly would cause more harm than good... and likely another round of sickness. Together, they maneuvered the stairs and hallways that seemed to stretch on forever. He'd seen no sign of the others, but he hadn't gotten much of a look at the dungeon either. KJ was exhausted before they arrived at their destination, but he'd taken in the route and all the activities happening in each location he'd seen, then placed the information to the back of his mind to digest later. The room he'd been brought to was lavish: full of cushioned couches, chairs, and tables he associated with formal tea parties.
"Huh… the bad guys have doilies," he remarked snidely, and Mardoc gave a choked cough. The commotion they made drew the attention of the two men at the opposite corner of the room, seated at one of the frillier tables covered in crackers, fancy cheeses, nuts, and succulent fruits. One of the men stood swiftly, taking two quick strides toward them before freezing in place. It took KJ a moment to realize it was Dietfried. He blamed this fact on his still sluggish senses, and the fact that his friend looked… different. The glimpse he'd had of Dietfried during his drugged awareness was still there, exacerbated and highlighted, but somehow contained in the opulent clothing he was wearing. The black pants looked as if the soft leather-like material had been poured over the thick muscles of his calves and thighs. The white silk shirt somehow was designed to show off Dietfried's upper body's slenderness while dipping low to reveal a long glimpse of the pale cream of his chest, and holes cut at the shoulders to reveal more muscle and skin. Somehow, this was done without allowing a single glimpse of the scars KJ knew to be beneath the cloth.
KJ could also see the paleness to his friend's skin, where the blue blood vessels were highlighted in a ghastly display. Although these clothes fit him perfectly, there was a distinct amount of weight that had just vanished from him in what time they'd been apart. There were deep, dark bags under his eyes that gave his eyes a deep-set, haunted expression…. But his eyes…. KJ saw that there was a feverish intensity to those eyes – a light that KJ associated with the beginnings of madness, and it chilled him to the bone. There had been a distinct difference in the way he walked too: Dietfried was ever graceful, confident: a hard-won bonus from soldier training, but those steps had been jerky, uncertain, and hesitant. It reminded KJ of a child, seeking his father's approval, yet sure that he was about to be beaten for a crime not committed.
KJ looked into the stormy green of his friend's eyes, and hated Jefferies bitterly. Dietfried had never been fully forthcoming of his past, but KJ knew the signs of child abuse. He wasn't sure of the severity, but he knew the extra weight that Dietfried carried on his shoulders was only outweighed by the horrors of the battlefield. KJ also had heard enough stories about Jefferies to realize that Dietfried saw him as a father figure for a long, long time…. And now, here they were. Like a repeated nightmare that follows one in the deep recesses of the mind, peeking out of the shadows of life to terrorize, victimize, and remind one that there is no escaping the past, a moment where the monster that had always been sensed throughout childhood was indeed real, and looking at you from only a breath away…. KJ turned his eyes to Jefferies, who sat with nonchalance in his white uniform, watching. KJ's eyes smeared the man with his disdain. "You sick bastard," he snipped, locking his emotions deep within him to use as his motivation to claw this man to pieces. "What game do you think you are playing at?" He saw Dietfried flinch in the corners of his eyes, and KJ turned to him, reaching for him.
"Dietfried," he whispered, voice soothing, and saw his friend's surprised eyes turn up to meet his gaze. He opened his mouth to say more, but Jefferies moved, and pain shot up his left ankle, stealing his breath away, along with his consciousness. He heard himself gasp sharply, Mardoc cursed, then he was falling, and knew nothing at all.