Guard POV. I'm going to switch through POVs for a bit I think... but don't count that as a promise... I don't know what I'm going to do from here 0.0' eheheh... Ideas please? Or just hope I get a sudden brainwave....
...this chapter sort of scares me... but that might just be because I'm listening to 'Tukankhamen' by Nightwish right now.... it's a scary song...
Oi... I ran out of things to say really quickly...
Disclaimer – Compare this and the real manga. Take FIVE SECONDS and do that. Notice anything different? Yeah. That's why I don't own it.
It was a week or so later when we got the orders to go pick up the traitor at the infirmary. It wasn't a nice place in there. Too many of our comrades had died in it, and by the Noah and Akuma's doing. It was the main reason we could be so merciless to the boy. The one who was possessed by the Noahs. From what we knew, he had been asking for it. A spy in our order, pretending to care about us, saving the exorcists only because there would have been a witness to his deeds.
They had praised Cross Marian. The man had received payment for half of his debts and an even more extravagant room in the Order. Because he had been able to destroy the evil which he himself had wrought.
And thus, they were once again in the direction of the cell made specially for the child. It was far down in Central, at least a floor below the regular levels, but the stairways and elevator went so deep into the ground that it was often difficult to tell which level you were on.
Once you were that hallway, though, there was no doubt where you were going. There was a horrible eerie feeling about it that left you no doubt there was something very scary at the end of that hallway. Ever the newest recruits could feel it. The lingering air of sadness was always in that place. Guards never volunteered to go down, so they went in by order of last name.
And now, two guards were once again descending to the hall that had earned the nickname 'The Earl's Chasm'. Their last names were Kertlans and Kerqi. They were both pronounced in some obscure way only they could manage to say properly. Both were relatively new recruits, and only had done this once. They shivered as the elevator whizzed and buzzed as it dropped slowly through the tunnels of the lowest depths of the Central Order.
The familiar cold obscured them as they breeched the unforgettable hall. It was dark and cold. Oil lanturnes hung every few feet, growing softly, not being much of an oponent for the dark. The brick was painted black and so the light didn't reflect well, instead, seeming to hover in it's place in the air rather than illuminating anything.
The hall was long but simple, with no doors branching out and no other hallways. At the end was the only door in the entire way other than the entrance. There were no windows, not even for the door.
Opening it, linking light flooded the hallway. Unlike outside, this room was painted white and many lamps covered half of the ceiling, which was tall and domed. Swarms of black bat golems flitted around the room, taping everything and relaying it to some control room, even deeper into Central. It was the center of the room that they really payed attention to.
It looked like a coffin, for lack of a better description. The bottom was narrower than the top and it was painted black with a large gold cross in the center. Chains bolted it to the floor and held it in place as it rocked slightly from the slightest shift of weight from within it's confines.
The usual sounds came out of it. The sounds of a chain being pulled on and then relaxed. It was eerily continuous, though the boy hardly ever moved one of his arms when he was out; they supposed that was the one he pulled with.
They opened the door quickly. A shriek and the fast clatter of chains moving greeted them. The traitor was strapped to the wall of the coffin by chains. Around his arms and legs and neck, around his thighs and shoulders. He looked like a fallen marionette like that, chains coming from every part of him almost. His hands covered his eyes as best as they could, trying to save himself from the light.
He was in the same clothes as he had been the day he had been brought in, drugged partly into sleep. Torn white shirt missing half it's buttons, one sleeve hidden by the massive scroll of talismans covering one his left arm where his weapon of damnation was truly embedded into his arm, stolen from the true owner. pants with ripped and frayed edges, shoes that were peel at the heel and the stitches were coming out. They were coated in the smell of vomit and blood as the stench of the coffin was released into the room. His clothes weren't cleaned, he wasn't bathed, and being left in for hours in complete dark in a small space at a time could ruin a person.
A small, dark space with chains clinging onto a small body that was covered in his body fluids. It was the image of nightmares. The control room staff who oversaw this place and experimented within it had to be completely heartless to do their job. Or at least to not puke whenever they saw it. As it was now, the two soldiers were having a hard time with just that. It was utterly gross and vile, the little thing in the bottom of the coffin.
It's sad silver eyes stared up at them in horror as it slowly lowered the chained hands from it's eyes, which were already partly covered by the long, stringy threads of white hair that had lost any sheen it might have once had. One soldier sucked in his gut and leaned down with a key. It whimpered and tried to shy away, backing itself into the wall as though hoping it would be swallowed up into the black iron.
One by one, the limbs fell down from their chains, often slamming against the floor of the coffin with a sick thud, though that was better than it landing without a sound or with a splash, which usually signaled it had landed in vomit or blood. It's expression was in a solidified, permanent horror-struck look. It's eyes wide and forever staring, mouth slightly agap. They didn't like it when the Noah-child looked at them with that expression, though they could never place just why.
As all the chains dangled where they were released, the soldier grabbed it by the scruff of his neck or by the strands of his hair and jerked him forward and into the bright white room. He let go for a moment as it was on it's feet to see if it could stand. As always, the legs twisted together and the knees buckled the moment the exceedingly painful grip released. He fell to the white floor without a sound but the echoing crack as his head hit the smoothed over concrete.
The guards groaned as the boy remained motionless and devoid of emotion as he lay there. It was strange. It wasn't but so long ago that the boy had given Central the fight of it's life.
Allen elbowed the nearest guard as hard and deep as he could, causing the man to sputter and drop to the floor, clutching his ribs. He spun and knocked the other guard behind the knees, tripping him and making him fall into the wall, where he hit his head with a sick thud and lay unconscious on the floor moments afterwards.
He ripped the thin wired handcuffs that held his right and left hand together. Slanting himself so his left was tilted towards the ground, he sprinted down the hall. He skidded into people, he knocked things over and broke anything in his immediate path, trying his best to cause as much havoc as he could. Anything to slow the Crows who were certainly coming at that moment.
The halls were crowded with people. Too many people to move quickly in. The halls were too long, they didn't seem to ever end. It was scary, like the everlasting nightmare. You kept running but never got anywhere, never went closer to where you wanted to get to, but the people chasing you came up behind you so fast.
He heard them behind him. He heard their yells and the loud thumps that their boots made when they came down hard on the floor. He heard them screaming obsanities at his back, cursing him, threatening him. He ran faster, his legs straining and beginning to ache. His ribs tightened and crushed his chest, making breathing impossible. He kept going. He couldn't ever stop—
The floor came up at a horribly fast speed, giving a loud crack as he fell into it. His back was stabbed with a pain as the heel of a boot came down onto it and he choked violently as his neck felt the other heel. They swarmed him, their boots digging into him, kicking him, stepping on him, hurting him.
He gritted his teeth and tried his best not to cry out. A boot caught him in his mouth. His attempt failed as he yelped in suprise at the painful, intentional hit connected with his teeth. Blood filled his mouth and he felt something hard against the side of his gum. One tooth out.
The blood seeped onto the floor, despite Allen trying to keep his mouth closed. He twisted under the people on top of him, knocking several over, pushing most of them off balance. He bit into one hand with his remaining teeth, his blood seeping onto the hand. Whoever's hand it was screamed loudly and tried to kick Allen away. People behind him yanked at his hair and ripped at his skin, trying to drag him away from whomever their comrade was whom he was biting.
He kept his eyes closed firmly so he wouldn't have to see everything he was doing at that moment. A fist flew across his face and his teeth were pulled out of the hand, throwing his head against something hard— a wall. He whipped his fist around him, feeling his arm slam into bodies he refused to see. People cried out and screamed as he charged forward again, blindly, hoping not to run into anything.
Things fell against him as he ran. Doors fell open as he crashed into them. Cuts and bruises appeared on his body as things he couldn't bring himself to see found him. Found him, hit him, beat him until he was somehow able to escape them again. He was literally running on auto drive. He was scared.
"He's fighting blind!"
He ran faster. He didn't want to be caught. God knew what they would do to him if he was caught. But God had abandoned him long ago, on the night he turned twelve and damned himself with his father. Why did he do it? Why had he been given the choice to do it? He hadn't known!
He was thrown against the floor again, a hand choking his neck while his arms were pinned at his sides, held by the painful heels of boots again. They twisted and ground his hands into the floor. He opened his mouth for a pained cry to escape, though it came out as a gnarled moan.
"Dont fight back, Walker, you'll get bent into even worse shape," A familiar voice hissed into his ear.
"L-Link?" He gasped out, unable again to open his eyes. The hand on his neck twitched forward into the below of his jaw. He hacked and sputtered, unable to get any air.
"Yes, it's me, now shut up, you have me angry enough because of the damn biting shit you pulled," Link hissed. Slowly, he pulled his hand back off of Allen's neck and held him down by pressuring his chest instead. The boy below him gasped for air. His chest heaved under Link's hand. Link felt just a bit bad for doing this to Allen, but it wasn't as though having pity was going to help him. The next person who caught him probably wouldn't stop with just suffocating him.
And so, Allen was beaten as they dragged him through the hallways by his hair. He could hardly move from the wreck of pain he was when he was finally brought into that bright white room. They drugged him again, and when he woke up....
It was pitch black. He couldn't move anything more than a few inches. Chains restrained his entire body and he was cramped up into some small little place. Worst of all...
...he could only scream at the dark.
The boy had been defeated within a week, but not completely broken. Down here, in the darkness, he was docile, fearful, a living doll who could do nothing at all but cry in terror and shudder in fear as they came. Down here, he let them kick him and control him without making any argument. Or even a sound.
But he was different when it was lighter, not like the dark coffin or the bright room. He was different when it was warmer. He rebelled again and became dangerous.
The two guards cast each other glances as they both stepped down to lift the silent child from the coffin-like prison. He was limp as they let go, seeing if he could yet balance. He wobbled a moment before slipping on something nonexistent and crashing to the floor. He lay there, immobile as always. He wasn't yet awake. Wasn't yet able to resist. One guard bent over and took advantage of that.
Before, they had only bound him when it was necessary, but the last time they waited until then, a guard had been injured. Badly.
The limp form only make a weak whimper as his arms were pulled back roughly and handcuffed behind him. His arms were twisted behind his shoulder blades as he was pulled up to his feet and dragged down the hallway. He remained silent. Link watched him, standing back in the hall. The Inspector and Crow had been assigned the mission of watching over Walker, forever hiding behind every corner to see what was happening with the child, and every time Walker tried to escape, he seemed to be brought back by Link.
Oddly enough though, he never seemed to struggle when it was Link restraining him. The guards had dismissed this, after all, Link was a Crow.
So it wasn't but so odd that Walker had eyes only for Link as they passed where he was standing, stilhoused in the rapidly disappearing light from the white room. His silver eyes, wide and bleak, moved slightly as they dragged him past the inspector. The two guards shuddered. The silent exchange through eyes of two such people was enough to set most off in panic.
Walker slowly came alive again as they left the elevator. First came the arms, as always. The fingers twitched, the hands moved slowly, feeling their bindings. The fore and upper arms jerked softly at them, trying to find more room for circulation, being pinned uncomfortably behind him. The deformed left arm was soon grasped and pulled on by the right arm, as though hoping it would come out of his socket. Next went his eyes. They cleared and grew lighter, wide and fearful, dashing around to everything and everyone in sight. The rest of his body slowly caught up to his head and neck, but by the time that happened, the guards always tried to be where Espidan worked.
At the sight of the large white doors, there was always a struggle.
000
They watched from above in wonder as the child collapsed onto the floor and screamed. Obsanities ripping from his throat. Swear and cries that made uninteligable sentences cut through the air and the looking glass. They were frightened, what else could they do but laugh? It was an escape from the fear the agonized creature before them brought. One man tried to crack a joke, and the other would laugh whether it was funny or not. They looked away, looked apart, ignored the thing that would kill them so easily.
Even the most self-reliant among them had to admit, they believed Levirrier to be near their savior for his impossibly hard ways. He was able to stand above the beast and mock it. Meanwhile, all the soldiers could only think of one thing as they looked on at the bleeding form on the floor. How easily they would be dead if this thing ever got the chance to escape and wished to kill them. They would be dead within instants, easily. He was, after all, the child of Noah. He was dangerous. He was a killer.
As we wait for guiding light, let us pray 'survive tonight'.