Chapter II

By the time Talon had awoken, darkness had already fallen once more over the dunes of Shurima. Several times the assassin blinked, still trying to grasp onto consciousness and will himself to move from the position in which he lay. The bed that he was occupying was warm, and quite soft - begging for him to remain in place rather than sitting up and moving away.

Except, this was rather odd, he soon noticed.

Talon certainly didn't remember going to sleep in a place with a sandy colored roof, nor did he remember his bed ever being this soft. His bed sheet, last he remembered, also wasn't a deep purple cloak. Dark eyes merely stared at the single article of clothing that was draped over his torso, running from his chest to a good way past his feet, before he abruptly tore it off and left it in a heap on the far side of the mattress.

Then, he coughed, sitting up as a sudden, dulled pain filled his throat.

A low huff escaped his pursed lips as he rubbed the tender flesh of his neck, remembering the way the cloaked man had nearly strangled him to death. His throat was definitely aching, perhaps even bruised, given the force that had been applied to it. Which, brought another odd fact to his thoughts - why was he still alive?

Normally, those he were assigned to assassinate would jump at the chance to kill him before he killed them.

His gloved hand lowered to his side, keeping himself from irritating his throat further. It was rather annoying, but able to be easily dealt with - yet, the assassin soon realized that a bruised throat was the least of his current worries. A single sound was all it took to make the assassin's blood run cold.

The sound of clinking chains.

Both of his wrists were bound by two firmly set shackles, stuck so tight that they wouldn't even turn a single inch when trying to shift them around. A long rope of chain was attached to each shackle, pinned to the far wall with an iron bolt. He was a prisoner.

Panicked, the assassin stood, testing the length of the chains and filling the room with a loud metallic rattling as he moved as far as he could. The room wasn't too large, merely a simple square in shape, and the length of the chains only extended to the arch shaped doorway that led out into a dark hallway. Whoever put him here had meant for him to stay, that was for certain; though he was sure that it was the same man that he had met last night.

The target that he had failed to assassinate.

Yet as he stopped and thought, his mind recalled the whisper of a word, seemingly a name, before darkness claimed him. A strange name, he thought; one that he certainly had not heard of before. Perhaps it was the name of that man...? 'Malzahar'... yes, in a way, that did seem rather fitting.

Fitting for a creepy, shrouded man that stalked the desert at night.

A frustrated huff came from Talon's lips as he sat down on the end of the bed, holding his head in his hands. His blades were gone, and so was his cape; any method to defend himself had vanished, and without them, he felt bare. Not to say he couldn't throw a good punch when needed, but his fists certainly weren't his strong points - nor were his kicks.

Thus, he did the only thing he could. His dark eyes began to scan the room, though they didn't come across much. A single dresser, nightstand, and a chest for storing items were all that lie within the bedroom - both, of which, were empty when the assassin checked them.

Though, the small oval window that made its home on the far left wall near the doorway did manage to catch Talon's interest.

Hesitantly, the rogue drew close to the window, finding it rather easy to reach due to the gracious length of the chains. His hands gripped onto the smooth stone, finding that he could fit his head outside with ease. However the outside certainly didn't give much, nothing but desert spanned in the distance, not a single pyramid or homestead in sight.

Yet if he could just find a way to remove these chains, this window could be his ticket to freedom.

"You should remove the thought of escaping from your mind. It will make it easier on your mental health as you stay here."

That familiar spectral voice chimed into Talon's ears, growling as he bumped his head on the top of the window in surprise as he drew it back in. Rubbing the back of his head, he turned to face the doorway, spotting a figure standing just down the hall. It only moved once the assassin had spotted it, soon coming into the room and with that, into view as the darkness no longer concealed him.

The same man, although lacking a cape to shroud his muscular, yet graceful figure, stood next to Talon.

"Did you have a nice rest? You slept the entire day, and night, away."

His question was met with silence, the assassin simply turning his head away to avoid the piercing gaze of the other man.

"Last time I checked, you had a voice..." Talon scowled as his chin was grabbed, head forced around so his dark eyes locked with the glowing blue orbs once more, "Use it. Answer me when I speak to you."

"I see no reason to spend time idly chit-chatting with the one who's put me in chains like a dog." Talon spat, words coming out a little more harsher than he intended, but they were the truth; right now, he was angry, and he wanted the other to realize that.

Though, it didn't take much for said man to realize that. Upon closer inspection, there was a small fire gleaming in Talon's eyes that made him stop and stare into them for a short moment. The assassin certainly was passionate, a little grumpy, sure, but the sheer willpower his eyes held alone was quite impressive.

"Yet, is that not what you are? A dog. A mangy, street roaming mutt that was taken in by a noble through sheer luck. Even now, you trail after his heels like a lost pup. You don't even have a direction to go; you're wandering blindly and doing nothing but hoping you will somehow gain a lead as to his whereabouts." Malzahar retaliated with an equal amount of aggression, allowing the assassin to know that he would not simply be spoken down to without a fight, "What have you to gain by finding General Marcus Du Couteau? Are you hoping for a medal?! Why do you not reclaim the freedom you once held?"

Malzahar's words left Talon wide-eyed, frozen in place like a statue. His limbs had fallen down to his sides, brow narrowing as he thought about all that was said. It was true, he didn't have a lead, nor a direction... he was wandering blindly, but all for good reason.

He made a promise to find the General. Not just for his sake, but for the sake of his daughters and the entirety of Noxus. Without him... Noxus was slowly crumbling under Swain's rule; the tyrant couldn't run a city-state if he possessed all the knowledge in Runeterra.

The fact the Prophet somehow knew of this, however... really unsettled the assassin.

"My purpose is to protect the General; I am indebted to him for sparing my life and giving me a home. He took me from the streets, recognized my abilities, and put them to good use. I made a promise that I would return him to Noxus safe and sound... I am not a man that goes back on his promises." Talon's voice, though trying to remain calm, shook with anger as he spoke. Anger that he was being belittled by the prophet. "That is all you need to know."

A scoff was all he was given in response, the grip on his chin being released as Malzahar took a step back. His head shook, eyes narrowing as they continued to focus on the assassin's face. Truly a lively one, he was.

"You are a man of promises... yet, you are from Noxus?" Malzahar questioned, face contorting into a look of inquiry.

"What of it?"

"It is... ironic, given what I have been told, and seen of your city. It a home of thieves, street rats and thugs; who taught you about keeping promises?"

Malzahar's question made Talon snarl.

"Don't group me up with those imbeciles. I'm not a thug. Far from it." Talon's voice was laced with venom, "Thief... I will accept. Thug? Absolutely not."

"Very well..." Malzahar held a smile, despite the menacing tone the other's voice held, "One thing, however, still interests me about you, Talon... I simply do not understand why you haven't reclaimed your freedom."

"Of course you don't," Talon scoffed, leaning against the wall and raising his arms so the chains on his wrists were plainly visible. "How could you understand the concept of freedom, when you have me chained up like a prisoner?"

Although he had expected to be lashed out at for such a remark, that sort of response never came. Instead, the Prophet gave a dark chuckle, hints of scheming and amusement riddling the single action. It made Talon's skin crawl, knowing that this man was a lot crazier than he looked.

"Quite the sarcastic one, aren't you?" Malzahar grinned, waving the thought away with a smug glance at the young assassin and a nonchalant wave of his hand. "No matter. I do hope you will learn to like it here, Talon. You will be staying for a while."

"Don't count on it."

As Malzahar walked over and grabbed his dark cloak from the bed, Talon's hawk-like eyes didn't once leave his form. He watched as he wrapped it neatly, precisely, around his figure, before turning and walking from the room. Not a single farewell was exchanged between the two, the home's silence only being shattered by the faint sound of the front door creaking as it opened and shut.

Releasing an irritated sigh, Talon stomped over to the bed and flopped onto it, curling his arms over the single pillow as he lay on his stomach. His eyes were lowered into a look of sheer anger, focused on the wooden headboard directly in front of him. The Prophet was certainly a piece of work - a very, very annoying piece of work.

Yet, they would need to learn to tolerate one another, Talon knew - it was something that couldn't be helped. But that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. There was nothing enjoyable about the Seer's presence.

A scowl formed the assassin's current expression.

The second he would get his chance, he would complete his mission and slit the throat of the Prophet without remorse.