Where did his life go wrong? At what point had the universe decided to kick him down and kick him some more after that? Who was to say?

Amos wondered these thoughts as he sat in a caged wagon being pulled by the Wick Kingdom knights. He was stripped of his clothes and equipment with only the dirty prison rags to call his own. His pincers were locked in box-shaped cuffs, which were unbearable to wear. They were chained to his ankles, too. His stinger had a fat cork tied down to it. If that wasn't enough, it was noon. His poor, light sensitive eyes couldn't stand the intense rays especially as there wasn't a roof to the cage. He was hot and irritable, doing his best to keep his eyes closed for the whole ride.

For circumstances unknown to him, a transfer was requested. He was to be taken to a dungeon on the outskirts of the Wick Kingdom. Amos didn't care for the details, though maybe he would've raised complaints if he knew the conditions to the transfer, like inpokemane caging and cruel hot punishment!

Amos banged the back of his head against the bars and sighed. All of this because some stupid rabbit one-upped him and the ungrateful betrayal of his untrustworthy partner. He prayed she got her comeuppance, otherwise he'll gladly track her down and bash the back of her skull with his shackles.

He saw something fly into the cage and land at his feet. He cautiously opened one eye. A canteen of water.

"Drink up," one of the knights ordered. "Got two more days left."

Amos huffed through his nostrils and knelt down, delicately taking the canteen in his teeth and undoing the cap. He listened to their snickers and grumbled to himself, reduced to eating and drinking off the floor like a pathetic creature. As if his hatred towards women was intense. Now he was wondering if everyone deserved to burn in hell.

"Having trouble back there?" the other knight spoke up. When he saw the scowl Amos shot him, the knight snorted. "Hmph. Well, maybe some time in the dungeons will teach you a lesson. Don't be surprised if you're charged with execution."

Amos ignored him after that and finally got the cap off, silently celebrating his success. He grabbed the canteen with his feet and attempted a display of body contortion he wasn't built for. Using his corked tail for balance, he tried to lift the canteen to his lips. Though his legs burned from the unusual bending, success seemed in reached.

Sadly, the universe played another jest on his misfortune as one of the wagon wheels hit a sharp depression, causing the cage to jolt. Amos lost his balance and spilled the water all of himself with barely any falling into his mouth.

He bared his teeth as the knights broke out into laughter. "Keep a better eye on the road," he jokingly informed his partner.

"Hehe, my mistake. Not sure how I missed that."

Venom dripped from Amos' tightly clenched teeth. As much as he wanted to spit on them, their armor was in the way. A successful shot or not, however, would result in another corrective beating to teach him a lesson. Instead, Amos slurped the toxins back into his mouth, then rolled onto his side, opting to sleep instead.

Forget Blind Luck. Just call me Amos the Damned now, because that's what scumbags like me deserve, apparently.


"Prisoner walking! Make way!"

Amos stumbled forward as the knights pulled him along by a chain. He growled through his teeth, but kept his head down as he passed the other dungeon cells. Some of the criminals recognized him and threw their food scraps at his head.

"Heard you liked terrorizing women, creep!"

"Guess the law finally caught up to you!"

"At least when I murdered someone, it was because they were in my way!"

Amos' eye twitched in a desperate vain to keep his temper in check. That was, until someone threw a bowl of gruel at his head, knocking him to the ground and covering him in gray, viscous mush.

"Oops, my bad," a condescending Ampharos spoke up, picking at his teeth. "I just wanted to share my food with you. Did I throw it too hard?" Amos stood up and shook the gruel off. "Hey, I heard you hate bright lights." He waved his tail and shot him with a bright flash.

"AGH!" Amos clenched his eyes shut and staggered back, causing him to slip into the gruel and fall on his face. From the sound of the two knights escorting him and their laughter, they weren't bothering to pay mind.

"Ah, so the stories are true. My, how sad. Justice really is blind, and foolish apparently."

Amos stood up and panted vehemently through his teeth. "Thanks…"

Ampharos raised his brow. "For what?"

"That gruel you threw at me? It loosened the bindings around my tail." He lunged like a wild beast at the cell bars and stabbed the sheep with his stinger.

"AGH!" Ampharos instinctively attempted to electrocute in retaliation, but with zero success to a Ground-Type. His pain doubled as Amos spat Venoshock right into his eyes. "AAAAHHH!" Ampharos stumbled back into his cell and grasped his burning face.

The knights pulled Amos back by the chain and stomped him into the ground. Amos tried to resist, but gave in to the savage stomping and went limp. He panted heavily, yet shook with rage. He heard more knights running down into the dungeon and opened the Ampharos' cell.

"What happened?" a knight asked.

"Our newest transfer, that's what." Amos felt a foot press down on his back. He strained to not cry out in pain. "Get that one to a doctor. He was poisoned, too." Amos felt the foot leave his back, then was pulled back onto his feet.

"Keep moving, bastard!" The knight kicked Amos forward, then dragged him to an empty cell. He opened the lock, undid the chains, then threw Amos into a thin haybed. The knight slammed the cell door shut and locked it. "You're going to have lots of fun around here, scumbag." The knight twirled the key on his finger and laughed as he walked away.

Amos rushed to the cell bars and slammed his cuffs against them. "You'll regret messing with me, bastard! I'll kill every last one of you if it's the last thing I do! You hear me?! I'll kill you!" The knight just laughed him off and left the dungeon.

Amos banged his cuffs against the bars a few times before growing tired. He dragged himself to his pathetic cot and fell onto his side. He turned his back to the bars and closed his eyes. He doubted he'll get any sleep tonight, but all he wanted was a few minutes of quiet. By tomorrow, he'll get a taste of Hell.


Three days in, and Amos already hated it.

His unfortunate reputation didn't do him any favors. There were scum in the world, but some had lines they wouldn't cross. In Amos' case, existing was his crime. Though he was behind the safety of the prison bars, and spared of any neighbors in front of or around his cell, every prisoner seemed to make it their personal mission to make every waking day a nightmare. The knights weren't any better, either.

Amos finally got the shackles removed from his pincers, though had to wear heavy metal bracelets that, while not heavy enough to inconvenience standard movement, limited quick combative actions like slashing or firing a gun. He was also forced to where a specially-made capsule around his stinger, basically turning it into a ball and chain.

He tried to rest in his cot, but the noisy banter of the prisoners kept him from going into the one place he felt safe: his damned mind. He piled hay over his head in vain to drown out their noise, but it pierced through with the relentless fury of harpies engaging in intellectual conversation.

"Will you bastards keep it down?!" Amos finally snapped. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Oh, you want silence, Amos?" a prisoner yelled back.

"Guess he can't stand the sight of us having fun!"

"What'd you expect? The only fun he had was picking glass out of his eyes after a woman kicked his ass!"

"Haha, yeah! It's…It's funny because his eyes are…are not good! Right?"

"Shut up, Gregory!" the prisoners yelled.

Amos shoved hay into his ears and turned onto his side. Though muffled, he could still hear the idiotic babbling of the prisoners. He gritted his teeth tightly, unintentionally spitting poison. He carelessly wiped his face and shut his eyes as tightly as he could, wishing for someone to knock him unconscious.


Five times a week, prisoners are let outside to do manual labor. The prison accompanied a large stretch of land brimming with good material. Often times, it was rock that could be made into sturdy bricks for homes. On rare occasions, one would find precious metals that could be sold for high value.

The main draw, however, was some metal called elementium, something Amos was partially familiar with. He didn't know all the details, but apparently Virdis contained some rare metal in small amounts. Trace amounts were often found in other metals. Finding a huge cluster was an incredibly rare find sought by the best blacksmiths in Virdis. Comprising a weapon entirely of elementium was an achievement of the ages.

That was all Amos knew, however. He had no idea what made it so special and he never bothered to ask. Then again, it took him until he was twenty to find out gold couldn't corrode, so what did he know? He was personally glad it meant mining underground where he was free from the sunlight. Mining lanterns were annoying, but adjustable.

"Keep digging, maggots!" the Hawlucha warden yelled, marching through the tunnels with a couple knights at his side. "You've got three more hours left before you're relieved! I don't want to see anyone slacking!"

Amos rolled his eyes and continued striking the wall with his rusty pickax. What I wouldn't give to shove this pickax up your ass, warden.

Amos scooped up the gravel he mined and dumped it into the provided minecart. He wiped his brow and reached around for his pickaxe, but it appeared to be gone. Confused, he checked inside the minecart to see if he dropped it inside by mistake.

Something banged across the side, scaring Amos forward and landing head first into the cart. He pulled himself out in time for the chorus of laughter nearby. He locked his glare onto a few prisoners, one made up of the Ampharos he met on his first day. Despite the grievous scar over his eyes, he still looked in high spirits.

"Hey Amos, we found your pickax," Ampharos said, pointing at the cart.

Amos glanced over the side and saw his pickax laying in front of the cart. There was also a tiny scuff mark from where the pickax struck. He gritted his teeth as they started up their laughter again.

"Amos!" He straightened up as the warden came around. "What did I say about slacking?! Trying to take a nap where I can't see you?!"

Amos didn't bother arguing. The warden treated everyone the same. He didn't stand for tomfoolery of any kind, even if the blame was on someone else. In some respects, Amos was glad he wasn't being solely singled out and instead being treated with indiscriminate malice. If he had to choose between a warden who shows favoritism versus the warden from Hell, he'll gladly endure whatever punishment the devil had lined up for him.

Amos sighed, bit back on the vitriol bubbling on his tongue, and climbed out. "My apologies, warden. It won't happen again."

Hawlucha snorted and jabbed him in the chest. "It better not." He shot a glare at the snickering trio tormenting him. "And you three!" He marched toward them, leaving Amos to himself with a tiny smirk on his face.


With time, one could adjust to their newfound lifestyle, even in a dismal prison forced to work in an underground mine. Amos grew mostly comfortable in his accommodations, finding the right groove in his bed to blissfully sleep away into. He eventually got use to the horrible food, able to completely forgo the taste. Downside was that he was convinced he lost his sense of taste.

Then, there were the prisoners. Oh, how Amos hated his prison mates. Some had the decency to leave him be, others felt the need to assert their dominance like they were the ringleader of the joint. Amos hated tough guys like that. He had to learn to be crafty at a young age. Fight sharper, not harder.

As per usual at the prison, when they weren't mining for elementium or wasting away in their cells, the prisoners were let out into the prison courtyard for a temporary reprieve. While most prisoners went to the sports equipment or the weights, Amos stuck to the shade of the stony bleachers sitting beside the high fence.

He rolled a rock around in his pincer, gradually grinding it down into a new shape. He would periodically look back out at the courtyard, an unfortunate habit he started developing. Every so often, one of the prisoners felt the need to get the jump on him. Amos, of course, wasn't about to let that persist.

He eventually spotted his "rival" at the weights. The Ampharos lifted a barbell ranging around seventy kilograms by his guess. For someone with such scrawny looking arms, he could hold out for a while.

Amos checked around the courtyard for the guards, who kept semi-vigilance of the prisoners. Just enough to notice obvious scuffles breaking out.

Amos smirked. Perfect. He returned to the stone he had grinded down and held it up to his face. A bullet-shaped pebble. He tossed it around a couple times, then pinched it. He steadied his pincer and closed one eye, aiming his shot at the oblivious sheep. A shame he didn't have his gun, but he still had his aim.

A pathway of powdered rock spiraled from the ground, traveling toward the sheep's foot. Amos took a deep breath, maximizing the stability in his arm, then flicked the pebble. It struck the bottom of Ampharos' foot. Thanks to the sharp tip of the bullet and the sensitivity of most bipeds' soles, Ampharos jolted from the bench with a high-pitched squeal.

Ampharos lost the strength in his arms and dropped the barbell onto his chest. He squirmed and flailed underneath the heavy iron, screaming for help. His buddies tried to get the barbell off him amidst the panic.

Amos shuffled deeper into the shade and let loose a howl of laughter. Still got it. He laughed harder when Ampharos' buddies dropped the barbell on him again by accident, no thanks to his squealing. The guards finally noticed the commotion and rushed over to help.

Amos sighed and leaned his head back against the stone steps. A guy can get use to a place like this.


"Prisoner walking! Make way!"

Amos stirred in his cot and turned away from the light. Must they really announce that every time someone's brought in? He curled up and tried to ignore the guard. He couldn't help, however, listening to the resistance being put up by the prisoner. Trust me, newbie, that's not going to work. But please, feel free to have your arm broken.

He heard the cage across from him swing open before slamming shut. He turned over and saw the guard locking up the cell. Wonderful. I got a new prison mate to chat with. Amos rolled his eyes. Welp, I'm not getting to sleep anytime soon. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"You're seriously sticking me in the same prison as these lunatics?!" Amos' eyes widened as the prisoner spoke. They sounded feminine…and deafeningly familiar. "Isn't there a cell block for women or something?"

"Get over it," the guard dismissed. "Besides, compared to the crooks in here, I don't see much difference." Amos listened as the guard's footsteps retreated from the cell.

"Ugh, typical. I was this close to finding Harlow, and then that jackass Oshawott just had to ruin my fun. I swear, of all the shit I go through…"

Amos whipped his head around and came face-to-face with a Wigglytuff dressed in prison rags. His eyes widened as he studied her features. She, too, stared back upon noticing him, and her own eyes mirrored his.

"Amos?"

"Marsaili?!"

"…Oh fuck."


Once courtyard time came the next day, Marsaili had nowhere to run.

Amos shoved her up against the fence and pressed his stinger against her side, digging in enough to draw blood. He growled like a hungry animal while Marsaili tried her best to remain calm. Normally, she would've shrunken and escaped, but Amos had such a tight grip on her arm that the rapid shrinking could tear the skin off.

Even so, she couldn't resist a spot of banter with her ex-partner.

"Have you been working out, Amos? I don't remember you being quite this strong."

"Shove it!" Amos snapped, digging his stinger deeper into her side. "You double-crossing, manipulative, unreliable bitch! I should kill you right here and now!"

Marsaili grinned. "But…?"

"But nothing! The only reason you're still alive is because I don't want to get clubbed in the head. I guarantee you, though, that I will blow your brains out the second I get my gun back."

"My, someone's pent up." Marsaili scoffed. "I doubt they brought your fancy toy when you were transferred. They probably pawned it off before then."

"I have other ways of killing you," Amos snarled. "Maybe I could liquify your organs with my Venoshock, or poison you in the mess hall, or fashion together a club to bash the back of your skull open."

Marsaili sighed. "So unnecessarily violent." She looked around the prison and glared. "Although, I must say, it's all very strange we ended up in the same prison."

"Perhaps Arceus demands I send you to Hell."

"Oh, can it with the melodrama, I'm being serious." Marsaili glared at the guards, who weren't paying much mind to them. "I was in Verde territory when I was captured. The Foresters dumped me in front of some knights after they finished interrogating me."

"You were interrogated? You gave away valuable information? How could you be so weak?"

Marsaili cringed. "Trust me, it wasn't exactly a fun three days for me. Mostly confusing. Oddly…sexual, too." She shivered. "Besides, the worst I did was give out our group name and the others' names, save for the boss."

Amos scoffed and dropped her onto her rear. "You're weak."

"You were beaten by a rookie thief."

"I told you, that Harlow chick was insane. You were arrested, too."

"By a higher-ranking Forester, so HA!"

Amos rolled his eyes. "Congratulations, you can justify getting your ass kicked seven ways to the ocean." Amos kicked a stone and fell back against the stone bleachers.

Marsaili shuffled over next to him and settled her hands in her lap. "Amos, I was serious about earlier. Don't you think it's strange we ended up in the same prison?"

"Could be a coincidence."

"Why would the Verde Kingdom transfer me to a prison in the Wick Kingdom? And why specifically this one? It's freaking me out." She glared. "You know what they told Althalos should we fail to keep the Wraith secret, right?"

"You're being paranoid," Amos dismissed. "What? Are you actually suggesting they arranged for us to end up in the same prison?"

"We don't know the full extent of their influence. We were hired to distribute Wraith, not ask questions." She gritted her teeth. "And they may have reason to believe we'll run our mouths to the guards or something."

"Just shut up," Amos groaned. "I've been here for a while, and I'm clearly still alive. That mad doctor hasn't shown his face anywhere here. We're fine."

"You don't know that. We have no idea what they're capable of. And we both know Dr. Underhill is not a man to be trifled with. He serves under Terrowin as his right hand. What do you suppose that means for us?"

"We're fine," Amos insisted, crossing his arms. "Once Althalos hears about this, he'll break us out of prison before Last Autumn has a chance to dig their claws into us."

Marsaili shook her head. "You're too complacent, you know. All you think about is yourself."

"And you're any better?"

"I was trained under Spring-Loaded Harriet. I have enough sense to know when to read the room. Can you at least humor my concerns and keep an eye out for anything suspicious?"

Amos rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever. I'll survey the prison and see if there's any connection with Underhill or Last Autumn."

"Guess it's fortunate we ended up in the same cells."

"But I promise you this," Amos hissed. "The second Althalos breaks us out of here, I'm breaking your legs."

"Do what you want." Marsaili sat up and dusted her hands off. "I'm going to scope the courtyard out. Coming?"

"And expose my eyes to the sun? No thanks."

Marsaili smirked, then shrugged. "Must suck to be you."

"Do not make me break your legs here and now."

"I'm going, I'm going." Marsaili marched off, leaving the grouchy Gligar to himself.


Amos hated to admit it, but Marsaili had him on edge since their conversation.

He adapted to looking over his shoulder before she arrived at the prison, but that was in the case of other prisoners and guards. At worst, he expected a beating for stepping out of line. But the chance of being assassinated? That was a concern in of itself.

Amos always knew associating with Last Autumn was a bad idea, even if he kept it to himself. Perhaps his greed blinded him from pressing on his concerns, to which he wished he could kick his own ass for not raising a fit sooner. He looked upon the guards and prisoners with newfound skepticism, wondering what went on in their minds. Minding their own business like always? Or scheming to drive a knife into his back?

Despite the tension between them, Amos and Marsaili silently agreed to stick close to each other. Not side-by-side, but within eyesight. When they broke for meals, they sat at different tables, scouting out the prison and keeping watch of their backs. The mines, they paired up to complete their minimum quota, usually bringing more pickaxes for convenience sake. The courtyard, generally stayed in Amos' preferred corner in the shade.

Nothing changed in the last couple of weeks. The guards were as pushy as ever, and their prison mates were as terrible as the cafeteria food. And yet, neither of them could shake this feeling something wasn't quite right. But what?

This time, Marsaili sat with Amos for lunch in the far corner of the cafeteria. Amos looked up from his questionable grey pudding and glared at her. "What?"

"I've been digging around, asking some prisoners about the warden and guards. Anything that could explain why we're here."

Amos rolled his eyes. "What are you, a detective?"

"Just listen. I couldn't get any dirt on the prison, but I did squeeze out something interesting from a veteran convict. As it turns out, this prison is uncharted on most maps in the Wick Kingdom. Many of the prisoners here didn't even know this place existed until they were brought in. It's being paid for and ran by an unknown source."

"Last Autumn?"

"I don't think so, or at least not entirely. Last Autumn has numerous informants around Virdis, some likely of noble lineage. One, if not multiple families, could run this prison as they see fit."

"How could something like this go unnoticed by the Tetrarch family?"

Marsaili glared off to the side. "I've heard some unpleasant things about the Tetrarchs here. Maybe they don't know and don't bother to look into anything strange. Or perhaps they're the ones funding the prison."

"But what about transferred prisoners, like you?"

"If this is still some plot to get us all together, that's one reason. It's frightening to think Last Autumn has that much influence to transfer prisoners from different kingdoms, no questions asked."

Amos clenched his teeth, pushing aside his food and laying against the table. "Suddenly not hungry anymore…"

"If the others don't break us out soon, we could be do for some serious repercussions." Marsaili clenched her teeth. "Or worse, death."

Amos sighed. "Alright, so obviously we wait until they bust us out. Shouldn't be that hard. Who cares if the Foresters are after us? Rogier and Frank are ungodly strong, Ainsley is a menace of an Absol, Terrick is fast and slippery, and the boss is an unstoppable force of nature. The chances of the Foresters beating all of them are next to zero."

Marsaili relaxed and huffed out the air she was holding in, deflating herself. "You're right, you're right. We have nothing to worry about." She smiled. "Yeah. They'll get us out of here, then we won't face any punishment at all."

Amos crossed his arms and smirked. "See? Everything's going to be just—"


"FUCK!"

Amos and Marsaili gripped their cell bars in horror as the guards dragged in two new prisoners: a familiar Poliwrath and Absol of all things! Amos stepped back as the guard threw Rogier into his cell while Marsaili got Ainsley.

"Enjoy your new cellmates, scum," the Pangoro guard said before going on his way.

Rogier picked himself up and groaned. "What the hell did they feed us? I'm not feeling so—" Amos tackled the Poliwrath to the ground and pressed his pincers down on his neck.

"You inept dumbass! How the hell were you captured?!" Amos screamed. "All you had to do was kill the guy after you! That's the only thing you can't fuck up!"

Marsaili facepalmed herself and slid down to the floor. "Yep, we're doomed."

Ainsley curled up on the floor and scoffed. "Surprised to see you losers here, too. Nice to see you all aren't dead."

Amos finished strangling Rogier and gripped his cell bars. "Oho! Don't think I forgot about you, bitch!"

"Threaten me all you want. I'm already on death row, so anything you say or do to me is irrelevant." She smirked as the Gligar fumed and snarled at her.

Marsaili groaned and raised her hand. "If you children are done cussing each other out…" She glared at Ainsley. "What happened?"

Ainsley sighed. "Business as usual, yada-yada. We encountered some Foresters who were searching for us. Rogier got his ass kicked by that psychopath, Harlow, and her Meowstic friend while I got pounded by an Espeon and Hakomo-o."

"Can I get next round?" a nearby prisoner called out.

"SHUT UP, GREGORY!" the rest of the prisoners yelled.

Amos deadpanned. "You lost…to a Psychic-Type? You are so…UGH!" He headbutted the bars and marched around his cell. "I'm surrounded by morons!"

Rogier sat up and massaged his throat. "Those Foresters are trickier than I thought. Persistent, too."

Ainsley smirked. "Oh, it gets MUCH better. Tell them what you ended up doing after we got hauled to their secret base, Rogier. I'm sure they would LOVE to hear how that went."

Rogier glared at her. "If I didn't say anything, that crazy Mawile was going to torture you to death." He winced. "Or worse, force me to watch more of you two getting weird. Seriously, you were enjoying the first part of interrogation a little too much."

"I was trying to let her guard down—"

"You were making out with her halfway through!"

"I was trying really hard to let her guard down."

"Oh, and I'm sure if we waited a little longer, you two were going to throw your clothes off and—"

"OKAY!" Amos interrupted. "I don't want to hear any more of this filth!" He turned to Rogier and growled. "What did you say?"

Rogier narrowed his eyes. "…I told them the boss' name."

"Oh great."

"And that our base of operations is in one of the villages at the base of Mt. Algus."

"Oh GREAT!" Amos slammed his head into the bars. "Oh, that's just great! Wonderful, even!" He banged on the bars and yelled, "Hey guard! Can you bring me a knife? I want to stab myself to death! Better yet, can you do it for me?"

Marsaili glared. "Oh, knock it off, drama queen."

"I'm sorry, but don't you remember that the boss has been working nonstop just to keep his name from spreading. He warned us never to speak his name out in public, and now those thorns known as Foresters have vital information sitting in their pockets. The second they figure out which village he's in, they'll try taking him down."

"Weren't you the one raving that he and the others will be fine?" Marsaili countered.

"That was before these idiots got themselves captured and spilled their guts!"

Ainsley yawned. "I didn't spill anything, so leave me out of this."

Amos slapped himself in the face and slid to the ground. "This can't be happening. I'm actually going to die in prison…"

Rogier gripped the bars. "So, what do we do? Sooner or later, Last Autumn's going to…silence us."

Ainsley glared. "The second they try anything, we'll just counterattack. We have time." She flashed her claws and smirked. "I'll make sure to rip their guts out."

Amos glared. "Oh yeah, that's comforting." He dragged himself over to his cot and lay down. "I'm going to sleep. Don't wake me up." He curled himself up and clenched his eyes shut.

He blocked out his teammates as they continued conversing. The sense of dread he felt upon first arriving in prison crept back into him. No longer in fear of his fellow prisoners, but the fear of an ambush staged to remove any loose ends from the undesirables of Last Autumn's failures. He just wanted to sleep and forget it all.

Just sleep forever from his nightmares.


The days ticked by, maybe even weeks, but Amos distanced himself from his fellow Dukes as he went about prison life. They seemed to cling to a shred of false hope and spent every day coordinating a prison break. They asked Amos to join in, but he rejected them every time, refusing to associate with them.

Life didn't get any easier as Amos' mood declined. The bullying from the other prisoners amped up, from shoving his face into his food to knocking over a day's work of mining from his cart. The Ampharos was particularly hostile in his torment, gleefully stomping down on Amos' head until he stopped resisting.

Amos stopped caring. He would have to be dragged out of his cell by a guard for food, but eventually they opted to bringing him food instead. It took considerable willpower just to lift his arm and eat a fraction of the grotesque meal.

As the days passed, his team continued with their scheming in hopes of breaking themselves out, no doubt with the intention of dragging him along. He knew Marsaili and Ainsley, though. They'd sooner dump him in front of a moving carriage than lend any sort of genuine hand of support. Rogier, at least, was the only reliable support around, but Amos didn't trust the idiot ex-knight for his reliability.

Amos didn't care what became of himself anymore. Either he lives his life in prison or dies for his incompetence. What a befitting end to his wretched soul.


Amos wiped his brow after another shift in the mines. He deposited his cart of scraps and pickax before dragging himself back to his cell. He saw his teammates lagging by the entrance waiting for him, but he paid them no mind and continued in without them.

Marsaili shuffled behind him and glared. "How long are you going to keep acting like a sourpuss, dumbass?"

Amos shook some sweat off his head. "Until someone finally drives a pickax through my neck."

Ainsley snickered. "That can be arranged."

"I hate you so much."

Rogier let his eyes wander a bit at the other prisoners, but his attention froze on a group of guards coming through the doors. "Uh, guys? You might want to look at this."

Amos and the girls turned their heads, then gasped. The guards came in, pushing along three new prisoners wrapped in shackles and wearing the scars of a fierce battle in their beaten physiques. A Throh covered in bruises, a Sawsbuck dragging himself with a limp, and a Dusknoir with electrical burns across his skin.

The Dukes' eyes widened in horror as realization dawned upon them. The familiar batch of prisoners set off the alarms in their heads, a reckoning they soon not face for the coming months.

Their time was officially up.