City 17Mature

Act 1: The Prison
1st Chapter- City 17 is rebelling. Inside one of the cells, a prisoner is being beat to get answers- a guard walks in and shocks the torturer.

 Silus Amaranth

The air was thick with a chokingly acrid smell of cordite and blood, the metallic groan of the building and steady rhythm of drops hit the icy stone floor reaching very few ears. Silus sighed, he really hadn't wanted things to end like this did he? A gentle smile curled his lips and he shook his head, short cropped whitish-silver hair flicked back and forth to either side of his face. What was with the unruly people and their seething pride to break free and rebel? Couldn't they remember that before when they had their freedom, they were but badgers and coyotes  fighting over scraps. But there was no sobbing over spilt blood and crumpled bodies.

"Take them away," he said with a dismissive wave to an under ranking guardsman. The man's brow twitched and his cheeks drained of color but he swallowed his disgust. Moving over and grabbing the prisoners feet, he dragged the body with its bashed in skull across the floor to leave a large bloody streak where the man had been. Silus turned to the man who had been torturing the prisoner and let a small frown crack his uncaring mask.

"I said to torture the man wisely, not to do too much damage, not to snatch his life away, and certainly not to bash his skull in with your boot cause you bloody well didn't like his answers." Silus took a few steps towards the man who was crouched in the far corner, unable to escape no matter how much he twitched and eyed the steel door.

"Sir, please I beg your mercy and was only doin' what I was told ta'." Silus tilted his head and hooked his hands together behind his back, leaning near the mans face so that there was but a hands length between them.  While he should have been wearing his mask like a proper sergeant of the guard he wasn't seeing as his healths condition managed to scare the daylights out of people more than his uniform ever could. He was an albino, a white demon, an outcast amongst everyone. But then again, he didn't need anyone, he'd gotten his position on his own merits and so that would continue.

 The lights above in the room flickered and the ground trembled from a soft explosion outside the facility. Damn this man, and damn the resistance a small crackle from his radio that rested on his blindingly shinny belt. He picked it up and listened, nodding and sighing. He sent back a few hushed words to the voice on the other end before re-hooking the radio upon his belt. This torturer would have to wait, he had a much more pressing matter to attend to.

"You better start praying to whatever higher power you see fit," Silus said in a sharp tone, his eyes glaring at the man with venom and indignation. "Cause if I manage to get my hands upon that twig like throat of yours, I swear I'l snap it in half!" He grabbed the stun stick on the side of his belt and grinned, malicious intent burning behind his bloody colored eyes. The man hugged himself tightly and gripped his bloody lab coat nodding vigorously. Silus then turned on his heel and walked out of the room through the thick steel door, boots clapping loudly on the floor as he walked.

Cells filled with the scourge of the rebellion lined the facility and as much as Silus wished for the rebellion to be dead and done with it sure left him with many a man to deal with. Some brought up interesting challenges and he always was a man for a challenged, and that's where he was heading now. A prisoner, Alex Wright, he was someone high in the rankings of the rebellion though what his ranking was had yet to be determined. He scowled, someone had sent a torturer into the mans cell without so much as a note or a shout over their radio. His fingernails dug into the palms of his gloves but his face remained calm, an uncracking shell of cool collected thoughts.

The last thing he wanted was for this, Alex, to think that he was in control or that he had friends just because he was getting a free pass from this unannounced torture 'session'.  After a short walk down a long hallway, through the guard house rotunda, and down a long and winding flight of stairs...he was finally at the door. Peeking in through the small square glass viewport, he noticed the prisoner strapped to the table with thick leather belts and shinning metal clasps. The  man in his stark white coat toyed with a knife upon the prisoners cheek, putting tender pressure to earn the smallest beads of blood and what ever noises this resistance member couldn't quell.

Sometimes theses sessions could be quite entertaining, others they could be tedious and boring. Some, if you got the wrong man to do it... could be brutish and disgusting. A true waist of time, manpower, and his all to thinly worn nerves. This time it was wearing on him, word had been passed down that the rebels were planning something. Perhaps the destruction of the facility, or to break this man out... to be honest he didn't care what the sewer rats tried or wanted. He had his job, the only thing that had given him purpose and meaning... that was enough to sate him.

Silus pushed the door open, not pausing to utter a word as he drew the stun stick with no real flourish, just a gracefully powerful movement as he snapped the crackling electricity into the torturer's neck. The man didn't even spasm, his muscles clamping up, his brain shutting down, his eyes and jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder he didn't break his own bones. The torturer, probably in his late thirties, early forties, hit the ground with a sharp staccato thud, he was unconscious. Regrettably, he would also have to be tended to later.

His sharp eyes turned to Alex and he walked to the side of the table, leaving the mans wrists and ankles bound so that he wouldn't have to fight this ruffian. His wounds were nothing that couldn't be fixed, a few cracked ribs and minor cuts and bruising. Though walking and running would be difficult if not terribly painful. Perhaps it would keep this man from running.

Silus almost laughed at that, no one that had ever run from him lived... though his internal exuberance quelled when he noticed the mans eyes. Weary, worn, surely a man that had seen too much his share of combat and innocent deaths. For a sliver in time, he felt regret, guilt, pain for this man but it knotted away in his thoughts as soon as he registered his feelings.

"You're to come with me, Alex. You've been transferred to a facility outside City 17, it appears some of your comrades are being a bit...rambunctious. Don't want them causing trouble do we?" He wasn't sneering, or shouting, or even being rude. He was acting intelligible, calm, and reasoning. After all was it not the commanders job to care for those under his command?

The End

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