Nothing But Secrets (Eckhart_Von_Musel)

[quaggan]

 No answer was provided - the only guard barely visible through the darkness didn't even seem to register his question. Perhaps she took her job seriously enough that she wouldn't even hear a prisoner's words; or, more likely, she was lacking in the department of languages and would sooner understand a thought process of a cat.

Fortunately, Basil was not left at the fish's mercy for long. A few minutes passed before another guard entered the dark hallway, carrying a lantern - a rare sight here. The woman immediately leaped towards him, pulling her weapon free. A quick exchange of words in a strange, foreign language took place - neither of them attacked another, but there was clear tension in the dusty air. After a heated exchange, the stranger left in a hurry while the guard took position by the entrance, drawing her weapon.

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

The food looked disgusting, but Basil hadn't eaten in a few days- he'd vehemently refused to. The boy's stomach growled against his will as he gingerly poked the fish with his finger, holding back a gag. "Ewwww... Do you savages not have anything better?"

No response. Feeling annoyed (as well as scared, anxious, lonely, and confused), the boy peered through the cell bars to see what appeared to be a heated argument between two of the guards. After a minute, one of them fled, and the other drew a weapon. Basil didn't understand what had just happened, nor did he care- all he wanted was to be given real food.

And to go home.

Especially to go home.

[quaggan]

 Several words descended the stairway, echoing against the walls. The guard's body relaxed almost imperceptibly, but she still kept a hand on her weapon. technical level - some of the people within him were conceived and given life to by playwrights, the rest honed by experiences of life itself. He wondered idly what would happen if he were to meet one of the people he collected. He hoped that he would get to compare his Soon, more people showed up, all wearing some sort of a variant on what little could be seen of the woman's amour. Their hands were full of what could be best classified as equipment: strange weapons, lanterns that illuminated the harsh interior to an unseen before point, one held a tool that he began to operate into the lock but didn't look like any key a sane person would use. It did not seem that they were sent to replace the odious fish with something edible.

One of the people stared at Basil. His mouth moved, but the words that came out of it were incomprehensible. He repeated it several times, finally - by chance or providence - arriving upon badly accented Serenian. "We go. Moved." He continued with his litany of alien words. It was obvious that he had no idea what would work, and was making the best of his limited vocabulary in a trial-and-error method.

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

Basil winced as his hunger overrid his disgust, picking up the fish with his thumb and index finger. He slowly lifted it up to his tongue, reluctant to even taste it....

The sound of footsteps caused the boy to freeze, and he glanced upwards to see a group of guards in strange outfits approaching his cell. His heart jumped as he saw them unlocking his door, and he quickly stood up straight. One of the men spoke in a strange language he'd never heard before, then followed up in Serenian. "Home?" Basil said quickly, cutting off the man before he could speak further. "Moved back home?"

[quaggan]

 If several barely pronounced words made a spark of hope flare up in Basil's heart, he was set up for a bad disappointment. The man just stared, either struggling to process his words or trying to find a way to make the obstinate kid move. Fortunately, not all of his co-workers were equally lacking in imagination and common sense. One of the women accompanying him just snarled in frustration and grabbed the boy's arm, pulling him outside the cell. Taking advantage of the momentum, she pushed him in the direction of the stairs. Some of her companions were already there, weapons drawn.

From the outside, there were audible sounds of fighting. They were distant enough not to give any information, but close enough to put the guards on edge. Some of them gestured to the lantern, covering his eyes. As several others followed suit, blocking their sight with forearms or pulling their head wraps over it. The woman who pushed Basil extinguished the lamp, the only source of light in the dungeon. At her word, the others opened their eyes, hopefully accustomed enough to the darkness to make their way to the exit. They surrounded the boy tightly, slowly moving towards the staircase.

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

Basil flinched as one of the guards shoved him, forcing him out the cell door and towards a flight of stairs. As he was jostled in the direction the guards were heading, is quickly dawned on ghe boy that he likely wasn't being taken home. "There's a fight outside!" he thought, heart racing. "Somebody is here to rescue me! That's why I'm being moved, so they won't be able to find me!"

As the light from the latern was extinguished, the boy made his move. He kicked at the shins of the guard ahead of him, and would use the resulting confusion to attempt to slip into the darkness behind them...

[quaggan]

 Basil's valiant effort was rewarded with a cry of pain. His victim crumpled down, holding tight onto the damaged shin. The other guards, alerted by his shout, spun around to face the unexpected threat. Some still stared towards the darkness, weapons at the ready as if waiting for another attack. As the stream of presumed curses spilled from the mouth of their wounded comrade, one of the women finally caught on.

She spoke in curt, simple sentences, likely not wasting any words. Basil's target finally rose, his movements slow. While his expression couldn't be visible through the wrap on his head, his anger was bubbling in his eyes. He raised an arm, but before he managed to bring it down upon the attacker, the woman grabbed it. The others, now informed of the situation, began to cast glances at the boy, no longer seeing him as a passive cargo to be conveyed from one place to the other.

The guards began to tighten ranks around Basil, cautious not to let him escape or attack again. The victim moved to the rearguard, unwilling to take any more kicks. His fist was still tightened and twitching, but he took no more swings at the boy. Apparently they were forbidden to do him unnecessary harm.

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

No luck. While Basil's kick had connected, the guard's cry of pain hadn't been enough to distract the others. The quickly formed ranks around him before he could attempt to flee, while the guard he'd struck turned to face him. Basil's eyes widened as the man lifted his arm to strike him, and didn't relax them even when the blow was stopped by the other guards. "I can't fight them..." he thought as they began to move again. "I can't fight them, and I'll never see my family again!"

At that precise moment, something inside of Basil broke.

[quaggan]

 The guards kept casting glances at their prisoner, but no other attempts at escape were made. It was not enough to relax them - the threat of an attack was still hanging over their heads. They finally reached the door atop of the staircase - a rather average wooden plank. The colour, texture and age of lumber would be hard to estimate without any light.

There were sounds of fighting coming from closer nearby, yet still muffled and distant enough to remain a concern rather than an immediate threat. One of the guards manipulated something hard to see on the wall, while another pushed at the door. It opened to a small room so cluttered with crates, boxes and containers whose shape and nature was hidden by the darkness; that it was nearly impossible to pass through. There was no windows to be seen across the stone walls. Once the final man passed through, he pushed the doorway shut. From the outside, it was covered with enough mortar to be indistinguishable from the walls.

The guards carefully filed into the room, moving with extra caution in order not to jostle any of the clutter. Even the group surrounding Basil was forced to change formation from a tight circle to a frustrated line. Most of them followed the winding path through the warehouse towards an exit veiled in darkness. Finally, the woman standing behind the boy carefully pushed him forward, indicating that it was time for him to go.

[Eckhart_Von_Musel]

"Why did I have leave the house?"

Basil faltered slightly, only picking up the pace again when pushed. He looked forwards blankly, tears welling in his eyes. "It's all my fault..." he thought, mind fuzzy with fear. "I didn't listen. Why didn't I listen?"

The noises from outside were getting fainter with each passing moment, and soon the boy could hear nothing but his own footsteps...

[quaggan]

 The guard group assembled in front of the door - to the best of their ability, considering how tightly packed the warehouse was. The man closest to the door put his ear to it and listened intently for something. He didn't look all too satisfied when he finally pushed it open, but the others trusted his judgement enough to keep moving.

Outside was the domain of the night. The sliver of the moon hanging in the sky provided barely enough light for them to move about in the labyrinth of walls and alleys. The route the guards have chosen led them out of sight and away from any people that might have lived nearby. The only sign of life was some skittering movement there and then; probably the local animals. Some of the men were casting worried glances at every flickering shadow, but at least in this aspect, their paranoia seemed not to be warranted.

Every now and then, the captain in charge lifted a hand to signal one of the men to scout ahead for something while the rest waited for their report. Most of their communication was done by signals and motions, barely discernible in the darkness. Sometimes, their leader's commands were completely unnoticed, to the point that he had to pick someone and put his hand against her face or arm to convey his will if not through sight then through touch.

It was difficult to measure time, so late in the night and with the moon hidden. Not even the guards escorting their prisoner knew how long it took to finally make their way in the labyrinth of alleys and buildings. Their destination looked like nothing out of the ordinary, certainly there were no distinguishing features for them to tell it apart from any other structure of firm walls and closed doors. And yet, something was recognizeable enough for the captain to end their journey through the shadows and begin to fumble at his belt for a key.