IV: Abschussen im Dunkeln

[Nayt]

"Nah," the man shook his head.

Cyril had asked a total of two questions. First, if he could talk to someone. The second was more implied: if there was someone who currently wanted him alive. Unfortunately, the man was answering both questions at once. This was not going to bode well for him at all.

But honestly, how often did anything bode well for Cyril Shariph?

"Y'know, it's no big mystery why Gegar had you brought here," he began, before rolling his shoulders, "Kinda makes me angry I didn't think of it myself."

Because really, it was kind of brilliant. If only he'd thought of it before Gegar, then he'd be the one cashing in on this soon to be grand prize . . .

[Ramlock]

Cyril knew less now than he did when he knew nothing. Well, perhaps not entirely. He had a name. That was better than getting his head almost caved in like the last time he talked to someone here. Well, not here, either. He'd been taken somewhere. He did know things... Just not enough. At least, he knew "Gegar" was now the man who owned him, essentially. And Gegar was not this person, which meant Gegar had some sort of sway over him. Which gave Cyril a certain amount of power...

"Then enlighten me. What's this easy mystery? And why is it so important you wish you'd thought of it? Why am I still alive? You have plans to use me? Am I a hostage? Hell, are you planning to eat me?"

The questions just sort of flowed out as he thought of them. The last one was a joke... Mostly. Cyril didn't put it past anyone. Still, the more dumb he appeared, the more likely they were to let something slip. And the more helpless he seemed, the more power he might well have. Not that escape was necessarily his goal, here... Baht, and Tanner for that matter, might well wind up dead if he went missing...

"And why does Gegar want me while you're content to sit here on guard duty?"

Here was where Cyril felt out the more dangerous games...

[Nayt]

"Not quite," he said.

The man walked over to the door and folded his arms over his chest. Cyril wasn't going to be getting out with the way he was bound, but with the door still open, it was best if he made sure he didn't pull any tricks. Crazier things had happened before. Then again, this man was used to people of his race: people with power beyond themselves.

"Well, I mean-- I'm not planning on eating you. Gegar isn't, either," he rolled his shoulders again, "But the boss? He still eats humans. Which, and I'm kinda surprised you didn't guess it already, is why Gegar insisted we detain you here. With the revolution making headway and all, the boss doesn't get into your world to hunt. The way I picture it, Gegar wants more rations for his men, and what better way than to give the boss a little offerin'?"

Honestly, it was brilliant. And that was the whole reason he was here . . .

"See, though, the boss don't like to eat thinks with youth and vigor. Waste of a life, he says. He prefers things that're already dying or recently dead. Makes him a lot better than the other human eaters, I gotta say. But anyway," he cleared his throat, "Gegar had me here to put you down. I think I'm just gonna guard instead. Gegar's deliverin' food to the boss, right? Well, the boss finds the food's still got vim and vigor--that's bound to be insulting, y'know?"

[Ramlock]

That was the most simultaneously obtuse and brilliant plan... Except it was still likely to end in Cyril dying one way or another. This guy would probably end up doing allright, even if Gegar was killed or otherwise disposed of. Cyril couldn't help wondering for a minute if Tanner had intended this... But that was unlikely, really. Or maybe not. Cyril had known Tanner only a short time, but he had seemed an honest sort of thief...

"I see. So you're playing the game both ways. You deliver me, healthy, to the boss, and take out a rival... And I still wind up dead, one way or another. I sure as hell don't want to be in this chair when bullets start flying..."

And bullets flying were inevitable in a situation like this... Gegar certainly wasn't going to go quietly when the time came, and there was always a chance his guard and the boss were going to wind up at odds... All over Cyril, who was caught in the middle. And if Cyril didn't get eaten, he was still a target...

"That's a big risk, though, you know... Trying to use your boss to take out this Gegar guy. You..."

Cyril paused. He didn't need to convince the guard to go along with Gegar and kill him for the boss. That was counter-productive to his goals. Cyril needed something else...

"I guess I'm a bargaining chip by virtue of being tasty for your boss. But you know... Tanner and I made it this far alive. And this isn't the first time I've played politics like this. If you let me go... You've got an ally who is a complete unknown to all your rivals. Gegar sure as hell isn't going to expect that. I wouldn't mind not being eaten, for that matter. And I'd appreciate being out of this damn chair, too..."

Cyril could extoll his virtues more, but for now, he focused on hiding the headache and appearing youthful and vigorous, for lack of better terms...

[Nayt]

It was a little something like that, yes. One man was trying to get more than he was worth, this guy didn't like it, and he fully planned on sabotaging it in the most passive way possible: by simply not killing the prisoner and causing Gegar to inadvertently insult their boss. This man didn't exactly think it was going to end with Gegar being offed, but it'd certainly be embarrassing, and definitely teach him a lesson . . .

Nevertheless, Cyril's suggestion didn't sit too well with him. The man shook his head. Unfortunately for Cyril, he wasn't exactly willing to go that far.

"If I let you go, then I'm in deep shit," said the man, "If I just forget to have you offed, then Gegar won't have anythin' to back it if he claims sabotage, y'know? But if I let you go--well, he knows you're detained here and he knows you gotta get through me to get out. He'd be able to call sabotage, and that's a battle I really don't wanna fight right now."

"'Sides, even if all that didn't happen, I'd still at least lose this nice warden job," he motioned behind him, "You gotta have a good record for this job, and mine's 'bout spotless so far."

[Ramlock]

He didn't say no. That was the important thing. He just hadn't heard enough of the sales pitch yet. Or it wasn't the right time. Cyril briefly considering threatening to try to escape until this guy had to hurt him... Which would lead to Cyril getting eaten by the boss and this guy just biding his time. No, friendship was the tack. Not friendship... Partnership. That was closer...

"Like we couldn't make it look like I overpowered you or just slipped away... Humans can have powers too, you know. Hell, I could be capable of anything, as far as Gegar and this boss are concerned..."

Cyril didn't really give any sort of inflection as if he was trying to threaten this guy. That wasn't the intention. Cyril wouldn't offer his loyalty, and this guy would have to be stupid to believe any offer of such. But Cyril had very few allies, and even less information in this foreign environment...

"What's your name, anyway? And this boss? What exactly is going on around this city, too?"

The more Cyril could get of this guy's perspective, the better...

[Nayt]

In a brief flicker of light, spurred on by a momentary flash of heat lightning, Cyril would be able to catch a couple of details about this man. First, he was grinning. It was mostly Cyril's suggestion of him being overpowered by a human that brought that on. Secondly, he'd be able to see in that brief flash that this man was a mountain of muscle. He also had a maw on him that didn't look even remotely human.

"Jyre," the man said, "And the boss's Sinir. I really hope Tanner briefed you on him durin' the walk. He told me he did-- and, well, I like Tanner. I'd hate to have to break his other arm for lyin'."

"You didn't even have to break the first, jackass!"

Discounting that small, almost inaudible sound somewhere in the backdrop, the man--Jyre--decided to at least humor Cyril with a discourse on the current status of their City of Shadows.

"Lessee. How to put it for a human to understand. Actually, hell with it," he dropped his arms to his sides, "Let's just start with the basics. How much do you know 'bout us?"

[Ramlock]

Cyril, of course, didn't intend to overpower this beast of a man. Even on his best day, in the best circumstances, he was unlikely to do it, particularly without a weapon of some sort. Still, it wasn't unheard of. Someone like Eri, for instance... But no, Cyril had to try to survive using the best weapon he'd ever had: his mouth. And his wit, to a lesser extent.

"Jyre? Nice to meet you, I'm Cyril. I do wish we were meeting under... Well, any other circumstances."

Ropes were no excuse for being uncivil. Cyril didn't really need an excuse to be uncivil, but it didn't seem particularly useful to be so in this situation...

"Sinir is the enemy of my enemy. Or, really, Tanner's enemy, I suppose. I've been trying to be as inoffensive as possible since I wound up here. But anyway, Sinir's territory is safer for me... When he's not eating me, I suppose. What I know in general? I get that there are two factions here in this city, not that I really understand your struggles... No offense, but you seem like a surly bunch. A surly bunch that tends to be extremely strong. So far, you, Tanner, and Yuri are the only people I've met here who didn't try to kill me or bash my head in. And the jury's still out on you and Tanner..."

A bit of insulting could be a challenge... Maybe Jyre would rise to the occasion to try to be better than Cyril implied. Or he might beat Cyril half to death or all the way to death. Still, as long as there was talk, there was hope... Silence was likely going to be a death sentence...

[Nayt]

"Heh," Jyre grinned, "What do you expect? We're fightin' the established order, here. If we don't at least try the surly attitude out, we might as well use our tickets to hell now."

"Anyways, 'guess that means you don't know what we are?" It was a rhetorical question, one that Jyre proceeded to answer a second later, "We're shades. Or, well, used to be. See, there's this doctor-- a guy named Sturm. He took these shades, did some mojo, and boom. Look at us go, a few more steps towards human, 'cept we're not human at all. Just shades with definition and brains."

"And these-- these factions!" a voice called out in the distance.

This one, though, wasn't nearly as distant as the earlier one. The earlier one was almost inaudible. This one, on the other hand, had a nice echo to it. Not only that, but it was decidedly female. She was shouting and put a great emphasis of disgust into her voice . . .

"Just a bunch of . . . brutes! Brutes with no appreciation for the man who created them!"

Jyre grunted. "Not exactly," he said, though mostly to Cyril, "'Scuse me a sec. I need to go take care of that."

[Ramlock]

Cyril looked somewhat strangely at Jyre at this revelation. After a second, however, he realized that he shouldn't really be surprised. The things he'd learned just on the way here were enough to make him rethink everything he'd ever known... To think that all these people were really just shades who had been given personalities... Or manifested them? How did it work? Did those near-animals have personalities...? Of course they did. The little shadelings were proof enough of that...

"Is that tough to think about...? I can't stand the actions of some humans, much less looking at the actions of a shade..."

Cyril didn't really think too much of discussing philosophy with an erstwhile enemy. He didn't expect an answer really, but... Well, Cyril couldn't ever entirely trust someone descended from a shade. Or related... Or... Maladi? Cyril didn't really know what to think. He'd listened to a city get killed by shades, and hid away while it happened. And now, they seemed to be everywhere...

"Go ahead and deal with whatever is going on. Not like I'm going anywhere."

Cyril shrugged as much as the bindings would allow.

[Nayt]

Jyre didn't really wait on Cyril's acknowledgment. Really, he was just being polite. If there was anything he hated, it was excessive and unnecessary rudeness. Unfortunately for the young woman in the distance, that's what her outburst came off to him. Jyre shut the door behind him and made sure it was locked, before starting away. From that point on, Cyril was no longer able to see what happened, but he would certainly hear it clear as day . . .

Footsteps, at first. They were slow and steady and progressed away from Cyril's cell. Another door slowly opened in the distance, sending a shrill creak throughout the facility. A gasp followed, after which a series of lighter footsteps, slow and hesitant. They sounded soft. Shoeless.

"What'd I tell you 'bout keepin' your mouth shut?" Jyre's voice was soft, yet powerful as ever.

"Get away from me."

"I told you it was rude, didn't I?"

"I said get away from me, Jyre."

"And what'd I tell you 'bout bein' rude, huh?"

"Get aw--" there was a pause, a loud gasp, "Don't touch me!"

"Y'know, I told you when we first found snoopin' 'round here--that I thought you had a pretty face. Shame to put a mark on it, right?"

"A-- and-- and Gegar said I'd make a good-- a-- a good bargaining chip!" the was a hint of desperation in the woman's voice, "S-- so he said-- you wouldn't--"

"I don't think you and I are on the same page, girlie," there was a long pause, a momentary scamper of bare feet, followed in short by a hollow thud and a cry of pain, "I'm the prison warden. I don't take orders from no one but the boss. And you-- you and everyone else that's here?"

"J-- Jyre-- p-- please-- ow-- you're hurting me!"

"Every last one of you are expendable. No one would've put you here if you weren't."

[Ramlock]

Cyril sat in silence, listening to what was going on, seething somewhat inside as he got an idea what was going on. He wasn't the only human in the prison, it seemed... Or at least, not the only target of interest here. Jyre didn't seem very forgiving, in any case, which suggested human, perhaps. And at least personally... Cyril envied her apparent ability to walk around...

Still, listening, it was hard to tell what to make of his fellow prisoner. She was upset, which was reasonable, considering the circumstances. Could she be helpful, maybe? Cyril didn't really know. He'd have to ask her, perhaps. The lines between friend and enemy were essentially meaningless here in a city as foreign as this. He could just as easily be friends with his captor as his fellow prisoner. But another human would be a promising enough face...

Cyril didn't do anything aside from listen. It didn't make sense to try to fight yet. He had to know more... Or at least, get a better opportunity of some sort...

[Nayt]

"J-- Jyre-- s-- sto--" the woman sounded as if she couldn't breath.

"So what is it, Nia?"

"I-- I can't--"

"What's it take to shut you up, Nia?"

There was minimal light within the facility to begin with, but Cyril would see a flash of light from within it, somewhere away from his cell, yet powerful enough to pierce through the edges of the door. The flash was followed by the sound of something of a small explosion, ending with the sound of a hollow thud. There was a long period of almost silence, filled with the sound of desperate gasps and, beyond that, an extended chorus of murmurs. Thirty seconds of this ensued, until the feminine gasps settled down and normalized.

"You . . ." Jyre grunted, ". . . should not have done that, Nia."

The girl said nothing. What arose from her was inaudible. The murmurs were growing far too loud. Cyril would find it impossible to tell exactly how many other voices there were.

"That . . ." Jyre gasped, ". . . was very rude."

[Ramlock]

Cyril listened intently to the goings-on in the other cell, wondering just what the hell was happening... The obvious sounds, of course, were not good to think about. Prisoner, hostage, political foe, whatever she was, at the moment she was a trapped woman facing a violent and powerful man... A man Cyril didn't really want to tangle with.

Cyril didn't know exactly what had happened with the light. Still... One way or another, "Nia" had managed to at least anger Jyre with some sort of... Blast. Whatever had happened, he hoped Jyre wasn't coming back to his cell for a while. The collateral damage could be bad and Cyril wasn't in a position to resist even the slightest abuse, really...

However, the more he was learning, the less attractive Jyre seemed as an ally. Prison warden or not, there sounded to be a large amount of prisoners here, including one who had some sort of capabilities here. Between numbers and skill, Cyril was a bit more optimistic about his odds of survival at least. Besides... If he could somehow get Nia out, as well as the other prisoners, he could count on bonds of gratitude. The loyalty of an opportunist like Jyre had the perk of being predictable and reliable, but anyone else in this prison might owe him their freedom...

Cyril's own loyalty was no better than Jyre's, maybe. Or perhaps it was just slower. He was an opportunist, but he was still looking for Edii and Maladi...

[Nayt]

There was a long silence, broken only when someone far away shouted, "Kill him!"

"Kill the bastard!"

It was a chorus of shouts, all enthusiastic. All optimistic. Political affiliations did not matter in the least. Social affiliations mattered even less. "Nia" could have been the pariah of the entire city before this for all they cared, but right then and there, she was a ray of hope.

"You see what you've done, Nia?" Jyre could be heard, his voice booming.

"E-- everyone! P-- please, d--" she pleaded, "Please don't! Y-- you're just-- h-- he's going--"

"Put him down!"

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The prisoners did not quite down. In fact, there arose a sound of hollow thuds against doors and pounding all throughout the facility.

"Get us out of here!"

Despite the uproar, Cyril would be able to hear Nia's word's again. This time, they were small. Meek. Utterly terrified. "Oh . . . oh God . . . n-- no--"

Their sounds-- all of their sounds, the slamming, the shouting, the pounding, and even the quick breathing of Nia --were silenced in a single moment. There arose a terrifying note, a roar deeper than anything Cyril Shariph ever had the misfortune of experiencing. It was inhuman, yet it was beyond anything a lion, or even a shade, could naturally perform. Everything shuddered. The walls, the doors, ribs, teeth-- even fillings rattled and threatened to loosen. A trail of dust fell from the ceiling above Cyril's head. It was almost enough to drown out the ripping, the tearing, and the shrill scream that followed.

And in the wake of this, the prison fell silent. There were only two sounds that filled the prison, now: the sound of a slow dripping and soft, shocked sobbing.

The closing of a door echoed throughout the facility, and with all prisoners silenced, heavy footsteps resounded and warned of an approach to Cyril's cell.