Chapter 15: 13 | punisher; chains and promises

[That is a creature whose pain promises answers]

——— xxx ———

A regular human often went overlooked in their life for their insignificant accomplishes and unnecessary actions. Only those who marked their name permanently into the history of reality could be remembered.

Now, for an NPC whose fate was to be nothing more than a passing remark, a creature solely created to help humans complete the Story, it was near impossible for any to leave a lasting impression.

But the one in Kane’s story left more than that, defying more its own destiny and rebelling against the story itself.

A prisoner that was set to be executed, yet could not be killed.

Distinct by his blood-red eyes, supposedly died with the blood of his first death, then drowned in the many more that followed. He became the one to aid Kane after taking interest, well aware of his role in the Story.

That was the other thing: self-awareness.

An NPC that knew more than humans, of the Stories and of the chaos that had begun. A lot of knowledge could be gained from communicating with that man, perhaps knowledge of the creature Wren sought vengeance on.

Elias smiled, arching a brow of curiosity as he leaned against the bars. “What are you thinking?”

“That you’re annoying.” retorted Lucas without missing a beat, still lost in his thoughts.

“Annoyingly handsome?”

“A pain in the ass.”

“That I can be, if you allow me.”

Lucas paused, glancing sideways coldly at the shameless face that watched him carelessly. 

He scowled, and decisively ignored all bothersome buzzing, making his way to the door of the cell. The chains limited him, but he nudged his foot to jangle the door violently, shaking the entire cell.

Pretty sturdy. Forcing his way out wasn’t an option, unfortunately, thought the man sullenly.

He rapped on the wall beside him, listening closely. There was nobody nearby either—it seemed his jail block was basically abandoned. An area for the worst criminals, maybe?

In the darkness, all he could hear was the quiet drip of water, from a leak somewhere down the halls, echoing. Drip, drip, drip. It continued in a constant, rhythmic beat and he thought he might go crazy if he spent too long here.

Well, considering everything, he would go insane, eventually. Just not here. Not now.

Not when his brother was still in the hands of an unfortunate destiny.

Elias noticed his actions and confirmed his thoughts quickly. “There’s nobody in the surrounding cells, or anywhere within this block. There’s a large, sealed off door at the other end of the hallway—I haven’t checked that yet.”

“Tell me important things sooner.” said Lucas impatiently.

“I thought you didn’t want to make a deal with me?”

“I don’t.”

“Then isn’t any information a gift of my pure kindness? Don’t I deserve a thank you?”

Lucas’ eyes rolled over him, narrowing sharply with irritation. There were some people who were naturally loud, obnoxious. 

For those, that personality trait was built into nature and although he couldn’t get along with them, he would simply ignore them and not engage.

This man was different. 

The slight curve of teasing eyes, and lips quirked into a mocking smile, every action laced with bored amusement—everything he did was purposeful, directed to specifically irritate Lucas.

How did he know? Because underneath the humour and casual acts, there was a simmering beast waiting to pounce.

And he felt the weight of that danger wrapping around his throat in the man’s mere presence. 

To the point that sweat prickled his skin, and goosebumps started to run up his arm.

Damn the naturally gifted, the naturally powerful. The predators destined to become either heroes or villains.

He shook the irrelevant thoughts from his mind—too quick was he to drift off into mindless daydreams. It was a bad habit of his, one his brother often would have to shake him awake from. 

It was ironic, actually, that the dreams came during the day when only emptiness followed his night.

“Find a way to open the door.” said Lucas unabashedly, gesturing to the door, then to his chains.

Elias fiddled the keys that hung at his belt, unhooking it and swinging it around long, sturdy fingers that were covered in scars. 

From what, and where, who knew? 

“What do I get out of this? You already rejected me once.”

“What do you want?”

A smile that told Lucas it was exactly what the other was waiting to hear. The man tossed the jingle of keys into the air lightly before his cerulean eyes curved. “I think you should address me properly, considering our respective roles?”

“I’ll hand in my resignation.”

“For what?”

“Being a prisoner and part of your gang.”

Why was it that no matter where he went, this annoying weed had a higher status than him? Lucas contemplated this with a frown, shaking his head at life.

“I’ll refuse both.”

Lucas squinted, barely making out the man in the dim trickles of light from the door at the other end of the hall, sighing. 

He raised his hands obediently, tilting his head to display a quiet sort of gentleness. “Won’t you unlock me, boss?”

Elias flinched, not expecting the sudden change of attitude. However, peering closely, the other’s eyes were dead.

Completely dead and indifferent. Not a smudge of emotion of genuine obedience.

“…..”

A brief chuckle sounded, before the key was inserted with a click, and the door swung open. Elias stepped through the door, gesturing for Lucas to come forward with his raised hands.

When they were facing each other, Elias lowered his head, dark strands brushing against the sharp angle of his jaw. He worked efficiently, testing several keys before the handcuff finally unlocked. Then he bent down onto one knee and opened his palm.

“Give me your foot.”

“…are you a pervert?”

“…..” Who’d have thought that his kindness would be met with reproach? He lifted his chin lazily and dangled a key in the air. “Do you want to stay in chains, darling?”

The man patiently waited on one knee as Lucas offered his foot, feeling as if he were giving up more than simply a leg. 

His dignity and pride, perhaps? 

However, since the man knew which key to use, he didn’t waste time and quickly unlocked the bottom chains.

Although Elias was a person who loved to mess around, he understood the urgency of time. Earlier, when he woke up in a guard uniform and was directed to patrol the ‘most dangerous’ cell, only to witness a deflated person emotionlessly calling for help, he decided to mess around for a bit.

However, he briefly remembered hearing that it would be mealtime soon, which meant they had little time before somebody would call them over.

“We have about ten minutes. Do you want to check the cell at the end of the room?”

Lucas nodded, flexing his wrists that now had a striking ring of red and purple from the tightness of the chains. Elias noticed, before turning his gaze away indifferently. 

A slight injury wasn’t something he needed to monitor.

They walked down the looming hallway, no life surrounding except the drip drop of water. Musky earth and mold penetrated the walls, creating an incredibly unpleasant sensation.

The hallway wasn’t very long, but the darkness made it seem to stretch out for hours.

Lucas stopped in front of the barred cell doors, a dozen chains locking it away from the world with a large, crumbling warning sign hammered into the side. It was a solid piece of metal, with a small slit near the top that allow somebody to peer in.

As he leaned in closer, a pair of bloody pupils popped out, staring at him.

Lucas stared back at the unblinking gaze that seemed to press against the narrow gap in the door. His heartbeat drummed, and just as the eyes disappeared, he slammed Elias against a wall.

The other didn’t have time to make a joke when a slim blade rushed out of the gap, slamming into the opposite wall with such intensity and strength, Lucas would’ve been killed instantaneously had he still be standing there.

A hole gaping through his face, most likely.

He waited for a few moments before walking over and violently kicking the door. 

Twice, for good measure, hearing a satisfying thump as the person leaning against it fell back onto the ground.

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“Did I do something to you? Attacking without introducing yourself, have you not been taught properly?” muttered Lucas, imagining the pain he could’ve been in and kicking the door once more with annoyance. “If you throw another blade out, I’ll flood your cell. Even if you can’t die, I’m sure you can feel pain, right?”

His biting words carried complete confidence and truth, making even ghosts tremble at his threats. 

Even if Lucas died, he would definitely fulfill his part of the deal, whether he had to come back as a ghost or not.

He wiped his hands on the loose jail pants, as if he touched something disgusting.

“…..” The ‘disgusting thing’ watched him wipe his hands silently. Elias paused, thinking that the other was undoubtedly annoying and, though fun to tease, a troublemaker not worth saving.

The bulging red eye appeared through the slit again.

Lucas seethed. “Well?”

A helpless and reluctant blink answered him, before a lisping sigh escape the narrow space. As if to say ‘you’re annoying’, which Lucas had no problem in admitting.

“I am the Punisher.”

A raspy, broken voice that had been torn to shreds numerous times and clumsily sewed together. The tone was a low timber, unpleasantly scratching the ears yet somewhat loud in the quiet. “What is it you want from me?”

“First,” Lucas leaned against the wall, tired of the interaction. “Do you have to press your eye so close? It’s damn creepy.”

“…..”

There was a click, and the heavy door creaked open slightly, revealing half a ghastly face and one large, deep red eye that seemed to be half melted, drooping down into the molted mess of their skin. “Is this better?”

“Worse.”

“…..”

Lucas waved his hand dismissively, deciding that although it was unpleasant to look at, he could kindly endure. In his opinion, faces were ultimately just an arrangement of features, slapped onto a canvas. 

“I have some questions to ask of you.”

The Punisher squinted, which made his face look for grotesque. “I can’t help you.”

“What if I survive my final execution? As long as somebody survives, you won’t have to die again, right?”

That was the melting, abominable man’s greatest fear.

Even if one were to die a hundred times over, that didn’t mean it got any less painful, or any less real. If somebody successfully escaped the Story, it would be shut for a long period of time and the Punisher wouldn’t have to succumb to death again.

Expectedly, a bitter scoff left the twisted lips. “There have already been three groups. Fifty people in each. All dead. You think too highly of yourself, and the arrogant are the first to perish.”

“I’m not arrogant, I’m self-aware.”

“…enough of your jokes. I will be the one in trouble if I answer you anything in here.”

“But if you answer them when the door in shut, nobody can hear, right?”

That should be a rule in this Story.

Those sent to the Punisher were, well, those sent to death. The ones that disobeyed and were to be punished, tortured until they were on the brink of death.

Since the only aim behind those doors was bloody deaths, it wouldn’t be monitored.

The Punisher hesitated, nodding a sloppy head. “However, anything that enters these doors must endure whatever I inflict on them. That’s the role I must complete.”

“Sure.” shrugged Lucas with a relaxed indifference. “You’ll promise to answer, then?”

As he spoke, the jingle of metal echoed down the dark hallway from afar—his hearing was especially good. He snapped his head back, glancing at Elias, who frowned at the increasing footsteps.

“Will you?” repeated Lucas.

The Punisher waited, seeming to be judging how desperate he was. Whether he’d value his own life or the answer to this question more, as the noises continued to rapidly grow closer.

However, Lucas didn’t flinch, keeping his soulless white eyes on the disfigured man readily. Determination reflected off the clear irises, free of colour. 

Strange, peculiar eyes.

Finally, in a short breath, he answered. “I will.”

The door clattered shut, and Lucas spun on his heels to jerk away, breaking into a sprint. Elias followed quickly behind.

The guards were right outside the cell block—they could hear them. Sense them.

Lucas threw himself into the cell, skidding across the floor as he snapped the handcuffs back over his limbs without a second to waste.

Light spilled into the area.

Creaaaaaak—!

Elias slammed the open jail door shut, leaning his head against it with a heaving chest. Lucas’ gaze flickered over to him before turning away, melting into the murky corners of his cell.

Three guards stepped in.

They’d made it by a hair’s breath—any slower, and they’d both have been done in. Elias grinned, the light beating off his back, and Lucas shook his head with a tired sigh.

“Hey! What’s with all the racket in here?” One of the guards shouted, banging his baton against the bars. Lucas noted the 107 that was printed on his shirt.

Elias straightened himself up, confidently leaning as he shrugged helplessly. “The prisoner was stirring up a racket, so I gave him a little scare.”

“Oh, really?”

“Take a look, he’s trembling.”

Lucas shot Elias a deadly glare that could likely wipe out a city, gaining a sly smile in return. However, when 107 approached, he scrambled to the corner and gathered his limbs to his chest.

Talking would be annoying, and honestly a waste of effort, so he ducked his head down instead, refusing to lift his head.

“Ha!” 107 scoffed, rattling the bars with a short laugh. “Ran away with his tails tucked behind his legs, ay? Not bad, new recruit! Keep up the good work!”

He slapped Elias loudly on the back with another hearty laugh. Lucas took a peek, noticing the dark expression cast over the man’s leisure smile. 

Unfortunately for him, no matter how he looked at the hand as if he wanted to cut it off, he couldn’t act out of turn.

Served him right.

Lucas coughed loudly, purposely trembling and letting out a half-hearted whimper that made all the guards laugh gleefully, slapping Elias on the back with pride and cheer. The parade of slapping was like music to Lucas’ ears.

“Really, really good! Keep it up, alright?”

Elias gritted out, “Yes sir!”

“Hahahaha, good, good! Now, dinner’s being served in the hall so drag that scared lil’ buddy of yours down, got it?”

“Will do.”

Lucas zoned out the chattering, glancing around his cell. With the light from outside the block, he could make out a few things a little better.

Strangely, despite the murkiness of the cell, it was relatively neat compared to the glimpses he saw of the others in the cell block. A neat pile of cleaning supplies, and towels fraying at the edges from harsh scrubbing remained in one corner.

He didn’t notice earlier, but a broken watch delicately rested on his right wrist, diligently cared for in this dirty prison. There were also red scars across his hands that he didn’t have before, fragile and broken flesh.

Did he gain these marks based on the role he had in the Story?

If it transferred onto his own skin, it was likely an important clue. That, or a distraction from the truth. The Stories liked to mess with people’s minds, tricking and wasting their time.

At least he wouldn’t die here.

This Story that he’d written about, the one his brother experienced, it was his own playing turf. If anybody could survive, it’d be him.

In 3 days, there would be a trial to announce the crime they were accused of. That was the first objective. It would wipe off those who didn’t realize the objective, or those who simply couldn’t discover their fake sins.

Then, in 7 days, would be their execution; the true objective. 

They needed to find the truth behind their crime and prove their innocence.

“Should we head out now?” Elias knocked on the bars, the other guards having long gone. He swung the door open, gesturing. And although his words were phrased like a casual question, Lucas had no doubt that it was more of a command. “Hungry?”

Lucas glanced at him, lifting his chained arms tiredly once again.

Whether this irritating boss of his would prove to be a hindrance or an aid, only time could tell. 

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