How many days had passed..? two...three... definitely not a week though. It felt like an eternity.
You find yourself growing weaker and weaker with each passing day; your once healthy body becoming frail as the days go on. Your arms and legs become too weak to carry you, leaving you stuck in this tiny cell. You try to think of how you can get out, but all that comes up are unanswerable questions. You start to become hopeless, thinking that no one will ever find you here. But deep down, something inside of you tells you that soon enough...you will escape this living hell. The moss and mud in the cell stank of rot and decay. Bitter and pungent like an old man's breath after a meal of rotten meat. The room smelled like an old tomb, filled with the musty odour of old moss and stone. The air was stale and smelled unbearably musty. You sit in the darkness and try to recall events that had happened before...but everything seemed so long ago. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of your cell, and you finally stood up after days of being bent over.
Taking a deep breath, you walked towards a small window near the top of your cell. Peeking outside, you noticed a small light, looming in the distance.You keep your eyes fixed on the light. You see a figure, holding something and slowly approaching your cell. You quickly move to the corner of the cell as the strange figure opens the cell door. The silhouette stops in front of you and you can now make out that it is a man wearing an old brown cloak and holding a small tray of food. You could barely make out his face. He scans you with a suspicious look, his eyes turning cold while looking at you; he doesn't seem to be pleased with what he saw.
"Peasant,"
He whispered under his breath as he placed the tray on the floor and aggressively pushed it towards you. The food on the tray spilled over the sides as it made its way towards you. The food tasted like ash, like a mouthful of smoke with a hint of sulphur and charcoal. The bread was like...nothing. It was tasteless and you were hungry, so you eat it.It tasted like dirt, but worse. The oil soaked bread was stale, and chewy. The meat was so raw, you could hear it sizzle in your mouth. The man stood in one place, watching you eat.
As you finished eating, you built the courage and asked the man who he was. He then slowly knelt down to your level, his face softening as he stared at you with a peculiar intensity. He had a soft face with a chiselled jawline and high cheekbones. His skin was like porcelain, smooth and shimmering in the dim light. His eyes were sharp and intense, but his gaze was gentle as he stared down at you. As his face came closer, you are shocked to find out that he was Scaramouche. The man who you had journeyed with many times, evaded different criminals and gangs alongside, and your so called boss.
"You cocky ass son of a bitch, did you finally come to rescue me or what?"
You spoke without thinking, raising your voice.
"Who are you calling cocky ass son of a bitch and why the hell should I rescue a peasant like you? How dare you think of me that low?!"
He fought, deeply offended.
"Okay, yeah, whatever, sorry my dear boss, get me out of here now please and I'll give you a neck rub or whatever."
You joked, trying to make the mood a bit less intense. But it seemed as you had failed since the next thing that came for you was a slap in the face. He slapped you. Hard.
"YO WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!"
"Look...I don't know who you think you are, but no peasant talks to me like that. Watch your words young lady or the next meal that will be served is you, roasted alive in this very cell."
He threatened, his voice full of anger. As you swallow the lump in your throat, Scaramouche stands up and key out of the cell.
"You better hope I don't come back here, or else you'll be lucky if death takes you fast enough and not too painfully."
He adds before walking away into the darkness and leaving you with shock. You can't believe what just happened. The hell was wrong with him? He had never acted that way, or at least you had never seen him act that way.
_____________________________________
Scaramouche
With a confident air and a self-assured swagger, he strutted through the countless twisting corridors and steep staircases that wound through the labyrinthine structure, each step echoing off the walls and filling the empty spaces with the rhythmic cadence of his approach. His footfalls reverberated like the beating of a drum, announcing his presence with a resounding authority that commanded attention and respect from all those who were fortunate enough to witness his grand procession. Although, he quieted down a few corridors as he reached Dottores lab. He waited behind the door, waiting. He could hear mufflued voices coming from inside. Dottore was having a guest...?
"Dottore, this was the 3rd time he went after the gnosis again like that...secretly. This is the last time i'm willing to forgive you. If you don't have him fixed this time i'm limiting you. Your last and final, third warning."
A woman spoke from inside. It was probably the Tsaritsa...wasn't it? Scaramouche had always known of the experimentations Dottore had done on him. Although some did work on Scaramouche... Dottore was still dumb enough to not finish his projects or skipping a few steps while doing them resulting on most of them not working out that well. For example Scaramouches hypnotization and memory shit and whatever Dottore did to him. Scaramouche remembered everything. And thanks to that...his plan worked. In just a few days, obtaining the top spot was right under his fingertips. All Scaramouche had to do was play along.
_____________________________________
Y/N
Days had passed since Scaramouche had left you in your cell, and you had given up all hope of ever getting out. Food was brought to you every other day by some guard named Rix who complained about his marriage as you ate. Although... a few times it was also delivered by Scaramouche, but he had opened the door and thrown your food in so fast that you couldn't count it as an interaction. The stale bread and raw meat had left you feeling sick, and you could barely keep it down. You sat in the darkness, feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what would become of you. As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, you suddenly heard a noise outside your cell. Footsteps.
You remained quiet, not daring to move or make a sound. Then you saw a faint light, growing brighter as it approached. The door to your cell creaked open, and in walked Scaramouche. He looked different, his hair unkempt and his eyes bloodshot. He walked towards you, and you could feel your heart racing. You didn't know what to expect from him.
"Get up. We're leaving,"
he said gruffly. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was some sort of cruel trick. But then you saw the key in his hand, and you knew that this was real. You stood up and followed him out of the cell, trying to keep up with his fast pace. As you walked through the dark tunnels, Scaramouche suddenly spoke.
"Best of luck,"
he whispered, his voice barely able to make out. He escorted you to a cramped chamber, where in the centre of the room was an intricate circle etched into the floor. He commanded you to stand in the middle of it. You gave him a face of concern as he left the room and locked it. A few seconds passed before you felt the floor start to move upwards, towards the ceiling. You tried to keep your balance, but the sudden movement caused you to stumble and fall onto your knees. Your heart raced as the walls of the room disappeared, revealing a vast expanse of darkness that stretched out before you. You gasped for air as the floor continued to rise, revealing a huge crowd of people. The crowd clapped and cheered but quieted down as the woman to your right started speaking. It was the same woman who commanded you to be taken to that filthy cell. The Tsaritsa.
"My dear people, please give this peasant who dared to oppose me another round of applause! We'll now reveal the truth...may this serve as a reminder from me, your beloved Tsaritsa, that nobody is able against me. And my intention isn't to threaten; rather, it's to remind how I protect those who are dear to me. My people."
The people cheered and applauded once again. For a brief moment, all was right in the world, and the Tsaritsa basked in the adulation of her people. But little did she know that the seeds of rebellion had already been sown, and that the cheers and applause were only a temporary reprieve from the storm that was about to break over her reign.
The Tsaritsa, dressed in her resplendent clothing and adorned with jewels, smiled at the crowd before picking up her beautifully jeweled sword and pointing it towards you. "You see, my dear people, it's important that we all remember our place in society."
As the Tsaritsa smiled and waved, a small woman approached you and handed you a flimsy copper sword. It wasn't sharpened either, it was so dull that you could barely slice a cucumber with it.
You knew what was coming next, it was time for you to fight. But before you had time to doubt yourself and your skills, you raised your chin high, determined that no matter what happens, you will not go down without a fight. You stepped forward, ready to face your opponent. With a menacing smirk, she charged towards you, brandishing her gleaming sword in a lethal arc. However, with a fluid grace that belied your strength, you sidestepped her strike with effortless ease. As she stumbled, momentarily flustered by your swift movements, you seized the opportunity to strike.
You lunged towards her, your own sword glinting in the dim light as you aimed for her back. Just as your blade drew near, she attempted to unleash her powers, but to her dismay, they failed. With a surge of exhilaration, you plunged your sword into her back, feeling the satisfying resistance of flesh and bone as it penetrated her defenses.