Prisoner (Ryuma)

WHAM!

Ryuma's face lurched to the side as the force of the blow struck him right in the cheek bones. The taste of iron filled his mouth. He spit off to the side to clear some of that blood out of his mouth. An action that was the only one left to him.

His hands were chained together high above his own head right up against a dark and murky stone wall. He had no clue where he was, but he remembered how he got there.

That damn drinking game.

His face was bruised, and his eye was black. Surely, he could take a punch but to do so for this long with barely any brakes in between. Even this started to wear on the soul.

"So tell me Skylander… How do you know about Eren?"

Ryuma was breathing hard but stayed silent.

"You don't want to answer? You're a tuff cookie I'll give you that," The man said.

He was a big burly man. He certainly had the muscles for this kind of job. Why he was doing this over Eren was the question.

Whatever the case, Ryuma knew not to give them an answer. At least not as of now. Once they get what they want from him, what was to keep them from killing him?

First and foremost, he had to guarantee his survival.

Ryuma continued to pant. "Where's Kosha,"

The guard backed and fell on his seat. He began panting as much as the kid he assaulted before him.

"You're made of tough stuff to be worried about some other brat. Don't you think you got your own problems?" The man asked.

"Where's Kosha?" Ryuma asked a bit more forcefully.

"Doing a lot better than you are, Skylander," The man said.

He figured that was the case. These people had a bias against him for being from the Skylands. Moreover, he was a priest of the Skylands. How much of that did they really know about him?

"This could all end as long as you tell us what we want to hear," He coerced.

"By all, you mean my life as well," Ryuma said. The man frowned. "I don't suppose after doing this, you're all willing to just set me free to live my life,"

"We'll make it quick,"

"Yeah, I thought so. I'm not saying jack shit," Ryuma said.

"There's not a lot of ways out with you living boy. Not giving us what we want isn't winning you any brownie points," He said.

"Fuck ya points. I'm a spiteful little shit," Ryuma said. If he were going to have to die over reasons he couldn't fully explain, then why would he give them what they want in the end?

This was mostly a game of psychological warfare. A game in which his perseverance over the man's patience was the two competing forces. Sadly, the other party held all the advantages. Not only did Ryuma constantly have to suffer pain, but the other party could also just rotate members as soon as they got tired. He was up against multiple people.

"Tell ya what. You undo these chains and I'll tell ya everything you want to know," Ryuma said.

"You know I can't do that,"

"Then please kill me so I can take my secrets to the grave with me," Ryuma said.

The man huffed and put his elbow on the table. He began tapping on it in thought. No doubt he was thinking what it was he could say to sway Ryuma to talk. The kid saw further ahead than the immediate problem. That alone caused them a ton of headaches. If he already anticipated they'd kill him after obtaining the information, then essentially, Ryuma held all the cards. As it stood, all they could hope for was to torture the confession out of him.

Even if they did manage to do that, then who knows what information he'd feed them. He could end up feeding false information out of spite.

It was then that the door behind them opened. In walked another guard. It was about time. Periodically, there'd be a change in shifts.

With no light coming in, he could never tell when it was the day shift, or the night. The only clue that he got was that he only saw a maximum of four of the same people. At most, they must be working in six-hour shifts for a full day schedule. He could only speculate but that was the only thing he had to go on.

"Spotting,"

It was the only word he said before the man stood up and began walking out the door. It was only one word. They must be taking care not to say each other's name before him as it was only these one-word sentences, they'd say when shifting position.

"Have you gotten anything out of him?" The next one asked.

"Nahh… the kid is tightlipped,"

"Well we must find a way to crack this bird open. Grandma will be here shortly," The man said.

"Grandma! Maybe that's exactly who we need,"

"You need not worry about that. I'll get him talking," The man pushed up his glasses as he said this.

"Well good luck on that. Hopefully, you don't find the kid's willpower to be as stubborn as I did," The burly man said before seeing his way out.

"That's the problem with these muscle heads. They think they can just brute force their way around every problem," The next man looked at him. "You're a smart one. I imagined you figured out early that some things in life needs planning, preparation, intellect,"

Ryuma only stared at him. He could tell the man wasn't truly complimenting him. He was both mocking his position and threatening him. This man was far from an ally.

"And how is it that you solve your problems," Ryuma asked.

"Oh you needn't stress yourself over the details," He went over towards the counter and put on some gloves. He couldn't tell what was over there, but just one look he knew he was dealing with some sort of drugs this man was cooking up. From glass flask to Bunsen burners. It looked like a science experiment was going on over there.

He poured some liquid into a syringe and squirted a bit of it onto the floor.

"I have a feeling you're not the most ethical guy around," Ryuma said.

"Some would make such claims. However, those claims are quickly overlooked when I bring about results,"

The man turned around smirking fully as if he won before he even began.

"I don't know what that thing is, but you're not sticking that into me," Ryuma said.

"Relax. This is just something to calm you down. Make you recall memories," The man said, inching closer.

"I said, get that thing away from me!" Ryuma desperately struggled against the chain to no avail. Last thing he wanted was to be injected with something he knew not the side effect of.

"Please stand still. You're veins are small enough as is without you thrashing about. Any further resistance and I will have to restrain you further to get what I want," He said.

{Wind Artes}

It was the last thing he thought before blacking out again. He couldn't tell how much time had passed this time. He slowly started to wake back into consciousness.

What had gone on? Was he drugged?

His vision started to focus. The room was in shambles. The desk was knocked over. Paper was everywhere. He was still chained up against the wall.

The guard that was watching him before he passed out was now on the floor. Fresh blood pooled under his head. Some of it having dripped off the corner of the desk where it was sharpest. Instantly, Ryuma knew what might have happened. He used what little energy he had to unleash a wind attack. The man must've crashed headfirst into that desk.

Ryuma looked at him. The lack of life told him all he needed to know. The man must have died when he struck the desk. Shit, he might have died when he bled out unconscious. Either way, it was his wind powers that did it. Doesn't seem like anybody heard it happen as nobody had come all this time. It was the beginning when his shift happened so nobody was likely to come.

Which begged the question. How long was he out this time? No matter how he saw this, how could anybody look at this situation and deduce that he didn't mean for this to happen. Ryuma looked around to see what he could use to escape.

He heard footsteps down the hall outside the door they were just in. "Fuck me…" There wasn't any time to change anything. If they didn't leave him so malnourished, he could have done something with his wind.

He looked around desperately. Something… anything to have a plan about this.

The door to their room creaked with every pressure applied to the door. Ryuma knew, that in only mere seconds… he was fucked.