Keen Eyes

As the guards shoved Six back into his damp, dimly lit cell, he staggered slightly but managed to keep his footing. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him with a resounding clang. He rubbed his wrists, still sore from their grip, before leaning casually against the wall, his smirk returning.

From the adjacent cell, Purple's voice broke the silence. "What happened?"

Six glanced sideways, the smirk deepening. "Oh, nothing much. Just had a little chat with their... boss."

"Chat?" Eleven's skeptical voice echoed from the opposite cell. "What did you manage to 'chat' about?"

Six let the question hang for a moment, savoring the intrigue. "The Snow Queen," he finally said. "She's here. Locked up in this.... underwater fortress."

There was a pause, a visible change in the atmosphere.

"How do you know?" Red's voice was calm but tinged with disbelief.

'So he's in a talking mood now'

"I'm sure," Six replied, crossing his arms. "When I mentioned freeing the Snow Queen, the big guy's reaction said it all. He didn't need to confirm it outright, but he challenged me to set her free. They've got her. At least we now know why the voice tells us to free her."

Stone leaned close to the bars of his cell, his brow furrowed. "So, what now? If she really is here, how do we get to her, and what happens when we free her?"

"Let's be calm and think it through," Six said, his tone casual, though his eyes glinted with determination.

The group fell into silence, each lost in their thoughts and the weight of what waited settling in. Their path was clearer now, but it was fraught with danger, and every second counted.

***

When Six spoke to that boss—or king, or whatever grand title he claimed—his intentions weren't to provoke or infuriate the creature. He had learned long ago that confrontation wasn't always the way to get what you wanted, especially in hostile territory. Instead, Six had taken the opportunity to study his surroundings, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the throne room for weaknesses, exits, and patterns in the guards' movements.

The opulent yet eerie chamber, with its strange mix of coral and stone architecture, told him volumes about their captors' priorities and resources.

Thankfully, they hadn't knocked him unconscious on his way back to the cell. As they led him through the winding corridors, he took in every detail—the number of guards stationed at each corners, the strange symbols etched into the walls, and the faint hum in the air. He would need more time to study this place carefully, he couldn't just learn it all in one day after all.

Six opened his eyes and let out a quiet breath as the sound of footsteps grew louder. His deep thinking dissipated when a guard appeared at the bars of his cell with its keys jingling ominously. The guard unlocked the door with deliberate slowness, motioning for him and Thirteen to step out.

"Get out." the guard barked, with an impatient tone.

Six glanced at Thirteen, who stood up obediently, her expression unreadable. Together, they walked out of the cell.

The guards moved efficiently, unlocking the doors to the other cells in the chamber. Across from Six, Eleven and Stone exited their cell, their expressions betraying hints of suspicion. Nearby, Purple and Red emerged from the adjacent cell, their movements careful, eyes scanning the room.

Despite the cavernous chamber lined with countless cells, theirs were the only ones occupied. The empty silence, apart from the clinking of keys and shuffling feet, was unsettling.

'What do they want now?' Six wondered 'That guy was talking about punishment earlier, is it time?'

At the far end of the chamber, more guards waited with cuffs in hand. "Line up," one of them ordered sharply.

Six exchanged a quick glance with Eleven as they were herded together, their wrists bound in chains. The group was marched forward, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on their minds.

***

Six sat at the long, cold metal table, a bowl of whatever-it-was soup clutched between his hands. The steam rising from the bowl carried a faintly pungent odor that didn't promise much in terms of flavor. He stared at the alien delicacy with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, tilting the bowl slightly to watch the thick, gelatinous liquid shift sluggishly.

Around him, the others had similar bowls, their expressions ranging from resigned to outright disgust. Thirteen poked at hers with a spoon, as if expecting something to leap out. Eleven took a tentative sip, grimacing almost immediately, while Stone leaned back, eyeing the food as though it were a personal affront.

'It's not that bad, is it? It's food, right?'

The cafeteria was packed with alien creatures, each more bizarre than the last. The din of chatter and clinking utensils filled the space, a cacophony of unfamiliar languages and gruff voices. Some of the creatures were vaguely humanoid, but others defied any description Six could think of, with tentacles, translucent skin, or glowing eyes.

Purple and Red sat across from him, whispering to each other. Purple appeared to be analyzing the food's composition, while Red watched the guards posted at the edges of the room. Their gazes flicked toward the group now and then, ensuring no one stepped out of line.

"You think it's edible?" Six muttered, breaking the silence within their group.

"Define 'edible,'" Eleven replied dryly, setting her spoon down with a clink.

"It's all we're getting," Stone rumbled, picking up his bowl and taking a reluctant sip.

Six finally dipped his spoon into the thick liquid and brought it to his lips. The taste was...odd. Salty, tangy, and faintly metallic, with an unsettling texture that reminded him of slime. He swallowed it with some effort, feeling the warmth spread through his chest.

"Could be worse," he muttered, setting the bowl down.

"Could be better," Eleven countered, pushing her bowl away.

As they ate—or tried to—the noise in the cafeteria ebbed and flowed. Six couldn't help but notice the subtle tensions between some of the alien groups, the sharp glances and hushed exchanges.

This place wasn't just a prison—it was a powder keg waiting for the right spark.

And somehow, he and his companions were stuck in the middle of it.