Darkness. Darkness greeted the vision of the prisoner, as the a deep sense of grim reality fell upon them. They had been kept within the depths of the dungeon for more than a year. Wires ran along the floor as the prisoner tried to open their eyes, and could not. They were locked within their own body, imprisoner in a meat-bag of a body. So frustrated they were that their next groan slurred into a growl. Muscles tried to move, but only the throat would reply for reasons the prisoner could not figure.
“You going to give us what we want Eternal?” the question was languishing on the edge of the prisoner’s hearing. Suddenly, power came to their muscles, as the wires hummed.
“No, sierd your skettin mouth,” the prisoner replied. As violet eyes opened wide and took in the blinding light of the holding cell. A muscular lithe form bolted almost literally against the wall. Pain seared through the impaled limbs as the questioner, a woman, leaned closer.
“Give us what we want errant, give us access to the Anathema,” the woman smiled. A crue cut set over a smiling chesher face, with an over large nose. Lowborn likely was the inference of the mech-pilot turned prisoner.
“Sierd you,” the pilot replied as a tangle of greasy hair was moved around their head by the questioner.
“Fine,” the questioner said as they turned to face away from the pilot. The two forms were caught in the back drop of a moment. When without warning a high pitched wailing filled the air. An ongoing wom-wom-wom that vibrated near the the outskirts of the pilot’s vision.
“There’s no way,” the questioner said. Her form freezing as she turned on the heel of her finely shined boots. The wailing continued as something came flying out of her peripheral vision and impaled her to the wall beside the pilot. Slowly another form entered the vision of the pilot, a small diminutive young looking lad with a large gem-like device set in his forehead.
“Took forever to find you,” The young lad told his master as he reached forward toward the techno-bolts imprisoning the pilot.
“Took you skettin long enough Bozz,” the Pilot replied after they were freed. Long lanky hair moved beside the pilots face as they removed the sonic blade where it stood in the chest of the now dead questioner.
“Lets get out of here, I’m done with House business,” the pilot slurred before they walked out of the room with the small lad in toe.