(Libertatem 1, 59 / 3:02AM)
The sounds of chains can be heard.
(Jerry’s thoughts) Huh … what…
His hands didn’t move an inch towards his parched throat, keeping them motionless to the cold flooring.
His feet and legs didn’t have the inner strength to push himself forward, his calves glued to the dusty floor that he sat down upon.
His hands and arms barely budged an inch, as if he was glued onto something…
Slowly looking upward, his arms and hands instantly regained their senses, his wrists cold and tightened under a ghostly material that kept him out.
(Jerry’s thoughts) Are … are these …
His vision barely able to see what was in front of him, his blurred eyes saw a black metal wrapping around both his wrists. Not only that, but he barely saw a long piece of metal reaching the top of the ceiling, a chain-like metal keeping him contained.
His barely breathing chest started to tighten under the sharp breaths he took, it started to stab him from the inside, his lungs pushing themselves onto his ribcage.
(Jerry’s thoughts) What happened…
His legs starting to regain their sense of motion, he quickly put both feet onto the cold floor, his boots plastered and old as he tried to push himself off the ground.
But he landed on the cold floor again, and his stomach burned him as blood trickled out of his liver region.
(Jerry’s thoughts) Ah! Shit!
His stomach twisted and churned as the insides of his body started to turn onto each other, lighting up a burning fire inside of his abdomen. Opening his mouth wide, he let out a low monotone groan, clenching his eye shut as his eyelid started to hibernate within his eye socket.
The pain burning inside of him even more, Jerry arched his body forward, his hands and arms high in the air as the blood from his hands started to numb from the lack of oxygen.
(Jerry’s thoughts) Just where the hell am I?!
(???) I’ve seen you’ve awakened, Jerry Phillips.
His head turned frantically to every corner and cranny that he could see.
The voice itself caused shivers to run down his back, his body completely ignoring the burning pain from his stomach, followed by his face letting droplets of cold sweat run down onto the cold rusty floor.
(Jerry) W-Who are you!? Show yourself!
Letting out a shaky yell from his raspy throat, Jerry moved his body so that his back was against the wall, his black leather jacket rubbing the rusted walls of the building.
His ears didn’t pick up a voice again, the cold and desolate industrial building going dead silent as if an apex predator was nearby…
But then—
A man with a gray hoodie can be seen in the distance, his hoodie covering his face as he has his hands inside his pockets.
Widening his eyes on the man, Jerry opened his mouth softly as his breath was caught inside of his throat, his chest stopping the extra air from coming out. The shackles from his hands clanking onto each other, Jerry started to fidget as the hooded man kept walking towards him.
(???) There’s no need to be scared. This is a normal reaction upon seeing two paths…
The cold chilling voice reverberated the entire building again, the rusted walls and floor loosening its oxidation as bits of rust fell onto Jerry’s hands.
But there was something off with the hooded man and the cold voice.
Squinting his eyes towards the hooded figure, Jerry saw a glimpse of his lower face as he noticed the unusual youthfulness of the man’s chin.
The gray-hooded man then towered over the eyepatch elf shackled in chains, his eyes and upper face covered in the low-hanging hoodie that he wore. His black sneakers were inches away from Jerry’s old and worn-out black boots, the hooded man crouched down to where he could see him eye to eye.
And by just barely glancing at his face…
He had a youthful one, most likely the same age as Miles.
(???) Jason, free him. You’re strong enough if he goes berserk, no?
The voice chilled through the rusty air around him again, Jerry let out a huge gulp as he saw the gray hooded man lean over him, his hands extending towards Jerry’s hands that were handcuffed. Feeling the man’s hands to be smooth and well-conditioned, Jerry looked up as the man had with him a key.
Jabbing the keyhole in between the shackles that kept him bound, the shackles managed to be dropped onto the stone floor, landing behind him.
Putting his hands and arms motionless on the ground, he used his feet to help him slowly get back up. Standing with his hands and arms motionless, he turned his head towards the gray-hooded man, his height several inches higher than Jerry's.
Putting his hands back into his gray hooded jacket, the hooded man ignored him as he made his way back towards where he came from. Extending his hand outward, Jerry let his body take a slight lunge forward as he let out a little yelp from his throat.
(Jerry) W-Wait!
His right hand was still in the air, being perfectly still, his stomach started to burn again, this time being more of an annoyance than torture. Putting his left hand onto his abdomen, he caressed it with his rough fingers, his lips being puckered up into his mouth.
(Jerry’s thoughts) And who is he? Come to think of it…
Jerry then looked all around him, the darkness of the dimly lit industrial building making him let out a bead of sweat roll down his forehead.
(Jerry’s thoughts) Am I in an industrial building?
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His eyes looking all over the rundown abandoned building, the back of his hair went up, his body remaining still as he—-
(???) I think I should make my introduction more clear from the start.
Jerry flinched as he turned his head rapidly to the voice behind him, the cold voice that he heard from the beginning.
With his own eyes, he saw a figure that looked abnormally dressed.
His hair was a light green, his eyes enlarging as he had on oval-shaped glasses. He wore a white robe that resembled a priest, as well as wearing simple black crocs that had many holes on top of his feet.
He had many wrinkles upon his forehead and cheeks, his chiseled face and jawline unusual for a man in his mid-50s.
(Jerry’s thoughts) What the hell!? Just what is he?!
Jerry took many steps back as the man in the white robe had his hands and arms folded into his robe sleeves, his arms seeming like a particular villager in a famous survival game. Pushing his face upward, the old man lit up a devilish smile, the corners of his lips reaching to the height of his ears.
Which caused Jerry to instantly yank out his sword that was holstered onto his thigh, the tip of the sword pointing directly at the old man.
(Jerry’s thoughts) He’s the same man that Jenny and Loraine bumped into? The description matches.
Pulling out his right hand that was trapped in his left arm’s sleeve, he used his pointer finger to pull down his glasses by an inch, using his normal eyes to look into Jerry’s stance. Swaying his head from side to side, he let out a huff of air out of his lungs.
(???) There’s no need for you to pull that sword out.
As the cold and clean air hit Jerry’s face, smelling the old man’s mint breath that was filled with toothpaste and gum. Squinting his eyes, he took a step back as his legs were on the verge of buckling, his sword trembling as the metal started to ring across the building.
(Jerry) Are you the leader by any chance? Are you the one who led the attack on the city?
His hands trembling, he gripped the helm of his sword unsteadily as he looked directly at the old man’s eyes, seeing his green eyes stare into the depths of his soul.
The old man did nothing but sway some hair out of his left eye, his straight green hair blocking a minor part of his left eye. Putting the other hand onto his chin, he quickly tapped it back and forth, his nails barely digging into his old and wrinkly skin.
(???) Well, do I look like a priest or a boss? Don’t answer that, that’s too much of a weird question to answer.
Putting both of his hands together back into the other arm’s sleeves, he tightened it around as he didn’t show his arms or hands. Tilting his head to the left, he cleared his throat as he straightened his back, his well-defined chest puffing out towards the elf with the eyepatch.
(???) My name is Lazaros, Lazaros Roosevelt.
From in back of him, Jerry’s ears perked up as he heard the rumbling of many footsteps closing in on him.
Unable to look back, the only thing that his eyes focused on was the old man, the tip of his sword starting to shake as his palms started to stain the stainless metal. Continuing to hear the thumping of footsteps, he barely glanced to the right and left of him, trying to distinguish at least a basic figure that was behind him.
The old man saw this and let out a soft chuckle, placing his right hand over to his mouth as he let out a playful smile.
(Lazaros) It’s ok, Jerry. I told them that they wouldn’t bite.
Jerry soon started to turn his head towards the thumping behind him.
Upon seeing it with his very eyes, his eye let out a teardrop as he dropped the sword with both of his hands, the metal clanking onto the cold rusted floor.
(Jerry) N-no way…
Gemma, Ryan, Pedro, and the lich girl Mia were all staring at him.
Next to them, Kenichi and two black hooded figures also looked towards him, with one of the black hooded figures he recognized immediately.
But what about the other one?
(Jerry) What is this!?
Jerry sprang his body up, seeing the liches and humans alike being near each other as if they were friends. Not even looking at the bottom of the floor, he couldn’t glance for even a second at the sword that lay right near where his right foot was.
(Jerry) What the hell is this!?
His voice quivered, his Adam’s apple jumped repeatedly…
He couldn’t even muster up his voice.
(Lazaros) What? Cat-human got your tongue? You know some of those people right?
Leaning his head near his ear, Lazaros was behind him as he placed his left hand onto Jerry’s left shoulder, letting out a devilish smirk in the process. Placing his right hand onto the back of Jerry’s head, he placed it on the parietal and occipital parts of his head.
Caressing his fingers up and down along his skin and hair, his low fingernails managed to itch the innards of his head, causing Jerry to move his hands shakingly.
As he couldn’t tilt his head to the back of him.
(Lazaros) Don’t you remember? You see those two liches that you trained? That lich you used to be buddies with? And something else?
(Jerry) Something what?
Lazaros’s fingers started to dig evermore as if he knew the parts of the head as his fingernails started to dig into the bone of his skull. Blood pouring out underneath, Jerry clenched his eyes shut as he started to clench his jaw shut from the pain.
(Lazaros) Ah, forget it. It’ll be shown later.
Lazaros let go of his head and left shoulder, walking around him as he then turned his body towards Jerry.
In Jerry’s vision, Lazaros was in the middle of all the liches and humans that looked towards him, creating an image of pure chaos and fear as Jerry’s breath was still stuck in his throat.
(Lazaros) Say, Jerry.
With his right hand, Lazaros pulled out a large bottle of hand sanitizer, pushing the lid as the gooey liquid came into contact with his left palm. Putting it back into his pocket, he quickly rubbed the liquid steadily and deeply, his eyes peering through every corner of his hand as his cheeks started to tighten.
Shaking his hands softly to dry them off, he turned his attention towards Jerry.
(Lazaros) I’ll make you a deal, a really good one as what you’ll call it.
______________________________________________________________________________
(Libertatem 1, 59 / 3:07AM)
Lazaros walked towards the elf with the eyepatch slowly, having both of his hands and arms inside of his sleeves as he thumped the cold rusted floor.
Despite being shorter than Jerry by a couple to a few inches, his presence and aura were enough for Jerry to let out a load of sweat from his face. With a couple of droplets crashing onto the cold rusted floor, Jerry started to pant hard as Lazaros looked up at him.
(Lazaros) You can join us and become something more than just a simple elite soldier. You will be processed but it’s for the best. Or…
Lazaros then put his right hand onto the frontal lobe of Jerry’s head, his fingertips all exactly placed on each area of the front of the brain. As if he knew where to place each finger, Lazaros started to squeeze it a couple of times, his low fingernails already stabbing the skin and bone of his head.
(Lazaros) You could just simply not join and get either a lobotomy or a thrashing. Your choice.
Jerry remained still, his legs and feet not corresponding as his heels were lodged onto the industrial floor. His right arm and hand contained the sword that was pointed towards the ground, he started to shake it as his mouth was agape.
While his breathing started to quicken evermore, his hot breath reached Lazaros's face, causing him to slightly arch his head back in return.
(Lazaros) And if you also join, you’ll get access to the best hygiene stuff, so really think about it.
Jerry looked down towards his sword that he held with his right hand, his fingers loosening the grip as the tip of the sword reached towards the rusted ground.
Not looking up towards Lazaros and the others, Jerry put his left hand over the eye that didn’t have on the eyepatch, placing it firmly as he clutched the area tightly with his fingernails. Digging into his skin, both his eyes remained shut off from the world, his sense of seeing gone from him as he got lost in his thoughts.
Lazaros pulled his hand out from Jerry’s frontal lobe, leaving behind five red finger marks that were latched onto his skull.
(Jerry’s thoughts) What’s going to happen to me? If I … If I…
(Lazaros) Think long and hard about this Jerry. What do you gain if you remain with The Dark Angels? And what do you gain if you come with us? Try to think about the benefits here.
But his ears perked up at the sound of the old man’s voice, a sniffle coming out of his nose as the eye that he blocked with his hand started to water out.
Turning his body to the right of him, he kept to himself as the sword on the ground imaginatively rang inside his ears.
His fingertips reached out toward the grip of the sword despite his body remaining frozen-like.
Would he survive?
Or would he die?
(Jerry’s thoughts) Wait … I …
Jerry then slowly pulled back his left hand that covered his only eye, placing his hand firmly alongside his left thigh, letting it be dragged down by gravity. Turning his head towards the sword, he squinted into the single-edged blade, his reflection being carved onto it.
(Jerry’s thoughts) What’s my reason for being here…?
He saw on the bottom near where the grip was, two letters etched onto the metal.
(Sidney in Jerry’s thoughts) I like it better when you use swords. It makes you more manlier.
Those two letters were an S plus a J.
And in that instant, Jerry crouched down as he extended his right hand toward the grip, pulling the sword that was resting on the rusted floor.
Turning his body and face toward Lazaros, he pointed the sword directly at him, his fingers latching it around the grip with a sweaty hand.
His eyes sharpened straight at the old man with light green hair, his glare a deadly one as the corners of his eyes reached towards the center of his nose. Pushing his right foot a couple of inches forward, he put his head down as he had his right hand holding the sword, his left hand enclosed to a fist.
(Jerry) I’m not joining your little frat party. No way in hell.