CRACK
CRACK
CRACK
Crack after thundering crack, the whole prison shook. It wasn’t quite like a rathequake, a long rumbling that shifted the world around them. Instead, it was more like repeated lightning strikes attacking the very foundation. Everything vibrated with the beat. Cell bars rattled, dust shook loose. Crucion and Kaizu were just about flung out of their beds from the anguish of the springs underneath.
“I guess that’s the signal,” Kaizu rushed to unlock her cell. After freeing Crucion, they quickly snuck into the vent that was just right out into the hall. They were still quiet and cautious about the whole endeavor, but it wasn’t really necessary. The rest of the prison was in such an uproar, no one would be looking in their isolated corner. Guards were scrambling around, prisoners were screaming and rioting, the building itself shook as if it could give way at any moment.
But unless something horrible were to happen, they knew that the foundation should remain intact. If they didn’t have that belief, then they may not have had the courage to crawl through the ventilation systems—arguably the most dangerous place to be if the structure started crumbling.
Crucion had actually mapped out the ventilation system during their first romp in the vents, but that was more for his own benefit. Kaizu knew exactly where they were going and the boy had a hard time keeping up, so at about the halfway point, she grabbed his arm and started dragging him along behind her.
The woman wasn’t happy with her part in the plan. It wasn’t what she wanted to do, or who she wanted to do it with. But she also understood that it catered more to her particular strengths, so she relented and would play her part. Just why did it have to be helping criminal scum? It was probably for the best that she didn’t have her morality-reading glove, or maybe those Lessers wouldn’t make it to safety after all.
“Get up. We’re here to save you,” Kaizu spat when they reached the prison cells in the mine, sounding as unreassuring as possible, a staggering contradiction to her heroic actions. But the ragged Lessers didn’t require much convincing. Fortunately, they’d only been put in their cells and not yet chained up for the night. Kaizu doubted the key she stole would work on the restraints and that she’d have to break or pick them, but that already put them way ahead of schedule.
There was a bit of hesitance when the convicts realized that they’d be crawling through the vents, especially when their world was crumbling around them, but the aggravated woman practically stuffed them inside. Crucion took the helm in leading them back, doing a better job at keeping a steady pace and staying relaxed than she could under the circumstances.
“Now get inside,” she barked once they’d made it up to the prison, back to the For Hire’s original cells.
“What? You want us to get locked up willingly after we just escaped?” one of the criminals protested. “We just got our freedom. If they find us, they’ll just throw us right back in that pit. No way in hell are we stopping now!”
Kaizu clearly didn’t hear their impertinent whimpering, too distracted by the continuous clangs and cracks beneath them. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Crucion asked, able to tell where her mind was. “Go ahead. I’ll take care of this and then secure our escape.”
“Thank you, Crucion,” there was no more point to using their fake aliases. “And I know you can do this.” Kaizu sped past the crowd of antsy Lessers, jabbing the one who had spoken out in their windpipe along the way, crippling them to the ground. She then jumped into the vent and vanished out of sight.
“Please get into these cells,” Crucion asked one last time. “While our objective was to get you out of those poor conditions, since you are still criminals, we can not just let you walk free. Justice will come soon to those who tormented you, I promise. But you’ll need to be patient.”
“Just let us go, kid,” another Lesser spoke up. “You don’t even look old enough to be in here, so I doubt you understand how this zjik really works. If we don’t escape right now, we’ll never be free. None of us care about justice, we just want our freedom.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” the boy stood resolute. It was true that he shouldn’t actually have been sent to this prison, yet to reach his 18th birthday—still a few weeks away. But he understood more than most what it was to lose everything, and what it meant to be free to make one’s own choices.
He did pity those Lessers, but they were right about one thing: he was too inexperienced to judge them, their circumstances, what they’d been through. But he trusted the judgment of the other For Hires, and they deemed this as the best course of action, so he’d see it come to fruition.
“Last chance,” Crucion pulled a needle and spool of thread out of his pocket that he’d palmed a few days ago during one of their forced labors. “Stand down, or I’ll be forced to restrain you.”
That caused the new aggressor to chuckle. “Just what are you going to do with that, kid? You stand aside or we’ll be the ones who have to get violent!” But Crucion remained resolute, so the man took a swing—his eyes bulged wide when the boy ducked under it effortlessly.
Crucion hadn’t just learned housekeeping techniques from Mallea. He was her protege, her successor in the truest sense of the word. The boy didn’t have her special brain that could recreate any ability after just seeing it once, so he had to replace that with hard work—practicing endlessly until he got everything just right. To him, his master was a true inspiration, a human among gods, and he strove to be just like her.
The boy ducked under the man’s arm, but used his free hand to grab the attacking elbow as he spun behind his assaulter. Crucion pushed hard, jamming the arm into the man’s back, causing him to yelp out in pain. The human then quickly got to work, stitching the arm’s sleeve to the shirt’s back in the blink of an eye.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
When the man realized what was happening, he swung his other arm across his chest, trying to grab Crucion. But the boy caught that too and pushed the new arm against the man’s neck, stitching the sleeve into the shirt’s collar. His torso was now fully restrained like a straitjacket, unless the criminal could get his shirt off—doubtful but possible.
So Crucion kicked the man in the back, sending him tumbling into one of the open cells and then slamming the door behind him. It was kind of wasteful to use a whole cell just for one person when he only had four to work with, but Kaizu had stolen him a key to use as well. So he could reopen it if needed, though that might be difficult in the heat of battle.
Another Lesser took this opportunity—Crucion’s back literally turned—to try and kick him from behind. But the boy saw it coming. He took a slight step to the side and then grabbed her leg. He bent it at the knee, forcing her ankle against her thigh, and then stitched her pant leg together.
She collapsed to the ground, unable to keep her balance, but still took another swing. Crucion kicked that himself, not as courteous as his master as to not actually fight back directly. But this wasn’t their home, and he wasn’t their host. The boy had a job to do, and would achieve success, even if it went against his teachings.
He bashed her fingers with the tip of her shoe, sending her hand reeling backwards in pain. It bashed into the groin of the man behind her who was racing up to join the fray. That sent him tumbling forward, collapsing to the ground and onto the woman that had hit him.
The boy didn’t let the opportunity go and quickly got to work stitching the two together into one jumbled ball. He then kicked the man again, hard in the ribs, sending the two rolling into one of the cells, slamming the door shut behind them. Three down, six to go, but he only had two cells left. He’d have to try and be more conscientious about how he used them.
But the rest of the Lessers weren’t as aggressive. The remaining two women stepped forward together, their fists raised to fight, though there was a clear bit of hesitance. When Crucion took a single step towards them, they recoiled and bunched together, pressing their backs against each other, not wanting to let the boy get behind them.
They didn’t realize how much of an opening they’d just granted him. Crucion charged forward, dodging one of the woman’s paltry swings and sliding to the side of both of them. He started stitching the backs of their outfits together but had to dodge again when the second woman tried to stomp back at him.
The boy did a complete swivel around the two, skirting to the other side. He quickly finished up the job, completely stitching their shirts and parts of their pants together, fusing them almost like conjoined twins. He didn’t even have to kick them after that. A hearty push was all it took to confine them in the third cell.
But that left him with a headache. There were four to go and only one open cell left. He’d either have to get them all inside in one go or figure out which cell he could reopen and not have the already restrained Lessers escape. At least they were the four most ragged looking, so they shouldn’t put up as much of a fight as the others.
But then he got a welcome surprise. One of the Lessers, the most elderly among them, threw his hands up in surrender. He walked into the still vacant cell and sat down on the bed. The other three then followed suit, the last closing the door behind them.
“Thank you for understanding,” Crucion bowed his head to them. But his job wasn’t over. He turned his back to the cells and started down the hall. The boy still had to secure their escape, which in this case, meant commandeering a vehicle they could use. If Kaizu was still with him, they also would have pre-emptively cleared a path from the solitary cells, but he’d do what he could.
It was obvious that the boy would have to go against any guards as he made his way, and a mere needle and thread wouldn’t cut it. But fortune shined upon him. Left out in the hall, shaking and splashing everywhere, was a mop stuck into its wheeled bucket.
The boy grabbed the handle, which felt so right in his hands, and started pushing the cleaning implement along with him as he veered through the halls. “Halt, back to your cell!” It wasn’t long before a guard tried to stop him.
When the guard got a bit closer, Crucion swung the mophead at his helmet, staining the visor with dirty water. The guard was forced to rip the helmet off to regain his vision, but Crucion used that opening to ram the mops handle into the man’s face, right between the eyes and just above the nose. This sent the guard tumbling to the ground, rolling around as he rubbed the pain.
The boy didn’t stick around to see if the man recovered and pushed forward. “You there, stop.” This time it was three more guards charging towards the boy down the hallway at an intersection. Crucion didn’t even slow down. Without breaking stride, he pulled the mop out of the bucket and made one sweep across the hallway’s threshold and kept marching.
A few seconds later, there was a symphony of squeaks and screams behind him as all three guards slipped and piled onto each other. By the time they reorientated themselves, he was long gone.
Crucion didn’t face any more opposition for the rest of his trip through the prison. There was just too much chaos. The guards were either busy dealing with prisoners who were out of their cells at the time, trying to get the situation under control, or cowering or trying to escape themselves from whatever disaster was happening.
“Don’t come any closer!” But there were two guards standing watch in front of the garage door. One was just a standard guard in standard uniform with a handgun, the other in full armor with a shotgun that they used against the Lessers.
Crucion targeted the regular one first. As he continued to march forward. He shoved the wheeled bucket ahead of him, sending it speeding across the floor. It rammed into the guard’s shin, causing them to trip over it. To his surprise, they tripped into the bucket itself, sending them collapsing to the floor and covered in dirty water.
The boy used the distraction to charge at the other guard. He got low and swung high, knocking the shotgun towards the ceiling with the mophead just as the guard fired. Then he gave the mop pole a twirl and jammed the handle under the front of the helmet, into the guard’s chin. That was enough to debilitate the guard and send them stumbling backwards.
Before either could get back upright, Crucion grabbed the shotgun and pointed it at them. He then ripped the keys off of one of the guards and helped himself inside the garage. For one last usage of the mop, he jammed it into the door so that only someone as strong as Itsy would be able to get inside.
Now alone and with time to search, he scrounged around for the keys to the vehicles, having to lockpick a strongbox—another ‘housekeeping’ skill he’d learned from Mallea in case a resident ever locked themselves outside of their apartment. Once inside one of the armored vehicles, he could finally relax and let himself take a deep breath.
It was only in that moment that he finally realized what he’d just done. He took on Lesser Fiends and armed guards all while just being a regular human—forgetting that he wasn’t a Lesser himself. That sent his eyes shooting wide open, unable to calm down again as he waited for his friends.