It had been a while since the girl in green had left the holding cell and the minutes passed slowly. Mr. Ham reached down to a drawer that was tucked deep below his desk, retrieving another book from its dirty depths. Many years' worth of dust clung to the cover hiding away any semblance of identification or title. The man’s meaty gloved fingers opened it wide and began to flip through the pages idly. On the page, there were even more photos of criminals, though it was clear by the discoloration that they hadn’t seen the light of day in quite some time.
Timothy watched from his cell as his warden grunted and slammed the book shut, sending dust flying into the air. “Are you still trying to find me in your records?” He asked politely. “I told you, I’m really no one.”
Standing from his rather useless desk, Mr. Ham strolled over to where the faint blue light of the holding cell kept his prisoner in place. Two soggy pink eyes narrowed as he looked at the boy, giving him a glare that could only be described as ‘ominous with a hint of inquiry.’
The subject in question didn’t know how to feel about this, so he did what he always did when he was unsure about something and smiled as nicely as he could. “Are you looking for something?” He said, glancing at himself. “If you are you just have to ask, you know? Though I know you’re not one for talking.”
Mr. Ham was a giant pig man of few words, so when he spoke it truly meant something. His voice sounded tired and slow, as though it was waking up whenever it was being used, “why?” It boomed.
Timothy looked puzzled. “Why, what?”
His warden sighed, sometimes he wished people would just figure things out for themselves. “Why kill?”
“I didn’t!” The boy pleaded. “I told you I would never do something so horrible!”
Mr. Ham had been on the Ring for as long as he could remember, ever since his father passed on the role to him. In all that time he had the chance to see many people come, go, and explode in his presence. He’d seen scrapers try and lie their way out of their crimes, but they never fooled him. He’d seen cleverer people plan and plot Machiavellian schemes, but they never convinced him. But the boy in the cell didn’t make sense, nothing about him was right. Mr. Ham had seen that sort of smile before. It was the same one worn by sweet-talkers and dealmakers looking to get on your good side- which happens to be the easiest side to steal from. Yet, he believed his polite, annoying ramblings to be honest. It didn’t sit well in the pig man’s heart, he wanted to be done with it.
“Doesn’t matter.” He grunted, looking away. “Rules are rules.”
“Everyone always told me that rules were meant to protect us,” sighed Timothy from his cage. “Why does it seem like all they do is condemn us?”
The man did not respond, although his eyes did flicker for a moment. He’d spent so long upholding the very few laws on the Ring that it was hard not to question them. How many people had he killed that didn’t deserve it? Was death truly a suitable punishment for every crime that couldn’t be resolved on its own? Maybe not, but Mr. Ham wasn’t paid to question the rules, he was paid to uphold them.
Timothy’s smile faded a bit, his posture sinking. “Well, I hope I can prove to you that I’m telling the truth! My friends are out there trying to figure out who actually killed Corpus, and I have faith that they’ll do their best!” The smile returned a bit. “And if they don’t… Well, at least they’ll still be safe.”
“Most of ‘em.” Chimed the potential executioner.
The boy raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”
A smirk spread across Mr. Ham’s face, usually, this type of gesture would be comforting but on the face of a pig, it was rather alarming. “Friend of yours called for a duel.” He said in an unusually long sentence. “I can still accept.”
The color of Timothy’s face practically drained away as if all the blood in his body suddenly evaporated. “But that can’t be right!” He cried. “Alex didn’t mean to challenge you; he was just trying to save me! And besides, he said it was a challenge of wits, remember?”
“A duel is a duel, nothing else.”
“But you don’t have to accept it!” He pleaded as he pressed himself up against the barrier. “Alex has done nothing wrong!”
Mr. Ham shrugged his massive shoulders, “so?” He watched as the boy in the cage started to shake, was he about to cry? “Come clean, and I’ll consider it.”
Timothy looked up, fighting back tears. “What?”
The pig man had already talked more than he usually did in a week, but it would appear that his prisoner needed more explanation than most. “Confess, and I’ll think about leaving your friend alone.”
“But I have nothing to confess!” Timothy blurted. “I didn’t kill Corpus; I swear I didn’t!”
Reaching up to his back, Mr. Ham retrieved his massive cannon. He held it idly in his hands by the sides where some handles poked out. The two locked eyes and Timothy’s heart raced. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” He replied, his voice low. The boy didn’t know what to say, his mouth hung open like he was trying to catch words out of the air but couldn’t find any. Mr. Ham’s smile faded as he returned the cannon to his back. With a slow flick of his wrist, a small screen with a strange looking clock appeared above his glove hovering in space. “Not much time left.” He spoke. “Think it over.”
Mr. Ham’s footsteps boomed as he went to the door. It was late and even pig men need to sleep sometimes, and a desk chair wasn’t going to cut it. He turned one last time to look at his prisoner, the blond boy looked absolutely devastated as he watched him leave. The truth was, Mr. Ham had no idea what was going to happen in a few hours, something in the back of his head was nagging at him like a bug that just won’t go away. He tried to wave it off, but like with both thoughts and bugs, it was easier said than done.
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The large metal door thudded closed, leaving Timothy alone once again in his cell. He clutched his head, not sure whether to scream or to cry. What have I done? He thought. No, I can’t let Alex get killed, I can’t! Oh, why do they have to worry about you so much? It would be so much easier for them if they just left me, I’m sure they can find someone better to fly the Lavender! But they’re not going to, they’re kind to me… I wonder why? He knocked his fists against his head, trying to think harder. They have to leave me; they need to get as far away from here as possible! If Alex comes to help me tomorrow, he’ll… oh, I don’t even want to think like that! Timothy’s mind was made up, there was only one thing he could do, I have to warn them!
However, there was an issue, he was currently stranded in prison with no way to contact the outside world. Timothy reached out a hand and felt the barrier in front of him. As usual, pressure pushed him back, it was clear that there was no way to break through there. He looked around, scanning the room for any way out, but of course, there were none to be found. Timothy sighed to himself, he felt useless. But he knew that he wasn’t alone.
Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, letting the air enter his lungs. “Are you still there?” He spoke out loud. “I heard you before, you told me to do something, but I didn’t quite understand it.”
Silence.
“I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but please, could you help me?” Timothy whispered.
Silence.
“Please…”
From the back of his mind, he heard something whisper back.
Zzzzzzzchrt
Zzzzzzchrt-t-t-Timothy
“Yes, I can hear you!” The boy cried. “Can you hear me?”
R-R-R-Reposition-n-n-n
Timothy raised an eyebrow, “reposition? Like move? I can’t get out of this cell, I’m locked in.”
R-Reposition-n, the voice demanded.
To his alarm, Timothy felt himself being pulled to the side. It wasn’t forceful, instead, it was like his body was suggesting what he should do- he listened to it. Slowly he made his way over to the wall, each step taken with purpose. His hands told him to reach up, and so he did, his nails digging into the wall uncomfortably. “I’ve done this before.” The boy remembered. “I didn’t know why at the time… I still don’t.”
Silence again.
Timothy felt awkward with his arms raised in the air in such a manner, it was like he was posing for an invisible crowd. Suddenly, he felt a static shock on the tips of his fingers, like the type you sometimes get when you touch a bit of metal. Instinctively his hands recoiled from their spot.
R-Reposition-n, repeated the sound in Timothy’s head.
“Sorry,” Timothy muttered as he reassumed his pose.
After a while of waiting, the shock came again, it was all he could do not to flinch away. Slowly, to his growing alarm, the shock returned but this time it was much steadier. It was like he was holding an electric fence with the tips of his fingers and everything in him was telling him to let go. Everything except the voice of course.
“It hurts!” Timothy cried.
M-M-Maintain position-n-n
The pain was unbearable, and Timothy felt his eyes start to go blurry. The hair on his head started to rise and he could have sworn that he could taste the teeth in his mouth. But then, when a jolt, static erupted into the wall. The electricity was quick, flashing for one glorious instant before returning to nothing. Timothy fell backward, the pulse of energy almost sending him flying. He landed on the ground with a thud, nearly banging his head.
Timothy caught his breath, his hands feeling raw and sensitive. Hesitantly he looked down at them, expecting to see burns or injuries, but there were none to be found. “What happened?” He asked the electrified air.
Looking at the wall, he was disappointed to see that there didn’t appear to be any change. He was still locked in his cage and the light blue barrier stood strong behind him. What he couldn’t possibly have known was what was going on outside of his cell. On the other side of the wall, there was another building, which was common for the Ring. Houses were stacked up against each other so tightly you could barely see the nebula through the cracks. In this other building, however, on the specific spot that Timothy had suggested a window be put in, was a power box. With the Ring being relatively small, it wasn’t necessary for every building to have its own power supply, so sometimes they simply shared a source. As fate would have it, or whatever supernatural force of luck you subscribe to, the holding cells happened to follow that same principle. Of course, Timothy didn’t see as the electric charge zapped through the wall into the neighboring power box, but what he did notice was that the faint blue light of the barrier wasn’t so faint anymore.
Behind him, the barrier was glowing a sharp, bright blue. The wall seemed to expand as it started to get brighter and brighter. The light became so bright that Timothy had to cover his eyes, but then he regretted not covering his ears as a screech erupted into the air. A loud Clack sizzled as the barrier erupted, dissolving into nothing as the overcharged power box fed it so much energy that it simply couldn’t handle its own existence anymore. The floor was suddenly sheered with burn marks in every direction like a bomb had gone off, but thankfully the boy avoided any injury.
Timothy blinked. “Oh my.” He said as he stood to his feet.
Reaching out he felt where the barrier used to be, it was gone. He stepped through the new opening gingerly, like he was trying not to step on a creaky board. “How did I do that?” He asked, looking down at his hands like they were foreign objects.
But the voice was gone.
“Hello?” He called, looking around as if to find it again. “Thank you very much! Can you still hear me? Hello?”
Nothing.
The boy closed his eyes tightly and tried his best to listen, but no matter what he did he couldn’t hear the voice again. Sadly, he couldn’t think about that for long, he knew he needed to get out of there as soon as possible. Crossing over to the door, Timothy stopped when he remembered the credit chip that Sophia had dropped earlier. With a quick move, he scooped it up from where it still lay on the floor and proceeded to the exit. His muscles ached as he pushed his full weight onto the door, trying his hardest to make it budge. This went on for a full five minutes before he realized that it was a pull to open.
Pulling on the door proved much easier, though his face still went tomato red with the effort. Timothy peeked his head out the door, scanning the street up and down for any sign of Mr. Ham, and it would seem luck was in his favor. Timothy darted quickly from the door and down the street but turned around and came back when he realized he had left it open- that would have been so rude of him, he thought. Closing it back, Timothy returned to his regularly scheduled running.
The Ring was quiet, its night cycle still in effect. While Timothy was thankful that no one was around to notice him escaping, he still wished there was at least someone to give him company. He immediately reneged on this wish as he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. They were loud and thunderous, which could only mean it was the one person he didn’t want to see. His heart started to thump as he looked for someplace to hide, his head spinning on his shoulders. Spotting something promising, Timothy ran over to where a window had been busted out of a building and climbed through.
It was just in time too as the hulking warden sped past him. Thankfully he hadn’t been spotted, but Timothy couldn’t help but wonder where Mr. Ham was in such a rush to get to. Standing up from his hiding spot he breathed a sigh of relief, but that quickly changed when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Timothy didn’t need to turn around to know that someone, in this dark hidden place, was standing right behind him.