The earth shakes and I am sent tumbling downward in a rain of masonry. I hear Ramon screaming in fright somewhere nearby, but my senses are still too bewildered to respond. The last thing I remember was an encroaching darkness as the villa's wall swallowed me whole. My whole body went numb and after that, there was nothing. Literally nothing. My sense of sight and sound just disappeared into the ether. The moment I could no longer feel the wall's innards rubbing up on me was the moment sense of touch had up and left as well.

My vision's hazy, the Eyes of Ea still awakening from their enforced slumber. The rest of my body slowly rouses itself to wakefulness as unpleasant sensations churn through my gut. Warmth spreads outward from my chest, reaching every inch of my body bringing with it the pain of a thousand pricking pins and needles. My organs work again.

I'm coming back to life.

There's something wrong though. A dull throb coming from my back. The more my body awakens, the greater this dull ache becomes. Like something had wedged itself in my back during the fall.

"Mac!" Ramon cries out, clawing himself out of the rubble, "You there?"

"Just dandy." I groan back, my vision having cleared up enough to get our bearings.

As expected, Ramon and I were both lying about in a massive pile of blasted masonry. Panning the Eyes of Ea around, I note our bodies coated in putty, now blackened from the explosion that had inadvertently freed us. Touching a small glob of whitish putty that had escaped the force of the blast, my finger immediately recoils as that same sinister numbness assaults it.

I carefully pick myself off the ground, powering through the mounting backache. Most of the putty covering me might have been charred to uselessness, but one can never be too careful. There was no telling how much exposure to the putty my body could take before shutting down again. Accidentally exposing some skin to the undamaged globs of the stuff might send me back to dreamland in short order.

"Careful, the putty coating us is probably a paralytic." I warn Ramon, "Get rid of it quickly."

Stripping off my battle jacket and shirt, I begin using the shirt to clean myself off. Most of the charred putty flakes away, but my shirt still soaks up more than a few traces of that telltale white.

"Got it Mac." Ramon affirms as he removes his gun belts, sending a shower of grey flakes down to his feet.

"Where the hell are we anyway?" I grunt, using the shirt to clean my gear as well. Falling unconscious just after I draw my sword was something I wanted to avoid after all.

"I think we were trapped up there." Ramon points upward, "And fell down here."

Taking the hint, I look up and finally notice what Ramon is referring to. Enclosing us are metal walls, with a path leading gently downward into the depths. But the ceiling directly above us had been blasted wide open, revealing a crazy tableau of fire. The view constantly shifts jarringly, preventing Ramon and I from making sense of it, but one thing is clear. Whatever has us trapped is on the move.

The white putty begins to drip from the edges of the tear and foams voraciously, rapidly sealing the gap. I dodge to the side, barely managing to avoid the putty as it drips down from the metal ceiling. My suspicions have been proven correct though. We were never in the villa. The moment Ramon and I stepped through the back door, we were taken somewhere else.

"There goes our way out." I grumble in dissatisfaction. If our prison was mobile, there was no guarantee we could get back to Southmarsh in time to make a difference even if we escaped.

"Only way is through." Ramon counters, jabbing a finger at the passageway beckoning us. Torches bearing purple flames are mounted on the wall, providing some illumination.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Alright." I nod donning the battle jacket over my bare chest and tossing the ruined shirt away, "Let's get to it."

"Doesn't it chafe, wearing leather like that?" Ramon quizzes as he falls in behind me.

"Damn sure it does." I complain as my backache grows by a few more notches, "Are you going to walk about topless like that?"

"Don't have any other options." Ramon comments, but I see him strike a pose nevertheless. And there's no way I can't notice the way he has 'artistically' arranged his gun belts to draw attention to his bodyline. Even the shadows thrown by the torches play along, framing Ramon in the most flattering way.

"No ladies here for you to impress." I remark dourly as we follow the passageway downward, the air growing warm and moist. The roof also slants at an odd angle, making the place even more claustrophobic.

"You don't know that, Mac." Ramon grins, "Plus, I think you're jealous that you don't have a six pack like me."

"Of course I don't have a bloody six pack." I shoot back, somewhat nettled, "I'm a fighter, not a gigolo."

"You're pretty chubby for a fighter." Ramon teases cheerfully. Wonderful, my friend's good humor has returned after the near death experience.

"Fat is nature's body armor." I snort, "I could take a knife to the gut and keep walking. You though -"

I turn around and poke Ramon's six pack for emphasis. Curses, those abs are as hard as rock. Now I am feeling jealous. Can't let it show on my face though.

"That blade's going to skewer something important." I chuckle, tapping away at Ramon's toned body, "No fat means no protection. Good luck with that, buddy."

"Protection is not something you need to worry about, huh?" Ramon grins back and begins prodding away at my torso as well.

I quickly grab Ramon's hand and motion him to quieten down. Ramon's face shifts to an expression of alarm the soft clinking of chains reaches his ears.

"Someone's here?" my friend whispers, hands going for his pistols.

I nod in silence, raising the arquebus as both of us stalk forward. The clinking noise grows gradually louder and my finger hovers over the gun's trigger, ready for any trouble. We turn the corridor and Ramon places a hand softly on my shoulder.

"I see it." I mutter back, looking at the man chained to the metal wall.

The figure is coated head to toe in white putty, rendering him as stiff as a board. His right arm though, is lodged at the wrist into the slanting roof itself. Pink, naked flesh peeks out, sandwiched between the cold metal and the putty. The man's wrist struggles with desperate energy, causing the chains fastening the arm to rattle.

"He's not fully paralyzed." Ramon rushes forward eagerly, "We can still save him."

"You got a way to get that guy out of the putty?" I raise an eyebrow, "Or are you going to sacrifice your pants this time?"

"Uh." Ramon cringes in embarrassment at my comment before looking expectantly at me.

"Relax. I've got an idea." I smirk, reaching for one of the torches ensconced on the wall.

Tearing the torch off from the mount, I begin applying it's flame on to the putty. I have no clue why the fire's purple, but it works just like any vanilla fire. The putty begins to smoke and then blacken, with small cracks spreading across the surface. I evenly apply the torch across the entire surface of the putty, acrid smoke filling the corridor. Ramon then draws a knife from his boot and sinks the tip into where the captive's forehead would be.

"Careful." I advise, "We don't want this rescue to turn into murder."

"My blade work's more graceful than yours." Ramon says distractedly, thoroughly focused on his task, "Not everyone swings his weapon about like a barbarian."

Ramon's knife traces the contours of the captive's face, expertly carving through the blackened putty. As he works, pieces of the putty begin to fall off, revealing the captive's mouth. A dry croak emerges from the captive as the tongue lolls about aimlessly. The captive then begins to hungrily gobble air as his body starts to recover.

"Thank you." a long suffering moan greets us.

Ramon carves downward, and more pieces of the putty flake away. I can now see large patches of the captive's flesh on display, and its not looking good. The skin is raw and covered in dried blood. Its almost certain that the captive had been tortured by whomever runs this prison. Most likely flayed, judging from the wounds.

"Just hang on." Ramon murmurs and gently twists his knife, lifting the surface of the putty ever so slightly.

An expertly applied bit of pressure causes the entire cocoon to collapse under its own weight. The putty disintegrates, sending a cloud of fine particles into the air. Coughing, I wave the cloud away, and reunite with someone Ramon and I had encountered earlier tonight.

"Morgan."

........

Addendum

... Suspected malware are then sent to a hidden folder and stored in binary, keeping them in an inactive state. Quarantining a file necessary for a program's operation can cause system stability issues, so the administrator should be aware of ...