"Turn right here," L.L. gestured towards his companion, "depending on whether this is the modern MK-23 Britannia model or the older MK-17 version there will be either two infrared scanners or a guard station coming up."
"How do you plan on getting past infrared scanners?"
"We'll have to take a detour to the southern control room if that's the case. Certain keycards should be there depending on the guard shift they implemented, although considering the illegitimacy that they acquired this Landcruiser there could be some complications..." L.L. started rambling as he mused about the different scenarios they were likely to encounter.
"Isn't that-"
"Risky? Yes I am aware."
The danger of discovery weighed on both their minds, the longer they linger the more they risk getting caught, after all none of them were infiltration specialists.
"You there! State your business," a rough sounding voice stopped them as they turned the corner.
L.L. almost smiled, humans were much easier to deal with. He met face to face with a lone soldier clad in the same uniforms the soldiers from the square used, his face hidden behind a helmet and a standard issue blaster slung across his arm.
"We're under orders from Helen to check up on the prisoner," L.L. announced.
"Helen? Isn't it Eugene whose in charge of the hollows?" the guard sounded skeptical.
"You may confirm for yourself if you'd like," as the guard reached for the mounted transceiver, L.L. added, "but they are in a meeting right now, and I personally wouldn't bother them if I were you."
The guard hesitated before asking the duo, "What business does Lady Helen have with the hollows?"
"She was interested in the one that attacked the square and was wondering if he could be preserved," L.L. improvised, "you know she doesn't trust those methods that Eugene uses."
"Hmm, you may pass."
As the duo walked past the guard, L.L. gave the hand of C.C. a light squeeze and as soon as they were within arms length away the guard raised his blaster.
"Wait, I'm going to have t-", but before he could utter his next words he was stopped by a flow of blood spurting from the back of his throat, and collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.
"I'm surprised you knew he was going to check us after that exchange." C.C. observed while holstering her blade.
"I didn't, he saw our faces and was going to report to his superiors about our activity, he needed to be silenced." L.L. probed around the uniform belonging to the lifeless guard and fished out a green looking card, "We don't have much time, the patrol unit shifts change in half an hour we need to get going."
"And just leave the body here?" C.C. asked in surprise.
"Won't make much of a difference given how much time we have. Besides," L.L. smiled as he raised the green card, "we're in luck, he was a captain."
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It must have been days since Rick had been tossed into the cell. At the beginning there was pain, a raw burning sensation of gun fire penetrated his pilot cabin when his nightmare was shot down. He fully expected to die there and steeled himself, but instead he was roughly bandaged up and chained up in a hellhole of a dungeon.
Dozens of cell holdings with people hung on hooks or strapped to operating tables; there were symbols of eyes carved into the torso of one, the skin stripped from another to the point where you could see muscle and bone, and some were even so far gone they resembled bags of flesh moreso than humans.
A dried pool of vomit in the corner of his cell reminded him of how his body reacted initially.
"Hey... you holding up okay?" He softly spoke to a blindfolded and chained up girl on the adjacent wall. Dull white locks and pale skin riddled with long and short gashes alike wrapped in a strange torn white jump suit. She had been here before him and seemed to be the only being in this place, other than him, that could even be saved, although he wasn't sure how long he could still hold onto his hope.
"Here," his arms screamed as he pushed a stale piece of bread over to her, "I don't need this."
This had been the seventh or so time Rick had tried to interact with her but girl said nothing just like the other times. Rhythmic shallow breaths gave him the impression that she was too hurt to even notice his attempts.
"HEY!" Rick yelled, despite his body begging him to sit still, "She needs medical attention!"
As with the last time, the moans of the damned and cries of the prisoners were all the response he was given. Until...
"Oh, L.L. I think I found him." A somewhat familiar voice returned his call, but he couldn't pinpoint where he heard it from.
Two figures strode over towards him one female one male, however the male was bent over and seemingly rather sick. "I've seen butcher shops less bloody than this..." he muttered.
When they were in front of his cell the man straightened himself and asked: "You there, you were the one who stormed the square were you not? Come with me, I have a few questions to ask of you."
Rick, disgusted by their pompous attitude managed to spit weakly on the ground, "I've got no reason to answer your questions you scum."
"I see, well then," the man took off his mask revealing the face of a young adult with black hair and piercing eyes, "Lelouch vi Britannia commands you, come with me and answer all I wish to ask of you."
"What?" Rick looked at them confused, "Invoking the name of the tyrant king won't do you any good. He's been long dead."
The young man looked visibility shook, as if he had full confidence that that tactic would work. Meanwhile the other masked guard seemed to keel over in silent laughter.
Gathering himself the young man tried something else: "Wait wait, I assure you we are not with... well whatever this group calls themselves. We infiltrated the Landcruiser in order to gather information. If you come with us, we can work to undermine their operation."
"And why the hell would you go to a damn prison cell to do that? Why do you need me?" Rick snapped back.
"Becaus-" he began, but was interrupted by his associate.
"L.L. we don't have enough time."
The man thought for a few seconds before turning to face Rick.
"Alright, let me put it this way. I can get you out of here, and although you may not trust what I say or who I claim myself to be, what I am offering to you is your last chance at salvation before you end up on one of those meat hooks. So either take my offer and have a chance to bite back at your captors or remain here and die a sorry, gruesome death."
While the young man's tone was shaken up, presumably by the disgusting sights in this dungeon, but his words rang true and resonated with Rick's inner wish:
A second chance.
"Fine."
