Seth and the Prometheus Guild

Failed Plans

Chatter, chatter, chatter.

The two humans below him never seemed to shut up. If they weren't lamenting their failed plans, they were busy blaming each other.

Donovan especially was a lot more talkative than Seth had imagined. It made him change his designation of the man, from 'Guard' to 'Annoying'. Benson seemed different as well. Instead of easy-going, he was on edge, cursing in almost every second sentence. Seth picked up a bunch of new fun words.

He lazily shifted his position on the flat roof, watching the evening breeze play with pale strands of his hair. His braid had come loose sometime after his feast and without Francesca he couldn't tame it again.

There was one advantage to the constant chatter, though. Seth learned a lot. He learned that they still had Kaya, three gnomes, a troll-changeling and the siren. They didn't talk about Mouse, so she was probably gone. Their prisoners were in the same building as them, but underground. He learned that all of them had to be transported to something called an auction and only afterwards would they be sold. He learned that nothing got sold without this auction.

Except for him.

They hadn't even caught him, and already they had a buyer.

Despite what some humans might think, Seth wasn't dumb. His thought process was different, but it didn't mean he couldn't figure out that this situation was unusual. And not good for him.

If someone bought him, without even once looking at him, he must know Seth. But Seth didn't know that many humans. The Director already had him in the palm of his hand, no need to have him caught and waste money. Pack Leader, Luanne, would probably rather spend money to catch Donovan and Benson, instead of Seth. Francesca would have hysterics at the idea of buying a sentient being. Elaine was afraid of him. The students were not in a position of enough power.

The only other humans he could think of were his original Whitecloaks. His tormentors, who cut him up and humiliated him, imprisoned him, robbing him of freedom and choice.

Robbing him of his true self.

They would want him back. He was promising in their eyes. The only one who had survived all those years.

The one who showed the most progress.

A sharp pain in his fingers made Seth flinch. Unconsciously he had tried to claw the cement, only to rip his useless nails. He stared at the drop of blood slowly forming against his pale skin. His hands started trembling, a shiver chasing up his spine. Something hot boiled inside him, but while his throat felt like it would scald any second, his lips were cold as ice. The blood formed a pearl and dripped, landing on the roof beneath him. He watched as the red liquid mixed with dust and dirt.

Never again. He would never again allow the Whitecloaks, no, anyone, to imprison him.

If they wanted him back, he would kill them instead. He'd wanted to do it anyway, for a long time now. Ever since he'd been freed, he sometimes recalled their faces, fantasizing about all the fun ways he would make them suffer. It made him sleep easier.

The faces in his memory never faded. They had been branded into his brain for all time.

Benson and Donovan had promised to meet someone, to hand Seth over. If they couldn't catch Seth, the meeting wouldn't take place and he'd lose his opportunity to get his hands on one of them. Seth wanted that meeting to happen, he wanted to see who would come for him, and then make them pay. For his buyer to show, Seth would have to let himself be captured.

And after the capture, imprisonment would follow, for at least two days. Two days behind bars, without freedom, without choice, surrounded by human smells ...