Captive (Among Us Logic)

Comfortably Numb

Gentleman

It hadn't taken long for this so-called gentleman to behave in a decidedly ungentlemanly manner with his captors. He'd lost his top hats in the struggle on the Skeld. On board the enemy ship, he yelled for his beanie boy and decried the pirates' uncouth nature. Obviously, they didn't understand his shouts, muttering under their breath about the loud furry potato they'd acquired. One of them gave him some water when he'd finally worn himself out with his protests, but the seemingly thoughtful gesture had a catch. A short while after drinking it up, an overwhelming sense of lethargy had fallen over the black Bean. Indeed, they'd drugged it with a sedative, and by the time the Gentleman realized that, he had nothing he could do. He lay down in his cage and let the abyss take him.

That sedative kept him quiet for a good, long time. Enough time to make the pirates argue amongst themselves that they'd poisoned him with a dose that was too much. A dose that kept a normal-sized being calm and cozy for a spaceflight could kill a small creature like a Bean. After berating the one who'd mixed the drugs, telling him that dead Beans weren't worth as much as live ones, they pulled out plan B. They knew a tanner on this planet who took any creature, no questions asked. At least they could still fetch a couple credits for the black Bean's hide.

They landed their ship on the outskirts of a bustling city, off the grid where their vehicle would go unnoticed. Carrying the Gentleman in his cage, they marched past piles of garbage and burnt-out hovervans, vats of chemicals and broken equipment from the factories nearby. Thick greenish smoke hung in the air, which reeked of melting plastic and God knows what else. One of the Alder strapped on a respirator.

"Ah, take that off," the leader growled at him. "You big baby."

"But who knows what toxins are floating through the air right now?" he fretted.

"Maybe I should ask you," the leader retorted. "After all, you're the idiot who gave this thing (he gestured towards the Gentleman) an overdose."

That shut him up quickly. They approached a concrete building with rust stains dripping down its sides. Opening the door sent a powerful whiff of tannins and disinfectants their way. Big vats of chemicals bubbled, and an uncomfortable number of animal corpses hung from the ceiling. A top-heavy alien wearing goggles over its four eyes hunched over a work table, cutting a large swath of leather into strips. He looked up at the noise of the cage clattering on his table.

"Eh? What's that?" he grunted at the pirates.

"Just a little something we picked up on our way here," the lead Ald told him, popping the hatch on the cage. "Have you ever worked with Bean fur before?"

The tanner glanced at the creature inside the cage and snorted. "There's hardly anything to it. Small critter."

"It's very fine fur, though." The leader pulled the Gentleman out of the cage and laid him out mostly flat on the table. "Give it a feel. It's soft."

The tanner grunted and obliged, running a thick hand along the grain of the black Bean's fur. "Huh. It is soft. Maybe I could make a pair of slippers out of it. Nice slipper-thingers for the ladies."

"Exactly," cooed the leader. "So. How many credits you want for it? Sixty?"

"Don't push it. There isn't more to work with than what makes a lap blanket. Forty."

"Fifty," the Ald insisted. "No less. It's a well bred Bean."

The dumb one tried to pipe up about how they picked up the Gentleman from the Skeld and who knows anything about his "pedigree," but the leader stopped him with a deft slap. The tanner wanted forty-five credits for his final offer. While they haggled, the effects of the sedative finally started to wear off. The strong formaldehyde scent in the tannery helped, too. The Gentleman sluggishly writhed on the table before cracking his eye open and taking a gander at his surroundings.