𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 | 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙿𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝟼

Warning: this chapter contains sexual assault.

You woke up in a dark room.

Your hands and legs were tied to the chair you were sitting on preventing you from moving. The rope that rendered you completely motionless dug into your skin, it was so tight you felt as if your wrists were about to snap.

Someone turned on the light and entered the room. You squint your eyes because they weren't quite adjusted to the bright light.

"Why were you wandering around in a fatui camp in the middle of the night?" A male voice asked.

It was the same guy from before, the one who knocked you unconscious. You tried to speak but then realised there was tape over your mouth.

"Tsk." The fatui agent walked over to you and harshly ripped the tape off.

You felt as if a layer of your skin was just pealed off from your lips.

"I'll ask you again. What are you doing here?"

You didn't answer.

"Did you come here to steal information?" He questioned. "Are you an assassin?"

Question after question was thrown at you, but not a single word came out of your mouth.

"Stop fucking messing with me." The fatui agent grabbed your collar. Your dead eyes that stared into his irritated him to his core, so out of anger he punched you. Hard.

The chair you were sitting on fell on its side along with you slamming onto the concrete floor. Your head had hit the ground causing your vision to go blurry.

"Why do you have to make my job so difficult?" He spat. "If lord Scaramouche finds out someone snuck into our camp undetected he would definitely kill me."

Whilst the fatui agent was rambling on about how much of a problem you were, he was beating the life out of you. The guy threw a couple hard kicks to your stomach causing you to throw up a concerning amount of blood. He pulled you up by your front hairs and threw a knee strike to your face. Then he picked you up and slammed you into the wall, in result the chair you were strapped to broke into a million pieces.

He dropped you to the floor sighing as if he just let out all of his built up anger and frustrations upon you.

The brutal beating you just took led you unconscious once again.

You woke up in an old-looking prison cell.

The walls were brownish grey covered in dirt, mud, and markings on the wall. There was a bucket in the corner and a singular pillow on the floor, not even a blanket or a sleeping mat. The entire room smelt as if there was a corpse decaying in there for at least a week.

There was no window so you had no idea whether it was daytime or not. If it was then Scaramouche probably already realised you were missing.

As soon as you tried to move, your entire body ached like hell most likely because of what happened not so long ago.

When you finally sat up, you noticed there was indeed a dead body decaying right next to you. It was a small child and there were flies swarming around the body.

You instantly crawled away from it, as far as you possibly could before you bumped into a large person. Slowly turning around, you saw a grown man staring down at you.

"How did someone such as yourself manage to get into a place like this?" He smirked.

You didn't say a word to the guy, hoping he would just leave you alone.

"You know this place is very miserable." He moved closer to you. "And it's rare for me to get a roommate as beautiful as yourself."

You tried shuffling away but he grabbed your arm keeping you in place.

"You see, my last roommate died from a disease so I've been quite lonely. They never bothered to clean up the body." He continued.

"Who are 'they'?" You questioned.

"So you can speak? By 'they' I mean the fatui of course, this is a prison for slaves. The fatui keep us here so they can sell us off. Other than that we do their physical work such as building, or things like farming. Everyone dies working here, one way or another."

You furrowed your eyebrows. How did this place go undetected by both the electro archon and the tri-commissioners.

"But none of that matters right now." The guy spoke, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

While he was doing that, you caught a glance at his hands and they were absolutely filthy. They were covered in: dirt and mud, some food and his hands were extremely dry, so dry they looked like they were pealing off.

The man's left hand moved down to your waist, caressing your thighs. You stood up getting out of his grasp

"Where do you think you're going?" The man grabbed your wrist, it was still incredibly sore so you flinched."There's nowhere to run, you're stuck in here with me." He laughed.

Who did he think he was? You were the former raiden shogun not so long ago.

In retaliation, slapped him using all your strength. Knowing you killed an abyss mage bare handed, you could do some serious damage to this guy. And you did.

Once your hand made contact with his face, you noticed his jaw was way out of place. You definitely broke it.

The man spoke incoherent words, he couldn't even form a simple sentence anymore. From anger, he pushed you to the ground with great force then placed his hands on your neck.

His sorry attempt of trying to choke you obviously failed, after all you didn't breathe, you were a puppet.

 The man was confused of why you weren't struggling and losing consciousness like he expected, instead you were perfectly fine.

After he grew tired, you slammed your fist into him landing a harsh blow on the side of his head. Instantly, he fell on top of you. You couldn't tell if he was dead or just unconscious.

"Where the hell is she?" An angry voice stomped down the long corridors.

"S-She's here." Another voice spoke, slightly stuttering.

You pushed the man off of you and stood up just as Scaramouche arrived. He stared at you from the other side of the cell.

"This place smells like shit, someone clean that up." The indigo haired boy pointed at the decaying corpse. Then Scaramouche gave the person trailing behind him a disapproving look.

The cell was unlocked and the door opened.

A couple fatui soldiers marched into the room and carried the dead body away. 

Another fatui agent checked the pulse of the man you just hit, and he was indeed dead.