The Lost Artifact Of Spode

013

Mel woke up, dazed and in pain. He stares at the ceiling above him for a moment, his mind completely empty.

It took him a minute to remember why his entire body was in so much pain, but when he finally did he quickly sat up, accidentally hurting his wrist further.

Isn't he supposed to be dead? So why is he...

In a holding cell?

He's completely alone in his cell, and the area is quiet. Bage concrete lines the entire room except for a few spaces in the walls, where bars made doors and windows instead. There's concrete benches lining the walls, and a giant crack in the middle of the floor.

Wait, no. The crack was in his vision? He reached for his eyes, only for his fingers to run into his frames.

Oh, right. His glasses. "Doi," he whispers to himself.

He turns on his glasses. The display screen is glitchy, and his cracked left frame has a black line running through the screen, colouring the entire screen left of it pink and green. But to his surprise, he can still navigate the interface. The screen is broken, but the phone itself isn't.

He opens his contact list, and pulls up his wife's number. He can't see what time it is back home, so who knows if Qiana would answer? Regardless, Mel needs to call her.

Unfortunately, the call wasn't going through. Everytime he tried to dial, "No service" popped up at the top of the screen.

He bit his lip at the sight. Maybe it's just because he's stuck inside a concrete box? He desperately hoped so. Mel doesn't know what he would do if his receptor is broken. He wouldn't just be cut off from his family, but help too. Humanity all together.

Mel pushes himself up from the ground and stumbles to the barred wall of the cell. With how much pain his body is in, he has to let himself fall back onto the ground as soon as he makes it over.

"Hello?" He calls out in Universal. He waited for a response, but none came. "Anybody out there?" He calls out again, louder. Still, no one answers back. His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

Unfortunately for anyone in the building with him, he knew how to be annoying right back. It's time for Mel to put his loud voice to good use. He took a deep breath.

"IF ANYONE'S OUT THERE YOU BETTER COME TELL ME WHERE I AM AND WHY I'M HERE! I KNOW I STILL HAVE RIGHTS AS A PRISONER! LAST I CHECKED, NO ONE BOTHERED TELLING ME ANYTHING ABOUT THESE RIGHTS! AREN'T I SUPPOSED TO GET A PHONE CALL TOO? WHERE-?!"

"SHUT UP!" Someone suddenly yells down the hallway. "Please!"

"Where are you?" Mel shouts. A question immediately answered as an alien steps into view. "Oh. Hi."

This alien looks shockingly human-like. Except this race has blue skin and large black eyes with white pupils. He also has rather large, downwardly pointing ears. But everything else about him looks humanoid. This particular alien has long, black hair braided behind his back.

He must be a Proximian.

His clothes looked rather tribal, Mel thought. He dresses in thick animal fur, but it only covers the important parts of the body.

"What do you want?!" He demands.

Hearing him speak, Mel wanted to keep him talking, fascinated by the way he spoke. Despite the rage Mel pushed him into, his voice is still soft and gentle as if he's full of wisdom. And the accent he has is unlike any Mel had ever heard in his life. The closest he could compare it to would be some eastern dialect back on Earth, but even so his accent is too distinct to directly compare it to any.