skeleton skies ★ k.takami

four

HOSPES HOSPITI SACER
— "guests are sacred to the hosts"

AMBIANCE; the last of us, Gustavo Santaolalla

•••••••••••••••••••• ★★★  ••••••••••••••••••••

Beyond the dark state of your unconscious mind, you can faintly hear voices. Against your own will you focus on them, though you can't make out what they're saying. When you strain your ears, a sharp pound crosses through your head and you clench your eyes to ebb it off. It doesn't vanish, to your disappointment. Your eyes feel too heavy for your own good, and this causes your heart to stutter for a moment. You fight them open, allowing yourself time to let your peripherals come into focus.

The first thing you notice is that your mask is missing and you're sitting upright. Your arms are numb and strung above your head. When you tilt your head back you catch a brief glance of a pair of handcuffs hung over a pipe sticking out of the wall. Your shirt is missing, leaving you in a black sports bra, but your pants and boots are still on. You're sitting on a thin black carpet, nothing fancy. You swallow, your throat is dry. To your left is a bed pressed up against the wall you're stuck to. Above that is a window—you can't see what the weather is like. To your right are a few cabinets and a door. In front of you is a massive room with a table with your backpack and weapons on it plus a few chairs, a miniature kitchen and more cabinets. One of them looks like it could be a closet.

You didn't recognize where you were at all. Your heart begins to race. You knew you didn't trust him for a reason. He made you beg for your life as a first introduction and now he kidnapped you against your will? What the fuck was he playing at here? You try to get your feet underneath you in order to get the handcuffs over the pipe but your boots can't get a good traction on the carpet. You decide to try and scoot yourself backwards but don't get too far when the door to your right opens. You turn to see who it is, a nasty glare prepared for the winged psychopath.

To your surprise, it's a man with a black bird head. Quickly you size him up: he's wearing a dark red jacket much like Keigo's but he's actually carrying an assortment of shivs, larger knives, and a pistol. Underneath he's wearing a white sweatshirt and his pants are black as well are his boots.

"Oh." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I thought you'd changed this time."

Your blood runs cold. Changed? What did he mean by that?

"Boss said you were bad at talking. How long have you had the bite on your arm?"

Bite? Which arm? Your heart plummets again when you remember the incident in the office before Keigo found you in the shed. The back of your left bicep had burned after that Stumbler fell on you. You have to force your face into your arm, rubbing it against your skin in order to look at what he's talking about. Sure enough, there's a bite mark that covers almost the entirety of your bicep. How long has it been since you were bit? It's daytime now, so your best guess is that it's at least the next day. Did Keigo knock you out after you turned to leave?

How else would you have ended up here?

You look back at him, saying nothing.

The man only blinks at your lack of an answer. "You won't get better at talking if you don't practice."

You scowl. You didn't want to practice. You didn't even want to be here! Had you been able to, you would've thrown something at him. Better yet, maybe kill him. You didn't give a shit if he had a quirk. You'd rather die than be someone's hostage.

"Boss is eating breakfast. You were out for a day, so he's been eager for you to wake up." He turns to walk away. "I'll let him know that you're still human."