Kitty's Keeper/No Clean Blades

VIII

The dungeon was an amalgamation of every dungeon Kitty had ever heard described—dark and dank, with naught but straw, rats, a dim lantern, and torture devices for company. Well, that and Jeremy, who was suspiciously silent. In fact, the only one of the pair making any noise was Kitty, who wept openly not at the hopelessness of the situation, but from sheer exhaustion.

A soft paw pat their back. "There, there," Jeremy consoled, "It'll be alright."

Kitty sniffed. "I'm so tired. I'm sleeping, I'm dreaming, and yet I am wasted."

"Shh..."

"I...I'd give anything, everything I've got for a little peace of mind. To wake up."

"Really?"

Kitty curled into themself and gave a shuddering sigh. "I don't know."

Jeremy's voice dropped to a familiar octave. "Wot—" He cleared his throat and continued in his normal voice. "What do you mean?"

"I want to go, by Fortune's bloody ankles, I want to go, but part of me doesn't find that fair."

Jeremy said nothing. Kitty sensed his confusion.

"He took over my dreams, Jeremy. And I should beg him to wake me up?"

"You aren't making any sense, my friend. Perhaps you should explicate, from beginning to end."

Kitty leaned against the stone wall of their cell, appreciative of the fact they were not chained to it. "Yes, I think I should, but what to say?"

"What you feel, methinks, should be a splendid start. Go on, crack on, tell me what's in your heart!"

Kitty watched the door of their cell. "My heart wants to stay. My heart needs to stay. I refuse to wake up until I find John, the true John, not the pawns in his image, not the puppets in the shape of our friends, not the creatures conjured by his twisted mind. I will find John and demand that he wakes me."

"Is that so?"

The human turned to him suspiciously. "It is. Why do you ask?"

Jeremy stepped back. "Not to discourage you, to be sure! I was surprised, of course, but your intentions are pure."

"Yes..." Kitty hissed. "Yes... If John wants a game, then he shall have it." They stood. "But first..." They walked to the dungeon door. "We must escape this prison."

They tried the handle at first, then shouldered the door with a ram's rage when it wouldn't give way. Not that either should have, but Kitty figured John would have let them waste their time plotting some complex escape only for the door to swing open, unlocked. That assumption was wrong, of course. Rubbing the sore shoulder, they paced before the exit, thinking of alternate routes.

"Poke around, would you, Jeremy? Maybe there's a tunnel or loose stone we can take advantage of."

Jeremy nodded before toddling away. Kitty rolled their shoulder a few times before inspecting the door closely. "What is your game, John?" they muttered. "What dost thou seek from this charge of a fisherman? What must I yield for our freedom?"

The door was made of a strong, solid wood. It stood one and a half persons tall, and about three wide. A small, grated opening was cut into the upper third. Kitty looked up and called out.

"Hello! Is anyone out there?"

Silence.

Kitty scoffed. "A poor prison is this, to not even to provide a warden!"

A gasp and the cacophony of falling metal from behind distracted Kitty from their critique. In the dimmness, they saw Jeremy step away from the torture devices. Once free, he called them.