Screw It, I'm Going Out to Find It!

Chapter XXXIX: Meeting the Dark King

Rayleigh tucked his flask away. With a content smile, he stood up and stretched the best he could in his confinement. Eyes turned to him as he popped his neck. Most of the other captives had lost faith that they would ever make it out. To see a man so calm in the face of a fate worse than death was unfathomable.

Then, with a lack of grace, he gripped the metal around his neck and pulled it forward. Many of those watching cringed or turned away, unable to watch the sight. Some thought he had lost his mind, some thought him ignorantly bold, but others thought he would rather die a man than live as a slave. A sickening burst echoed through the chamber, flooding the chilled air with warmth. Some kept their eyes averted, but some let theirs trail back to the grim scene, but they were not greeted with the sight of death. Instead, Rayleigh stood there unscathed, rubbing his wrists as if mildly uncomfortable with how tight his chains had been. In the center of the hall, at just a mildly safe distance, was the charred and mangled remains of his chains. Whether it was the blast or the grasp of the man that left them twisted, none could tell.

"How?" Someone asked. It hardly mattered who it was, as everyone beholding the sight thought the same word.

"The ability to not give a fuck," Rayleigh quipped. Though he quickly added, "But I wouldn't recommend anyone else trying it themselves. If you'll give me a moment, I'll help everyone out." Rather unphased by the locked cell door, Rayleigh made his way out of his cell in a manner that displayed for any still unsure that he was here of his own volition. And now he had decided that time was up.

One by one, Rayleigh released his fellow prisoners from their chains. Even with the eyes of those around him returning to witness him, it was difficult to spot exactly what allowed him to perform such an act. It was simply too fast for them to process, even after watching it at least thirty times as he left the chamber void of prisoners.

"There, that should do it," Rayleigh said with a satisfied grin. "Now, all that's left is to —"

"I told you!" The door at one side of the chamber slammed open. "That bastard is up to it again!"

The newly freed captives scattered, rushing for the door on the other side that led outside. The man who had entered the room charged forward, broom in hand. He waved it around in a frenzied motion, as if he was trying to shoo out a wild cat. Rayleigh lightly jogged, crossing through the panicked crowd back out to Sabaody. The man who had pursued him was left in a deserted room. With a frustrated cry, he threw the broom onto the ground.

"Damn him!" He shouted, turning and pointing a finger. "I swear, whoever is the next person to bring him in, it's your ass explaining to the celestial dragons why we don't have anyone to sell."

***

"Why are we still doing this?" Mercury muttered, watching the White Fang scurrying about. They were busy loading crates of dust into vehicles, supposedly destined to be snuck up to the arena. Watching a faunus drop a crate of highly volatile dust onto his foot before crumpling at the pain left him dubious.

"Because Cinder said so." Roman's answer was as bland as it was irritating. He leaned in a detached manner, but one that still felt practiced. Mercury wouldn't doubt that Roman was the sort of man to practice posing in front of the mirror.

"She's not going to be happy when she finds out about the tournament." Mercury grumbled, almost to himself. Already he could hear the banshee-like fit that would be thrown over the entire situation.

Waltzing over to him, Roman gave Mercury a surprisingly serious look. "Look, let me give you some advice: find someone else to blame. Hey, don't look at me like that! You and I both know that she will be mad if we interrupt her scheming right now. So, damned if we do, damned if we don't. Unless —" Roman waved a hand broadly in the direction of the working faunus. "We're not the ones she takes her anger out on."