Descendants Of War

CHAPTER 2 - Cavia Porcellus

Elyria woke up with a pounding ache at the back of her head. She sat up sluggishly and tried lifting her hand to brush away the hair hanging in her face but soon realized it was tied tightly together behind her and her feet were shackled in chains bound to the chair. She let out a painful groan as she tried twisting her hands free. She failed miserably in the process and decided to try make out where she was but couldn't recognize anything since the room was so dark. Suddenly a bright overhanging lamp switched on, making her flinch as her eyes adjusted to the white light that swung from side to side, revealing certain parts of the room quickly before it was consumed in darkness.

"Let's take that off you shall we?" she heard a man say, he came into view, his silvery hair glowing in the light that contrasted to his dark black jacket that was zipped up halfway. He was tall, gauntly and his face sharp yet pretty. Although he didn't look the part of a killer, he certainly spoke like one. He leaned over a metal table and removed the cloth that was tide around her mouth prying her teeth to dig into the inside of her cheek.

"HELP! SOMEONE! OVER-" her words were cut off from a blow to her face. As she slumped forward, groaning, the cloth was jammed straight into her mouth again, blood squeezing from her wounds as her head was held back up tight against her will once again.

"SHUT UP BITCH! THERE IS NO ONE TO SAVE YOU! NO ONE CARES!" he yelled into her ears and ripped the cloth out again leaving her staring back at him in shock. She licked her bruised numbed lips, tasting the hot blood that trickled down the side of her mouth. She swallowed. "MIND YOUR MANNERS YOUNG LADY OR WE'LL HAVE YOU FED TO THE DOGS!" Elyria waited for him to seat himself in his chair before commencing. "Tell me, what you did with the creator," he said calmly flashing is liquid light blue cat eyes at her threateningly.

"I don't know what you are talking about, and I don't give a damn!" she rasped. She swallowed her blood again, but this time chocked on it.

"ENOUGH!" he slammed his fist into the iron denting it. He rushed towards her, his face coming so close to her that she felt like his eyes bore into her soul. He pulled back her dark hair so that her throat lay exposed to the knife he held by her throat. She yelped stiffly and spat blood and saliva into his face not looking away from the blue slit eyes. Immediately she was slapped in the face once more. The rest of the blood from her mouth and throat sprayed in the direction which her head swung to from the impact. She wanted to throw up when she looked back at the man's disgusted snare which disappeared after he wiped himself off with his jacket. He repeated his question calmly.

"I really don't know what you are taking about!" she said, keeping a reasonable tone despite the anger and frustration that threatened to escape her. The man began to bark with laughter, but she remained indifferent even when she was expecting the man to respond with a burst of angry warnings and protests.

"You are a liar," he growled, "Do you think this is a game!? Huh? It's NEVER a game to us. We are killers, murderers. Bred to assassinate anyone who opposed us; from the moment we can breathe all we know and can do is to destroy. And I'm pretty sure we can kill you like a weak animal without hesitation," he said coldly twisting the blade so that it shone brightly in the light before slipping it back into its pouch.

"We? Whose we?" she said feeling slightly relieved now that he wasn't intending to slit her throat... or at least threaten to.

"Us, the whole operation," he said in a matter-of-factly way resuming back into his position on the other side of the table, "something you would never understand of course."