The Color of Life is Red

The Poker Game

Lance lied on his side on the dirty carpet floor clutching his stomach and trying to stay awake. He was chained by his bare ankles to a pole off to the side of a game room. A poker table sat in the middle, about ten feet away. A bar sat on the far wall. The room was dim and musty; the carpet was worn and covered in grime. The walls were wrapped in a peeling dull green and gold.

Lance was alone for now. His last visit had been maybe an hour or two before. He was hungry. He was tired. And most of all, he was lonely. Keith filled most of his thoughts, even when the Galra had their way with him. They never removed his mask and Lance wasn't sure why. Maybe they didn't want to look at the face of their victim. Maybe they liked to see him struggle to breathe. Either way, the mask stayed on. He tried to take it off once, but that only resulted in being shocked with a long pole.

A bang bounced off the walls as the door opened and five Galra members entered. Lance stayed as still as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was bring attention to himself. He watched the men serve each other drinks and set up the poker table. The clattering of poker chips and shuffling of cards filled the once silent space. They clinked their bottles together and lit cigarettes.

One of the members sat back in his chair and took a swig of his beer. Lance knew that one well- his name was Marble. He was shorter, but muscular and a major asshole. The last thing he was afraid of was hurting Lance. The Galra that dealt was tall and thin with scraggly hair and wrinkled hands. His name was Dennis. Two female Galra laughed and pushed each other around. That was Ginger and Basil. The last one was an average guy with dusty brown hair and full sleeve tattoos. He looked a little like Hachi, possibly a brother or cousin. His name was Favio.

Dennis was one of the only two in that room that never laid a hand on Lance. He either ignored him or discouraged the others' behavior. He shot a quick look at Lance, acknowledging his existence. Lance cursed him out in his head for drawing attention. Marble noticed his subtle glance and looked over to the corner of the room. He leaned onto his knees, "Hello there, Puppy."

Lance made eye contact with him, shooting a hateful glare. He held his hands up in defense, then set down his beer. "Woah there! How about we play around a little?"

Lance's chest sunk and his head spun as Marble stood and walked over to him. Lance shut his eyes as he unhooked his chains. He clipped a metal choker chain around Lance's neck and tugged him up. Lance felt his sore muscles strain against the cold air as he walked. He had been stripped and changed into a black tank top and short floral skirt- both of which were dirty and torn. The collar squeezed his throat closed when pulled, preventing adequate breathing.

Marble tugged him over to the table and down onto his lap. Lance's bare feet scraped the scratchy carpet, making walking extremely uncomfortable. The collar held him down on Marble as he continued to play. Lance didn't pay attention to the game- instead searching the room for a plan of escape. A hand suddenly yanked his hair back. Marble's dirty cigarette breath warmed Lance's ear, "Don't you try anything."

Lance immediately elbowed him in the crotch. He shouted in pain and tugged Lance's chain leash down to hit his forehead on the table. He pulled him back up by the hair and yelled in his ear, "You try that again, you little slut!"

Lance's whimpers bounced off his mask as he let Marble react. After a moment of angry grunts, he finally released his grip on Lance's hair. Favio snuffed out his cigarette, "Let me have a turn."

Marble shoved Lance off his lap, causing him to fall and scrape his knees on the carpet. Favio reached a hand down from his chair across the table. "Come here," he coaxed in a sweet tone.

Lance hesitantly crawled over to him. He knew who Favio was, but he'd never directly interacted with him. When he reached his chair, Favio stood and crouched down to pick Lance up bridal-style. He sat back in his chair and placed Lance on his thighs, letting him sit sideways. Favio wrapped a hand around his waist and whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

Lance turned to give him a confused look. He tugged on Lance's leash to pull him back toward his face, "Just hold out a little longer. They're coming for you."

Lance's eyes filled with tears. Favio was the first person to show him kindness- and give him good news. He must have been in touch with Keith somehow. Lance leaned onto Favio's chest, hiding under his neck.

Marble smacked his hand on the table, "Now how do you get it to bow to you?!"

Favio's chest vibrated with a deep, comforting voice. "I've got my methods."

"Man," Marble whined and took a big gulp of his drink. "Whatever, but I get him tonight."

Lance clutched Favio's jacket in fear. He had spent many nights with Marble, and that was the last place he wanted to be. A small whimper escaped his throat and he let out a single tear. Favio lit another cigarette, "Nah, you got him the last two nights. My turn."

"What?! That's not fair!"

"You wanna fight me for it, punk?"

Marble went silent for a moment, then clicked his teeth in submission. "Fine. Tomorrow then."

"No."

"Come on!"

Basil's whiny voice cut through the air, "Would you guys stop fighting over the whore and play the game?!"

Lance's eyes were heavy and sore from exhaustion. He held onto Favio's shirt with all his strength. Favio looked down at him and spoke quietly to keep the others from hearing. "Just sleep, Lance. I'll protect you."

Lance took a huge risk and put all his trust in this man. It was all he had. The noises of the poker game faded out as Lance finally succumbed to sleep.