Calx Urbs prison complex, Pyrotus Six, June of 137 AL.
Salem couldn't open his eyes. He thought he was sleeping. Or, was he awake? Somewhere...he was somewhere in between. He didn't have much time to consider it, really; a voice came to him, one he recognized. One he hated.
"Oh dear, look what you've gone and done," he could feel Hyde's smile on the inside of his sensory cortex, "You're all torn up again. Do you remember the last time this happened? The last time you did something heroic and foolish?"
Salem didn't answer because...he didn't know, actually. He felt sluggish, he couldn't think. He wasn't in control of his own thoughts.
"I remember it very fondly," Hyde giggled, "Now, how's about we go back? We haven't relived that in far too long, don't you think?"
His eyes shot open, and all of a sudden Salem felt very much alive. In an instant he knew where he was, and his heart started racing as a greasy man in a loincloth came at him with a jagged piece of bone.
Salem jumped to the side to avoid the prisoner's attempt at stabbing him, only to find his back against the stone wall. He looked up and saw the other prisoner swinging a pickaxe directly at his head.
He ducked to the side and the pickaxe skidded against the stone, giving Salem an opportunity; he punched the prisoner in the cheek as hard as he could, grabbing the pick with his other hand as the man went down.
Before he could act further the other prisoner came at him again; the bone knife swung at his chest, and despite his quick reflexes he still felt the blade catch on his shirt. Luckily it only caught cloth, and Salem managed a weak swipe with the pick that narrowly missed his attacker's neck.
The less-greasy of the two prisoners got to his feet and charged at Salem from behind, throwing his arms around the larger man's neck in an attempt to choke him. His attackers were both spacers, this one in particular was especially short; so much so that his legs hung off the ground and he dangled from Salem's neck.
Salem kicked the man with the knife square in the chest to buy himself time, then immediately backed up against the wall. He threw his head back and caught his grappler on the chin, stunning the spacer just enough to dislodge him; the prisoner's arms went slack, and Salem stepped away from him.
The Machinae took advantage of the brief opportunity he'd been presented; in one smooth motion he turned, brought the pick up behind his head and swung it into his attacker's sternum. He felt steel grind against bone and then stone as the spacer cried out in pain, and the greasy attacker dropped his jagged knife, hands trembling.
"Willy!" The greasy man shouted, running up to his friend as Salem stepped away from the wall. Willy slumped onto the floor with a wet plop, landing in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood.
"What did these idiots do now?" An annoyed voice said, "Is that..?"
"It is...oh gods," another voice said, this one higher pitched.
Salem turned to find a small group of people had approached them; five Machinae bullied their way past the other prisoners, forming a circle around Salem and the men who'd attacked him. They weren't as malnourished as the other prisoners Salem had seen; not well-fed by any means, but they'd retained some of their bulk. More importantly they weren't gibbering and looking at him like he was made of ham.
"Not quite, though I like to think this ass is divine," Salem threw a cheeky smile at them, "Salem Grey, High-"
"High King, yes, we know," a shorter, older man with caramel skin said as he stepped forward from the group, "Keep your voice down about that."
