Darkness falls

Out of the Frying Pan

Ishmael laughed at his cohorts.

"This is a joke right?"

No one answered and Ishmael furiously got up from the luxurious throne to glare down on the group. There were twelve people in the room, not including the guards and himself. He walked towards the door and turned.

"Now... If you'll excuse me I have an urgent job that needs attending to, you all wait right here and I will be back as soon as possible."

As Ishmael left, one of the guards approached the room.

"Kill them all and..." Ishmael sneered, "Clean up after yourself."

Ishmael resumed his waltz to the guest quarters; there was someone there that he had to see. Ishmael stopped in front of a bare wall and passed his hand over it. Promptly the wall moved to one side and Ishmael stepped into the room. A young woman writhed on the floor.

"Ah, Mia... Good to see you again."

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Jack opened his eyes and moaned, Pain lancing through his body. It was cold and he was sore.

After a few minutes Jack got to his feet and stared around at his surroundings.

He saw a familiar sight, lots of them. Bars, almost as if this were a cage, of sorts. Jack was back in jail... And it had to be the future.

"How the hell did I get back in here?" He asked the damp air in front of the bars.

"Well well, look who decided that it would be a good idea to get up, not that I really give a rat's arse, but even the sky police have standards... Not that you even live up to those standards."

Jack knew that voice, he had heard it twice before, once only recently and the other time was when he had been imprisoned in this very cell, but there was an air about the voice that said 'you know me more than that'.

"You bastard. Why am I here? Why, god damn it!"

The man chuckled and stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Jack gasped and stumbled away from the bars, not wanting to believe what his eyes were showing him.

"Mark!"

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Pain... there was so much pain. In every cell, every micro-cell of his body was pain. A chill that ran deep to his bones, flashes of light, then darkness, then sounds ... Screams. Coughing... gun shots...

"Help." He called, "Help."

Foot falls, shouting, still dark, more screams, more pain. Hands grasping... Nothing.

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Mia opened her eyes, the pain was gone, but it left a sour taste in her mouth. Ishmael was standing over her, laughing.

"What do you want arsehole? Why are you here?" Mia spat.

Ishmael glared at her and stepped away.

"Now now sister, that is no way to talk to your own flesh and blood, and I even bought a present for you."

Ishmael lifted one hand and clicked his fingers. Shortly, two guards came into the room carrying something... or rather, someone. Mia gasped and let out a strangled cry.

"Mark."

She rushed to Marks side and dropped to her knees, examining the bullet wound.

"What have you done Ishmael?"