Trench

Twenty Øne

The stillness set a familiar weight on the room, and beads of sweat dripped down the prisoner's forehead. His face was bruised and bloody from resisting the guards, as well as the advisors' interrogation, but his jaw was set and his fists were clenched in the shackles, filling his entire body with determination. Eight Bishops stood in front of him, watching him.

"Jack," Andre finally said, his voice dry and almost apathetic.

"If you think I'm going to give you any information, you're dead wrong," Jack said through gritted teeth, tugging at the restraints on his wrists and ankles.

Andre simply tipped his head slightly. "Why did you want to leave?"

"This place is a prison!" The louder he shouted, the thicker the stillness returned. "You aren't helping us. You're keeping us in to torment us!"

"Are we?" Andre looked over his shoulder at the other Bishops. "I don't think so. We are protecting you."

"You're sick and twisted, and I want nothing to do with you," the prisoner spat, glaring at them with dangerous fire in his eyes.

"Bishop Listo has a few questions for you," Andre said, stepping back. "Do not disrespect him as you have disrespected me."

"Tell me about the girl," Listo ordered. "The leader. What did she say to you?"

"Nothing."

His blackened hands stretched out toward the prisoner's neck and seized him with their dark embrace. "Try again."

Jack narrowed his eyes and curled his lip in a sneer, but he suddenly jerked with a gasp for breath and threw his head back. Listo's fingers dragged across his neck, leaving deep lines of shadow behind. The prisoner slumped forward, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, and only found it again when Listo withdrew his touch.

"Tell me about the girl."

"I...can't," Jack said through gasping breaths.

Listo didn't even have to touch him. He dug right into his mind and squeezed him from the inside out. This time, Jack screamed as the Bishop released him. His skin grew deathly pale, and his entire body spasmed out of control.

"Do not make me ask you again."

"Don't - don't know her name," the prisoner sputtered out, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Said to call her - call her Bird."

"Your citizens seem to be getting smarter," Reisdro remarked.

"She is not from Sector One," Andre said, staring at the twitching man in front of them. "All are accounted for, except this one."

"How did you meet her?" Listo asked.

Jack shook his head twice, trying desperately to twist out of the chair. Listo just sighed softly and put his hands on his neck again. The man couldn't even cry out. He opened his mouth in a silent scream and went completely rigid, every muscle in his body seizing. The Bishop held him for nearly a full minute before releasing him, and he hung his head as tears sprung to his eyes.

"We have all day, boy," Andre said.

"F-found us," Jack wheezed out, unable to speak any louder. "Me and - and Sadie. In - in One. During Worship."

"Tell me about Sadie."

"She's from - from Four -"

Instantly, all eyes turned to Reisdro, and he scowled. "I knew that girl was trouble. I should have smeared her long ago."

"Smearing isn't always the answer, my friend," Keons said softly from the back of the room.

"Now is not the time to bring your little experiment into our council," Sacarver hissed.

"He is more than an experiment," the former said, his brow furrowing slightly. "He is the future of Vialism."

Andre cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to the matter at hand. "There were four of you. Who was the other?"

Jack stayed still for a moment, sucking in raspy breaths and shaking in pain. "Called him Mouse," he finally whispered. "F-found him in Three. He - he followed S-Sadie. Got caught up in - caught up in the plan."

Again, all eyes shifted to the back of the room, but Keons just raised an eyebrow. "Tell me about this...Mouse. What was he like?"

Instead of answering, the prisoner coughed hard, drops of blood speckling his dirty jeans. His nose was bleeding now, and his skin grew blotchy with black and purple bruises. Listo moved to seize him again, but Keons held up his hand to stop him.

"Jack," he said firmly, crouching down in front of him. He seemed almost calm and gentle for a moment, but he suddenly grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at him, cold, collected anger washing off of him. "Tell me about Mouse, Jack, or we will find a more permanent punishment, do you understand?"

Jack coughed again, fighting to keep his eyes open. "S-small. He's small," he stuttered. "Glasses. Sh-shy. Nervous." The prisoner's skin was ash white, and he was no longer shaking. Keons held his entire weight up by his chin.

"Anything else?" the Bishop said.

"Twitchy. Had - had a pen, I think." Jack's eyelids fluttered as he fought to remain conscious.

Keons' fingers tightened on the prisoner's face. "Is he hurt?" Jack didn't respond, and Keons slammed him against the back of the chair. "Is he hurt?" he growled.

"Cuts - cuts on his - his..." Jack paused and swallowed hard, barely able to speak. "Hand. On his hand."

After a long moment, Keons released him and stood up, his shoulders tight with anger. "He got out."

"It seems as though your experiment didn't end so well, did it?" Vetomo commented.

Keons whipped around and jabbed his finger at him. "Don't say a word," he hissed. "He'll come back."

"You also said that he wouldn't cause trouble," Lisden said, "and look what that caused. He is the one who stopped the Assemblage. That is the most important event in the entire city, and he destroyed it with a single mistake."

"He will come back," Keons insisted, narrowing his eyes. "And not only that. He will come back willingly. Even if I have to retrieve him, he will come willingly."

"You sound incredibly sure of yourself," Vetomo chuckled.

"I know he will be willing, because he is filled to the brim with guilt. That boy has nothing but shame inside him."

Someone knocked on the door and frantically entered the room, breathing hard. "We found the breach," the advisor said, trying to catch his breath.

Instantly, the Bishops turned and started for the door, each giving their own orders. The advisor backed up, blinking in confusion as he tried to process all of the information. "I'll take you there," he finally said. "It's in Sector Six."

Keons watched as the others left the room, and then turned back to Jack. "You've been very helpful, child," he said softly. The prisoner didn't even look at him as he crouched down again. "Therefore, I will be merciful."

"Th-thank you," Jack breathed.

Keons just smiled and drew a thin knife from his belt. He ran his thumb over the tip of the blade, examining its sharpness, and then suddenly slashed the knife across the prisoner's neck. Blood squirted from the massive gash and poured from his throat, soaking his clothes within seconds. Jack gasped in terror and pain, spasming as he fought for air against the flow of blood, desperate to survive.

Keons leaned close to his pale face, meeting the prisoner's frantic eyes. "Never go near my son again," he said, his voice low.