Welcome to Ashmound

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF DEHUMANIZATION, BLOOD AND DISTURBING THEMES THAT MAY BE OFFENSIVE OR UPSETTING TO SOME READERS

Shikyo's wrists felt like they were splitting open. Metal engraved purple marks in his pale skin as he was led from behind across the streets of Techspire.

Civilians turned their heads to glare at him disappointedly. To him, they looked like wide-eyed, stupid-faced goldfish. His lips twisted into a scowl as he passed by them, hissing at every person who dared spare him a glance.

Suddenly, his wrists blared with a cutting pain as the officer behind him tugged on his restraints.

"You have the right to remain silent," the officer ordered sternly.

Shikyo winced, but didn't say anything.

The officer then continued to lead Shikyo through Techspire's cold streets.

Wind blew in Shikyo's face. Goosebumps blanketed his skin. His teeth chattered and he shivered against the cold air. The pavement under his shoes was hard and gruelling to walk on to the point where the soles of his feet felt like they were rested atop jagged rocks.

A grey fog began to build up in Techspire's indigo sky, surrounding its navy-blue buildings in fluffy clumps of silver. Shikyo squinted his eyes to see better amidst the grey blur taking over Techspire's skies. He could gradually see a building approaching that stood out from the rest:
It was magnificently short compared to the skyscrapers that surrounded it, standing at only one storey tall.

An overwhelming sense of dread overtook Shikyo at the sight of the building.

"Is that it?" He asked the police officer.

The officer grunted with approval, refusing to provide a solid answer.

"I'll take that as a yes," Shikyo replied, turning his head back towards the officer and flashing his best attempt of a charming smile.

The officer raised an eyebrow.

Shikyo chuckled. Beads of sweat slid down the sides of his face as he whipped his head back around again, and his arms shivered lightly. He was in a cold sweat, but he forced a smile upon his face nonetheless, as he tried not to freak out.

I have nothing to lose; why am I panicking? Prison isn't scary! It's not like I'll lose my job anyways.... Because I don't have one...

In a matter of seconds, he was shoved through the entrance of the short building.

The building was old, with timber floors, crimson red brick walls and a cream-coloured roof. Darkness stretched over every inch of the complex, haunting it with a cold, dark eeriness. A stairwell leading down sat comfortably to the right of the entrance.

The officer led Shikyo down the stairs, not giving the thief a chance to look back.

The staircase spiralled on for what felt like decades; the uncomfortably rough gravel under Shikyo's feet never seemed to end. Darkness laid over every inch of the stairwell and hid away anything from sight.

Suddenly, a dim, blue light flickered into Shikyo's vision like a flash of lightning, lighting up the scene before him.

There were towering, windowless walls of blue-painted metal, flickering emergency lights lined along the roof that casted long, eerie shadows along the bars of cells that filled up the longer walls of the stretching hallway, and grey, concrete floors.

The stenches of rusting metal, decaying bodies and chemicals crowded Shikyo's nostrils. His ears were bombarded with the low hums of machinery, the groans and complaints of other prisoners, and the clangs of rustling metal.

Shikyo's wrists suddenly throbbed and burned, as if they had been stung by hundreds of wasps, and his feet were stopped in their tracks as the officer behind him tugged on his handcuffs. He swivelled his head back to look down at his wrists, seeing purple marks implanted in the delicate skin from the force of the pull. His breath hitched in his throat agonizingly.

"Stop here," the officer commanded him. The burly man unlocked Shikyo's handcuffs with a small click and slid them off the thief's wrists.

Shikyo sighed in relief and massaged the purple marks engraved in his skin. Even in the gloomy atmosphere, among the gut-wrenching stenches and clangs of metal, everything seemed content.

Until he felt himself get body-slammed into the ground. His panic receptors went off in his head like blaring alarms. He tried to look up and he tried to scream, but his head was smushed against the cold, concrete prison floors. His humanity slowly began to slip away from him as he felt a cold air brush against his bare skin - he had been stripped to his undergarments. He felt like an animal being handled by animal tamers. He felt lower than he ever had before.

Thee forces pressing Shikyo down to the ground released the boy just as quickly as they had gotten a grip on him.

The storm had passed. Everything was calm.

Shikyo forced his head off the ground and pushed himself into a sitting position with his arms. He looked up to see a shadowy figure standing over him, which he presumed to be a staff member at the prison. Shivers and goosebumps made themselves at home on his skin.

The shadowy figure above him slapped a worn, grey set of clothing down on the floor beside him.

"Hurry up and put that on," they ordered in a voice colder than ice.

Shikyo nodded shakily, reaching a pale hand out towards the clothing. He shakily slipped the outfit on in a matter of around five minutes.

The outfit was drab and ill-fitting. It consisted of an awfully loose, grey, bloodstained jumpsuit that reeked of mold and rot.

It made him feel gross.

The authoritative figure suddenly snapped a hand around his wrists, holding them behind his back, and began forcing him to walk forwards through the hall of jail cells.

The whir of machinery buzzed in Shikyo's ears, all the cameras he passed by turning their lenses to watch him eagerly.

His feet were now stripped bare. The floor felt ice cold under his feet.

After only seconds of walking, the figure leading him on stopped beside a cell that appeared to have one person inside. They unlocked the cell with a few clicks and clacks, and in a moment of time that felt like a blur, threw Shikyo inside the cell before slamming the bar door shut.

Shikyo's head was blaring and spinning from the force of the impact. He clutched it in agony and winced, his eyes clamped shut tightly.

The floor underneath him felt cold and damp, like a drying puddle of water underneath him.

"Ughh," he mumbled. His hands slowly loosened their tight grip on his head and his eyelids fluttered open. A feeling of contempt washed over him once again, before it was immediately replaced with fear; as soon as he had opened his eyes, he was met with another face, staring directly back at him. Yelping softly, he scootched backwards.

The other person's head tilted ever-so-slightly in a mocking manner.

"What's wrong?" They asked teasingly. "I'm not that ugly, am I?"

Shikyo shook his head, stammering under his breath in shock.

He could see that the other person was a boy that seemed to be somewhat around his age, presumably older, with tanned skin, dark brown hair that incorporated blonde highlights and shimmering, blue eyes that were sharp and observant. The stranger seemed fairly slim, but it was hard to tell under that baggy prison outfit he wore.

The stranger tilted his head at Shikyo.

"You 'right?" He chuckled, backing up a little himself to give Shikyo space.

"Uhhh..."

Shikyo was at a loss for words. This whole thing, from the heist to being thrown in prison stirred up conflicted feelings in his mind. For one, the heist was an adrenaline-rushing adventure, but on the other hand, he had just been very aggressively manhandled and dehumanized, and now his head and wrist both hurt terribly.

A chuckle came from the stranger.

"It's alright if you don't want to answer me," he began, "but at least tell me your name."

Shikyo couldn't force anything out of his mouth.

The stranger sighed.

"I'm Mateo, by the way," he introduced himself. "Mateo Flores."

"I'm Shikyo. Shikyo Fujimori," the thief croaked hoarsely.

Mateo nodded.

"Well, since you're new here, let me tell you how things work."

He stood up, dusted himself off and leaned back against a brick wall behind him.

"We get fed every day at seven AM, two PM and eight PM," he explained, fiddling with a strand of his hair. "Rations are usually meats, but sometimes we get rations of bread. Oh, and don't you dare ask for veggies or some shit. This place ain't vegan-friendly."

He shot Shikyo a glare.

Shikyo also forced himself off the ground and dusted himself off with a few fumbles here and here and there in his stance. He leaned back against a brick wall in the cell as well to keep his balance.

"Don't worry," he chuckled, his voice still somewhat hoarse from the previous shock, "I'm not vegan. I'll eat anything."

The corners of Mateo's lips curled up into the slightest smile, although that light-hearted display left his face as quickly as it had taken its place.

"Good to know," he replied.

His lips suddenly curled up into a wide smirk that reached his eyes. Prying his body off the wall behind him, he made his way over to Shikyo, standing in front of the thief in a playful stance.

"Say, have you gotten your 'welcome gift' yet?" He asked in a mocking tone.

Shikyo pressed himself back against the wall behind him and raised an eyebrow.

"'Welcome gift'?" He asked curiously.

Mateo nodded, tapping the back of his neck with a wry smile.

"Yes," he confirmed. "You'll get it soon enough. It keeps things orderly around here."

Shikyo chuckled nervously, fidgeting with his fingers.

"You probably should fill me in on what you're talking about, you know."

"Right, right."

Mateo rolled his eyes, keeping the wry smile on his face.

"Prisoners here do get used for some very...brutal...scientific experiments," he explained, his smile suddenly fading.

"Scientists are currently working on an advancement in technology where they stick chips into prisoners. It's non-negotiable, like the sentence that landed you here."

Shikyo's breath hitched in his throat once again.

"What for?" He asked.

His hands curled up into fists by his sides, sending shots of pain down his already sore wrists. He winced, but didn't change his position.

"To keep tabs on you - make sure you're not wandering off and getting any ideas. Some say it does other things... Mainly keeps you in line though, you know."

He offered Shikyo a suggestive smile and shrugged his shoulders.

"I..." Shikyo began. Horror dawned on him like falling rain.

Oh, I really am in deep shit! He thought with trepidation.

Mateo, noticing the thief's troubled expression, chuckled darkly and tilted his head a tad to the side.

"Just a friendly tip, Newbie," he began softly, "try not to think too loudly."

Shikyo opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the clacking of heels ambling across concrete floors.

Mateo's eyes suddenly widened. He suddenly grabbed Shikyo by the arm and pulled the boy towards the ground with him urgently.

"Quick! Pretend you're sleeping!" He hissed.

Hastily, Shikyo complied. He knew he couldn't trust Mateo, but since the prisoner knew more about this place than Shikyo himself, he didn't really have a choice.

He faced the bars of the cell he was in as he laid down on the icy floor beside Mateo. His eyes were left a peek open to see who Mateo was so concerned about.

The clacking of heels gradually increased in volume until a tall, curvy woman with chestnut brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and hazel eyes, sporting a navy-blue prison guard uniform came into view. She stopped in front of the cell parallel to the one Shikyo was in and peeked inside with her hands on two of the metal bars.

"It's time for your implant!" The prison guard announced excitedly. She pulled out a set of shiny, gold keys from her pocket, slotted them into a keyhole beside the cell door and then swung the door open. Her figure disappeared into the haunting shadows in that cell.

All of a sudden, the sounds of protests and complaints echoed from inside the cell:

"I don't want to!"

"Stop writhing!"

Then, SQUELCH!

Blood sprayed out of the shadows and landed outside the open cell door.

Shikyo's breathing quickened. The coldness of the floor he had pressed himself against no longer bother him; his eyes were fixed on the blood staining the nearby floors. He broke into a cold sweat of terror.

That could be me soon.

The prison guard emerged from the darkness she was previously in, carrying an unconscious prisoner bridal style. Her heels clacked obnoxiously against the cold, concrete floors once again as she departed from the long hallway of prison cells.

Minutes passed. The hallway was left in silence. Shikyo could only hear the sounds of his own breathing. His dark eyes lingered on the bloodstains, unblinking, as if he were in a trance. His heat pounded in his ears.

The air was thick and suffocating. Shikyo waited for a signal from Mateo to suggest safety. Minutes passed. There was nothing.

Then, finally, Mateo sat up.

"Phew!" He sighed hoarsely. "That was close! Don't want her to notice us watching her do her 'business'!"

Shikyo also sat up, relieved to have his cheek off the cold floor more than anything. His eyes still flickered over to the blood lingering on the cell parallel to his, once in a while.

"Who was that?" He asked. As he did, he felt shivers run down his spine.

Mateo chuckled, his signature, wry smile returning.

"That's Valentina," he said bluntly. "You'll have a fun introduction with her. It'll probably involve a friendly chat about your life choices...delivered through gritted teeth, while she's demonstrating how to properly use a pain compliance tool. Don't worry about it though; it's all part of the 'Ashmound Hotel Welcome Package.'"

Humour lined his voice as he spoke, as if he had gotten used to watching these sorts of things. He locked eyes with Shikyo. As he did, Shikyo could barely see a flicker of trepidation Mateo's bright blue eyes, despite the humour his voice desperately grasped.

The thought of such brutality going on in Ashmound made Shikyo's spine crawl.

"Oh," he responded, chuckling meekly. "How fun."

Mateo bit his lip to contain his laughter.

"Just remember to blend in with the prison floors - though I think someone as lean as you would pass as a floor pretty easily!"

He pulled up a sleeve of his jumpsuit and flexed his bicep with a cheeky smile on his face.

Shikyo pouted frustratedly.

This guy's got some nerve, he thought. I don't think he knows who he's insulting here.

The thief reached out and smacked Mateo lightly on his exposed arm.

"Watch it," he warned. "I may look like a floorboard, but I'm not weak."

Mateo bit his lip again, covering his arm with the rolled-up sleeve of his jumpsuit.

"My bad, Newbie. Sorry!"

Shikyo grumbled. "It's Shikyo  - not 'Newbie'."

His dark eyes flicked down to the ground as he crossed his arms and pouted, still sitting on the floor of his cell.

This place sounds like so much fun...

Mateo, noticing Shikyo's closed-off demeanour, sighed and laid down beside the boy with a smile on his face.

"Don't worry," he purred in a lazy attempt to comfort Shikyo, "you'll love it here."

Shikyo sighed. In spite of his frustration, he barely just managed to pull a genuine smile onto his face.

I wish...