Phony [DISCONTINUED FOR A REBOOT]

CH 3 : Interloper

Red light filled the chamber, flickering along with the song of pained screams accompanied by blaring emergency sirens. The clanging sounds of another metallic door being forced open ordered him to keep his eye awake.

This is not a usual emergency.

This is not just another prisoner trying to escape.

This is not some kind of riot either.

There is someone, something, breaching into the prison and doing galaxy-knows-what to his fellow criminals. Whatever they are, a madman they must be.

As the entity is soundly closer to his cell, he prayed to whatever divine being up there to just let the prison guards whom he hated so much to just save them from their impending doom. Though, it is unlikely, as this has been going on for hours. Perhaps, the wardens just don't care, and sees their sure death as a good thing.

Clang!

It is here, his angel of death. He froze--not like he could run with his limbs chained to the floors. Anxiety and despair mixed in his chest, as the thought impossibly penetrable door is slowly crumbling. Something glowing thrusts out from the cracks like little thorns.

And finally, it opens.

He squinted at the small silhouette in front of him, trying to make out their features under the blinding red light. Black tufts of hair blooms from their scalp, a white streak clashes with the dark color. They wore a fancy suit, but not so glamorous as to be mistaken for an elite nor royalty. Their sleeves are rolled up, revealing a pair of jewel covered hands, like the ones that broke the door. But most of his attention is drawn to their eyes, it's glimmering gold, like artificial stars.

Something about them is strangely familiar but strange at the same time.

"Greetings, prisoner... um..." they pull out a small notebook and a pen from their pants pocket, "1.999... 2.000! Yes, forgive my forgetfulness, it's an inevitable fate of my nature."

That's strange, his assigned number is supposed to be 27403. Not that it matters if he's about to die, he just can't help the confused expression on his face.

"Ah, i'm just checking my vil--prisoners count, if you're wondering. It would be hell if i noted each of your assigned numbers wouldn't it?," they smile, but it feels empty.

And terrifying.

This person not only kill prisoners, but they also count them?! And he is going to be the 2.000th?! What kind of crazy serial killer are they?!

The person sits on one of the bigger crystals, their leg crossed over the other. "Now, be honest with me. What sins did you commit to be in this place?"

He gulps down a non-existent spit. Sins, that's a heavy way to put it. Well, he doesn't have any choice does he? What's a lie going to do in this situation anyway. He spilled everything, when he stole a power spheres and use it to fulfill his selfish ego, when he spiraled down the dark path and almost decimates his own homeland, when the rumored boy in orange who could bend nature to his will stopped his rampage. The person in front of him nods along his story, jotting down notes on his book.

"I'm glad that at least, you're an honest man. This makes everything easier for me, and you," they stood up, pocketing back their stuff, "There were only a few hundred honest prisoners i've met including yourself."

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, "How could you even TELL if i'm lying or not?"

They smile, this time a gentle one.

"Anyone who have enough sense could tell between a lie and a confession, and i am the one who has the most sense of all. I can simply wipe out all of you, but that's cruel, and to be a hero is to not be cruel.