Zoro X Robin: 3 Days Remastered

6 - A Swordsman's Nightmare

He stood outside the fence of his town's local prison, Shellsport Correctional Facility. The night was unforgiving, but he managed. He tucked the notebook into his pocket and grabbed his blades, using two of them to cut an opening into the chain fence. Slowing his breathing, he hid in the shadow of a building, created by the light of the corner and central watch towers. Shit. She only told me not to be seen. I have no damn clue which one of these buildings she's in. He took a breath. Logically, the warden's office and CO's office would be near the entrance gate. Furthermore, Robin was probably being held under heightened security, due to her being a "dangerous" prisoner. Using these facts, he supposed he could work out where she was. Eyes closed...Breathe...Listen... He heard the breaths of several people, which he assumed to be security guards. Peering around a corner, there were 4. None were remarkable, he found that suspicious.

He felt, somehow, that he was the one being watched. There's no time. I'll handle it. He left his abditory and attacked the armed officers. Of course, they were no match for him, but it was a trap. Just as he cut down the last soldier, he was shot in the back. Black. Not because of the starless sky, but because he couldn't open his eyes. However, he felt that even if he could, he wouldn't see a thing. First, it was the area around where he got shot, and then his whole body. It began to feel cold, but then he was numb. His ears rang, before complete silence. Slowly, all his senses betrayed him, and he fell unconscious.

...

BANG

He opened his eyes

The dark prison cell was cold and damp, with a musty smell that seeped into every crevice. The walls were made of gray stone, smooth in texture. The floor was hard and frigid. A small, barred window in the middle of the ceiling outside of the cells let in a faint glimmer of moonlight, but it did little to interrupt the unsettling mood. A thin blanket lay in a heap on a mattress on the floor. Zoro looked toward the cell door, through the bars he saw a tall man in a suit, wearing a hat, with a pigeon on his shoulder.

"What the hell is this? Who are you?"

"That isn't important. What's important is that you actively interfered with high-end government business. You'll be executed much in the same way she will. You have 3 days here, bounty hunter, before you're both executed." He walked away.

Zoro punched the wall, leaving a small crack in the otherwise pallid stone. His cell wasn't his only constraint. On either hand, was a separate steel cuff, individually chained to the wall. It's night. I've likely missed dinner... Don't panic... I'll figure something out. Unfortunately, his first night taught him nothing. He stayed up all night, thinking and surveying.

Morning...

Just when Zoro thought all was lost, he got breakfast, hot soup in a bowl, and a slice of bread, and had a spark of brilliance. The prison did this because it was a food that could be eaten without silverware, which dangerous prisoners weren't allowed to have. But as a swordsman, Zoro had a close relationship with steel. Years of swordsmanship taught him one thing - rust was a swordsman's nightmare. Heat, oxygen, salt, and water. All of these caused metal rust, and were abundant in his oceanic world. Together, the oxidation process could happen as quickly as a few days. He kicked the wall beside him.

"Hey, you!" He said. Of course, he would need more than one serving of hot soup, so he turned to his neighbor.

"Whaddya want?" asked a deep, scruffy voice.

"I need your soup."

"And then what'll I eat?"

"You can have the meat and veggies after I take the broth."

"Listen, pal. We're all in prison for a reason. I'd be stupid to trust you with my food."

He had a point.

"Look man you can have my bread. Do you want out of here or not?"

"Fine fine. Keep me posted."

"Another question. How often do they come in to inspect cells?"

"This is a high security holding-prison. Every prisoner here is considered dangerous. They wait until a prisoner is shipped off, before they come in and clean up the cell."

He smirked. That means I'm in no danger of getting caught. Hiding my progress would've been a pain. For hours, he dipped the cuffs into the bowls of steaming hot soup, continuing even after they ran cold. His arms ached from the constant motion, and his hands were red and sore from the heat. His wrists were blistered, and likely infected. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, blurring his vision. The monotonous dipping and withdrawing of the cuffs was torture, and the swordsman's shoulders sagged with exhaustion. But he couldn't stop - he had to escape. His only indication of time was the moonlight's rays gradually gliding from one wall to the other, until the room was inundated by the morning sun.

I guess that's day one.