The Beige Room

Chapter 2 - Archer POV

Archer woke up with a gasp, abrupt and jolting. His cavernous eyes rocked back and forth as they

brushed over the banal room. His vision was flooded with an ocean of the stale hues, their lack of

spirit infecting him with a chilly feeling of uneasiness.

He glided off the paperlike cot and began to inspect the other five victims trapped in here.

Immediately, his eyes were caught on the vivid pink hair of the comatose girl lying across the room.

Their shocking color was stark against the monotony of the chamber.

"Hey, you, you're awake too?" coughed the man perched on the cot next to his. Archer twisted around

and acknowledged the man with a preliminary grunt.

"Eh, you know how we got here?"

He let out a curt chuckle. "Do I look like I know anything?"

Archer snorted softly and turned away. He scanned the room absently, mostly out of boredom than fear. "Well, get comfortable."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the man rasped.

"Looks like we're gonna be here awhile," he replied flippantly, leaning against his cot with an

undisturbed countenance that almost resembled boredom. All of his prior angst had dissolved

quickly, as it usually does. He had grown accustomed to dire circumstances, and this one was quite

insipid in comparison.

"So...who are you?" the man inquired.

"You don't need to know," Archer replied instantly, his voice breezy and clipped. He detested useless

questions, and he deemed this stranger an adversary rather than an ally. For all he knew, these

people were his opponents, and he couldn't afford to interact with them so freely. He casted a wall of

cool passiveness over his visage, aiming for a taut hostility that would repel any shy interactions from other strangers.

    "Easy, boy," he warned. "Don't get snarky with me."

    Vexation curdled in Archer's chest. He whipped around and glared at the man, his mouth steely and

his jaw rigid. "Maybe you should keep your mouth shut, yeah?"

    "Look, kid," he snapped, "I fought in wars. This--this room means nothing to me! I ain't scared of anyone!"

    Archer kept his lips knitted together and refused to respond. Instead, he scrutinized the man across

from him, intimately sweeping his appearance. He was about forty years old, but he had creases in his

forehead that defied graceful aging. His gaze floated downward, scanning his

expression. The man had a charged energy about him, wearing a tough facade but Archer could

recognize the nerves behind his shaky voice and the shifty glare in his steely eyes.

    He absorbed his craggy army clothes and wiry muscles that authenticated his claim of having military

background. Archer reluctantly supposed that the man could be a good fighter, but there was no way

that he would trust him.

    Archer grunted softly and turned around again, facing the rows of sleepy people occupying the cots.

He refused to delve into any kind of conversation with the man.

    He shoved his hands in the pockets of his loose pants, probing for anything that could distract him.

The only thing he found was an old scrap of metal that he had snatched the day before, mistaking its

luster for a valuable coin. He sighed and climbed onto his cot, resting to assuage his sore muscles. He

tossed the shiny figment around in his hands, vacantly lost in its bouncy malleability. He kept toying

with it, eventually using it to scratch at his cuticles and occupy his hands for a moment.

    His reverie was ebbing and peaceful as he had succumbed to a world of cotton candy clouds and

whistling winds. However, the soft grunting of the girl next to him lurched him into reality. He glanced

up with a startling curiosity as her eyes fluttered open.

"Who are you?" she asked gingerly, her voice thick and syrupy.

Hey guys thanks for reading! Chapter 3 is already up, I can't wait for you all to meet Nala!

Love you all

P.S. This segment was written by Giselle

Her username is archerthearcher

~Bye~