Birthright: A Phoenix is Born

A Captive's Acquaintance

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The lightbulb dinged, blinking its tired light into existence. Before settling on a low fluorescence which illuminated my surroundings. I laid on a rigid slab that jetted from the wall's side. A similar bed wrapped in thin grey sheets protruded on the other side, prison jumpsuit on top. A dingy metal sink sat against the furthest wall between both beds as did a toilet with no lid. I refused to use them both.

Mercer led me here after my limousine ride with instructions to, Get comfortable. And with any luck, my friends would join me soon.. If Koju had any sense, he would have left Ireland with that boy already.

Damian.

My heart throbbed at his name. If life was like those Korean dramas, then this was meant to be a sign. Yet his face alone would turn any infatuation sour, thick curds of hate now building ready to engulf me in sickening disdain.

No clock donned the walls and after a very thorough frisking for more useful items, I received my own baggy orange garb to wear. Keeping track of time by count seemed the only choice. Four hours had passed since my capture. I huffed, wondering what caused the grinding hum outside. The excess breath a mistake as it allowed that subtle scent of dung to violate my nose again. Hoping to forget the stench, I poured my all into finding a distraction. Landing on the view of the padlocked gate which stiffened my body.

If I had my scrunchie I could pick it in seconds or with a strong enough kick I could break it.

However, what next?

I don't even know where I am.

With so many unknown variables to account for, rushing to escape was foolish. So I stayed put, at least for now.

Beyond my cell, the huge metal door shuddered, then creaked its long way open. Igniting a set of LED panels above. The first to enter was Mercer, dressed in a flamboyant red wine suit with a black shirt underneath, his hair knotted in a bun and turquoise cream smeared his face. A mocha toned woman in nursing attire trailed him, her face masked by a black hood. Lastly Mr White rounded the entourage.

I crawled towards my cell's entry. Though escape remained unlikely, Mercer needed to think otherwise.

"Appear weak when you are strong." -Sun Tzu, The Art of War. Koju made me memorize that book at six.

At my advancement, Mercer withdrew the gun from earlier. This time aimed at the captive's head, every definition highlighted under the bright light. A semi-mechanized Glock 19 pistol with a long black attachment lazed in his palm. Treads of spiders imprinted my forearm, evoking memories of weapons training with Koju. One had to train diligently to master the sword or staff. With a gun, even fools like Mercer became powerful.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Elizabeth you should know by now escape isn't happening." Mercer snarled. "So if you don't crawl back with your hands where I can see them, I'm going to decorate your cell with this woman's brains."

I did as instructed, pulling back to watch his smile widen. Damian aside, nothing in this world unhinged me quite like that smile. My nails clawed off large chunks of concrete flooring, clogging blood at the fingertips.

Mercer whipped off his prisoner's mask and thrust her into the cell. She plummeted to the ground sending dust clouds in every direction. Wrists bound with plastic cables. Yet only holding on by their ends. It was clear when she broke free there would be hell to pay.

"I hope you enjoy your new accommodation, renovating an old storeroom is difficult but Mercer Tex does its best to entertain its guests."

He leaned in, we turned with a combined leer.