Assassin's Redemption

As You Wish...

The first thing I noticed upon setting foot inside the dark, dingy cell was the heavy scent of something dry with a touch of metallic. Splashes of a crusty dark colour from my previous visits was now covered by a lighter, and sticky-wet substance. Though it was difficult to see in the lightning I had seen the exact colours enough to know that the darker ones were a deep red that straddled the threshold of brown and the fresher samples were bright like crimson. The worst of it caked a figure on the ground, limp, lifeless, and settled into an uncomfortable jumble of limbs. The body scarcely resembled what it was anymore. It strongly resembled ground beef. The iron cuffs that were attached to where wrists and ankles had once been clearly defined were difficult to make out. Their exact locations could only be made out because of the heavy chains that snaked towards their links built into the stone floor.

I felt a stillness settle upon the scene. Everything seemed like it was frozen in time and I was an interloper. My breathing stilled until I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Something scuttled across the cell before it managed to escape into a hole and that was enough to break the eerie enchantment of this place.

A lump formed in my throat and it felt as though my bird had transformed into a panicked bird trying to escape the cavity of my chest upon the realization of what this meant. This man was my responsibility! He wasn't supposed to be dead! Had had this even happened!?

I knelt beside the man and turned over his arm. A jagged stone fell and I let the arm fall back to the ground as the answer revealed itself through the gashes all over this man's body. They were deep, brutal, and wild as the desperate last attempts of a man to free himself. No man who could do this to himself could be completely sane at this point. I knew it had to hurt and he would have tried slowly. He probably had some sort of seizure would let to his awkward position. Suicides were not an uncommon fate to befall the captives belonging to my grandfather's dungeons. Typically it didn't actually matter if a prisoner offed themselves because it meant another nuisance had bit the dust. There were a few exceptions like when they had some valuable piece of information. Even in such instances there are usually other ways to procure information. Knowing all that did nothing to reassure me. My prisoner hadn't been the type bearing information but he was supposed to live for a least a week.

I had known suicide was a possibility and had even searched the cell to insure he didn't have that kind of escape available. The miserable atmosphere was overwhelming the moment anyone even set foot in this vile place and for good reason. I didn't think anyone was better at torture than my grandfather. No one who entered as a prisoner ever left here alive.

I rose to my feet again, my panic giving way to anger. A stream of Arabic words flowed out seemly of their own accord. I turned quickly and slammed the cell door shut with a heavy clang. I stomped back to the spiral staircase that led into this hell, focusing on the way each footfall resonated through this place.

I was so absorbed in my own noise that I was caught off guard when I heard a guttural snarl and the rattling of chains. My eyes whipped to the offending sound and I instinctively jumped back as a pale skinned man reached for me, the chain around his neck that he pulled against causing a violent coughing fit. His fingernails were way too long and his ribs were prominent through the sallow skin clinging to his naked figure. The flickering light from the torchlight hanging on a bracket caused a glint in the creature's dark eyes. He panted for a moment before he went ballistic again, swiping at me wildly. I shook my head and hurriedly pressed on.

Such a fate was met frequently here. Often times the torture was intolerable and people snapped. If the prisoner was one of the few who held information then they had a way out. A merciful was was granted in exchange for their information. Anyone else was tortured until death where they either snapped or didn't. Some of the training I'd had to endure was meant to prepare me for such a fate as that that these people faced. My endurance for pain was high so I would never lose my mind the way that man had... well- that was the idea anyways. It also made me more effective in a fight. Pain is a powerful distraction but if you can fight through it your odds of success increase. The logic of it makes sense to me which is why I trust my grandfather's tactics and follow his orders without question or complaint.