Ghost Rider

CHAPTER XXXIII: Friends

I raised my grimy, trembling fingers to my face to block the onslaught of the light. It was utterly blinding after being in the dark for a while. It's amazing how quickly your eyes adjust sometimes. As my emerald orbs finally focused on the figure strutting into my cell, I realized it was Viggo.

My brain didn't really process who this was to me, or the small but definite connections we had shared in the past.

The only things that registered in my befuddled mind were:

Viggo. Last name: Grimborn. Grimborn means danger.

With that thought passing through my head, I scooted to the far side of my cell, absolutely drained from the terrible beating I had endured that very day.

In fact, at that moment, I wasn't entirely sure my body would be capable enough to withstand another round of flying fists towards my defenseless form.

I wrapped my arms around my ribcage, which was now protruding, more than ever, visibly from the rest of my body.

It was a subconscious thing to do, we all do it when we feel uncomfortable or threatened. Not that it would have offered much protection against the strong hands that would drag me from my solitary cell, which seemed more of a refuge now, and into the Captain's chambers where I would be mercilessly be tortured again.

However, this particular visit didn't go as I had assumed it would. Although, I enjoyed things going as planned, I didn't reject this change of pace.

He raised one of his hands in surrender, showing me he was unarmed. I noticed now that he was holding something in the other hand; a satchel, or leather bag of some sort. My fear began to transform to curiosity. I wondered what the contents of this mysteriously bag was.

Viggo closed the door to my cell, locking the two of us in suffocating darkness. Before doing so, however, he opened the small door where my food was passed through. I assumed this was so at least a small amount of lighting could flow through my dark confinement.

He could have closed the door for two reasons. One, so I couldn't attempt to escape. Or two, so no one would notice he was conversing with their prisoner, who was indeed in solitary confinement.

I personally believe it was the latter. Noting the fact that his father didn't seem to pleased about him being in any way affiliated with me.

What I didn't understand, is why he had come here in the first place.

What does he have to gain by this visit? I wondered, but I didn't inquire aloud because I didn't want to upset him. Although, I have rarely witnessed him angry. Considering he's a Grimborn, he possesses amazing control over his temper.

Instead, I voiced another query.

"What's in the bag?" I questioned curtly, nodding my chin in the direction of the leather sack.

"Think of it as an apology gift." He answered smoothly, his accent thick in every syllable.

"Ok," I answered slowly, unsure of where this would lead. "What is it?"

He slowly approached me, so that he was about three feet away from where I was sitting, backed against the wall.

He then stopped, and sat down in front of me. Viggo pulled some of the contents of the bag, and handed it to me.

It was hard to distinguish in the dim lighting of my metal cell, but my nose told me that it was an edible substance. It smelled like it was possibly bread.