Rogue
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 21, '23 3:54am
Thread Topic: Rogue
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Chains rattle as footsteps echo through the halls. Heavy boots march along the hard, metal flooring. The LED lights overhead flicker ominously as we pass under them; and just before us stands a silhouette cloaked in shadows.
I stare down at my chained wrists with a grimace, lowly growling as the men behind me poke and prod at me, pushing me to go on. The men remain clustered around me, rifles at the ready in case I try to make a daring escape. But I loathe them. I loathe them all. They don't scare me. To think that any of these men would be on my level of combat would be absurd. I could take them all in 30 seconds or less and, just like that, break free again, but I can't. Even though I could easily take these guards on, I could never get away from the premises without at least getting chased down by the only man who could ever match and surpass my skill. And that man—well, I don't loathe him. He's far too worthy an opponent. And as he stands before me, his blue-green eyes reflect the LEDs, holding a firm but ambiguous gaze directly on me. Part of me feels chilled to the bone, but another part of me wants to take a swing at him for dare looking at me like that. My eyes dart around, considering my options for escape, but the moment I take my eyes off the man, he draws his rapier and holds it where I can see it. I growl and settle my eyes on him again, inwardly giving up the idea to move.
The guards then stop and hold me steady—the one directly behind me sounding off my information as if it is written all over my back. "Name: 'Jay Nevada de Luz'
Sex: Female
Age: 18
Height: 5 feet, 7 inches
If you recall, sir, she was captured and taken into custody two years ago for war crimes committed as a child soldier."
"Yeah," the man ahead of me replies calmly but somehow seriously, "I remember. I was the one who brought her in."
"As she is a legal adult, she can now be appropriately punished for her crimes."
Scowling, I snatch my head around as far as possible to look to the man behind me with a death stare. "AHEM!"
"...or," the man reluctantly goes on, "if none of the usual punishments fit and you'd like to take a different approach, you may be able to suggest something to faculty that will appeal."
Sheathing his rapier, the man takes a taller stance, letting out a weary sigh before putting his hands on his hips. "I see... How soon could I get a meeting with faculty?"
The guard stammers in shock. "B-but, sir, she's an assassin!"
Sharpening his gaze through the shadows and folding his arms, the man repeats himself in a sterner voice. "How soon can I get a meeting with faculty?"
"D-I—that's—(sighs) three days, sir," the guard replies, disheartened.
"Put her back in her cell, for now, and I'll get back to you after the meeting."
"Yes, sir," the guard replies, turning around and escorting me back down the hall.
My mind races to know just what that man could be planning for my life. He's certainly too soft to suggest the death penalty...at least, I thought... -
The day of the meeting, I can hear a lot of shouting coming from the meeting hall above me. I'm one level under the hall, but even though my cell is right under the meeting taking place, the noise-proofing in the floors and ceilings makes it impossible for me to make out any words, and I can hardly recognize voices. I sit scrunched up in the corner of my cell, holding my ear to the wall in hopes to make out even a single word.
"Choomp bahk kaba myschitktamb!"
"Anshee cobuh gill smer or en!"
"Sheeshuh chijuh! Ee idinn o biddybeddah."
"Andambah ebu?!"
"Ugh!" I groan and shake my head, putting my hand on my forehead, unable to make sense of the muffled argument no matter how hard I try. Then, the strangest thing catches my ear: a single phrase, and then silence.
I jump when I hear the metal door to the prison level open, and then I hear the marching of feet.
A guard comes over to my cell, unlocking the door and readying his handcuffs. "Up. You are to appear before the faculty."
"Huh?" As I rise and stand in confusion, he clicks the handcuffs on me faster than I can take in his words, and at once, I feel myself being shoved towards the upper level. I soon find myself in the presence of several men and women who all stare down from the benches at me standing in the middle of the room. I jump yet again when I hear footsteps approaching me after the guards walk away. I glance down a little and I see the man at my side—kinda short since he's only 5 foot 3, but, whatever.
In the darkness of the benches, a voice arises from the faculty. "Are you ready to state your case before faculty and fellow leaders, Mr. Miyagawa?"
The man's silky, black hair lightly brushes across his eyelids as he briefly closes his eyes, nodding. "I am." He then opens his eyes once more and begins. "As you all know, Miss De Luz was almost 17 years old when we apprehended her. She is almost 19, now, after two years of confinement, it is decided that she should be charged and punished for her offenses made as a child. I want to remind you all that this was a child abducted and forced into war. This was a child that was brainwashed and trained as an assassin since she was young. Imagine yourself in her place, and I would assume you wouldn't know anything else in your life. We kept her in confinement for two years to wipe her mind and reconstruct her behavior. While I can't say she has been fully retrained in this area, I can say she's definitely less violent and unpredictable. It's been 7 months since her last attempt at attacking personnel. I would say that's some serious progress that deserves to be noticed. I'm afraid that if we put her in prison or give her any worse treatment than she's already endured, she will become the terrorist she was shaped to be. But I believe that if we give her a chance now, while change is at hand, she can still be saved."
An elderly man stands up, raising another question. "Then how would we go about this without putting other's at risk?"
"I'd say..." The man beside me pauses for a moment. Though his speech seemed so confident and authoritative before, he know appears to be hesitant. But, slowly finding heart again, he continues. "I'd say let her out on parole. But instead of letting her go to whatever family she wants, one of use soldiers look after her, so that, in the event anything happens and she relapses, it will be handled swiftly and risk will be kept at a minimum."
"And, who do you think would volunteer to do such work," the elderly man asks sarcastically, knowing that no one would want to.
"I-I would, sir," the man beside me replies.
"Connor?" a female gasps from the crowd.
"I would gladly," Connor repeats.
The elderly man freezes before working up an awkward smile. "Surely you must be joking, Miyagawa. You handle her? Why, you're so gentle, you can't even be assertive to a puppy!" The old man then starts laughing, but his laughter echos in the silence of the whole assembly. Hearing his own voice to be the only to mock the young man, the elder grows silent.
A woman then speaks up. "Mr. Ziyder, please take this seriously as all colleagues are to be treated with respect." She then gestures to Connor. "I believe this young man is capable of great things, as he is one of our most trained soldiers here. And given his gentleness, I'd say there is no better choice than Mr. Miyagawa. So, all in favor of this being the alternative to De Luz's imprisonment—"
At once, a large uproar in agreement breaks out among the seats, and I stand in shock as nearly the entire hall agrees.
"Then it is settled," the woman says. "Connor Miyagawa will be Jay de Luz's guardian until she is released from parole. You may all be dismissed."
As faculty clears out from the meeting hall, I'm still standing in shock, even as the guards release me from my handcuffs.
Connor eyes me silently but...compassionately?... -
Leaving the building and heading to the parking lot, Connor looks at me, holding two helmets in one hand hand and a camouflage bag tossed over his shoulder in the other. "So, looking forward to life as a free citizen?"
I fix my eyes on the asphalt, reluctant to even speak.
"Don't have much to say outside of trash talking, huh? Alright, no prob. The least you could say is 'thank you'. Just a suggestion, though."
"Why did you do that," I snap, unable to hold it in. "You think I WANT to be stuck with you forever?!"
"Do you think I wanna be stuck with a criminal freeloader forever?" My face turns red in fury, but I am unable to come up with a reply. "Look, you and I both know if you took the original sentence, you'd never see the light of day again. And considering you're an orphan, there's no family we could trust to look after you and monitor your behavior. And aside from that, if you managed to get out of prison at any point before you died of old age, you'd be homeless. So, frankly, this was the best option." Connor then throws a helmet into my arms, walking past me and to his motorcycle.
I scoff, rolling my eyes. "And you care what happens to me—why?"
Stopping for a moment, Connor looks back over his shoulder with a small smile. "I've been in your shoes, kid."
I stare in awe as he climbs on his motorcycle, but when he looks back and see me standing still, he chuckles, catching my attention.
"Hop on. I've got enough room." -
Connor pulls off from the parking lot of the secluded base, leaving through the gates after scanning his badge. As he speeds up and hits the lone road leading out from the middle of nowhere, inertia jerks me backwards.
"Hang on tight, 'kay?" he warns, glancing back over his shoulder.
I lean in, reluctantly tightening my grip around his waist, closing my eyes as I only feel the motorcycle go faster and faster. "Where are we going," I ask in an annoyed shout, gritting my teeth afterwards.
"Just enjoy the ride, kid. You'll see in a minute, and I promise you'll like it," Connor replies, watching the road.
I growl, but as I open my eyes and look down at the road, a cyan-colored light flies by on the side of the road. Curious, I bring my head up and look to both sides of the road, seeing the road lined with cyan lights. I gasp, and my eyes grow huge as I follow the lights down the road and all the way towards a group of tall buildings. Each building has unique light patterns as they all flash and brighten up the sky just as the sun sets.
"H-huh?"
"Ah, you're awake," Connor chuckles. "Wasn't expecting you to pass out on me, but that works I guess.
"Where are we?"
"My home city. Like the faculty ruled earlier, you'll be in my care. Don't worry, though. This place is awesome."
I'm speechless as we ride through the streets, watching all the electronic billboards, making note of all the shops, and even catching a live band preforming in a park full of fans waving sparklers around. A little bit later, we end up in a quieter neighborhood with more trees and houses like a town.
Connor pulls into a driveway and parks his motorcycle. "Here we are," he announces, getting off the bike. Taking his bag with him, he heads to the front door, digging into his pocket to grab his keys. He unlocks the door and gestures for me to go inside. "Wouldn't advise sleeping out here. The mosquitoes suck, no pun intended."
I follow Connor inside, gazing around at the house. I look to him as he locks the door and then turns to go upstairs.
"There's a room up here you can have. I already set it up for you." I go up the stairs and he leads me down the hall to a closed room. Connor slowly opens the door. "Here ya go. I wasn't sure what you like, so it's not much, right now. Hopefully we'll find some things to help you feel more at home. But, for now, this should be okay."
The room has dark wood flooring and a bed to match. The bedsheets are green, and at the edge of the bed sits a white pegasus plush. In the right corner of the room is a bookcase with a few books and in the other corner is a dresser. Across from the bed is a floor mirror, and the rest of the room is empty.
I sharpen my honey-colored eyes, looking at the plush, but Connor catches my scowl and addresses it at once. "Hey, don't look like that. My daughter picked that for you."
I jump and turn back to him with the deepest look of confusion. "Eh?"
"Yeah, she's with my sister whenever I'm on duty. And not that I don't trust you, but I don't want to bring her back here until we've gotten a bit further on your rehabilitation program.
"Anyways, hope you sleep well. I'm (yawns)—going to bed." Connor dissappears off further down the hall, slipping into his room and closing the door.
I go into my room and close the door. I look at the books on the bookcase, hoping to find a story to read until I can go to bed, but the first book I grab is blank, and a pen is clipped to the spine. I open the book and see blank pages to write in. I think for a moment and take the book back to my bed, climbing under the covers and beginning to write in the silence of the night. -
"Mmnnnn. N-not...ready...to get up..." I toss and turn in bed as I try not to wake up, but between the stupid birds outside and the sunlight slapping me in the face, I find the morning prying my crusty eyes open. "Ugh! What the heck?!" I throw myself out of bed and turn to the mirror, seeing myself looking as if I got jumped. "Ugh."
Stomping down the stairs and smelling something cooking, I storm into the kitchen and head straight for the coffeemaker I didn't even know existed as Connor stands at the stove. He turns around as I struggle to pop a pod into the coffeemaker to brew a cup.
"Bro, are you always angry?" he laughs.
"SHUT UP," I snap.
"Guess that answers my question."
"Aren't you supposed to be at work or something?"
Bringing a plate away from the stove and setting it on the table, Connor shakes his head. "Nah. I get the week off.
"I made you some food, if you're interested. Teenagers still like food, right?" he jokes.
I sit down at the table with my cup of coffee and snatch the plate towards myself, no answering.
"(Scoff) How old are you, anyway?"
"How—old am I," Connor repeats, bringing his own plate to the table and sitting down. "I am...older than I wish to be, but not old enough, it would seem." Grabbing his chopsticks, he then begins to eat a plate of eggs, rice, and vegetables.
"That's not an answer," I retort.
"Maybe not the one you were looking for," Connor remarks, "but an answer, nonetheless."
"Are you always this annoying?"
"Are you always so messy? Looks like you've never seen a brush in your life."
I slam my hands down on the table, locking my teeth together and staring straight into his laid-back eyes. "Look here, I am a trained assassin! I will not hesitate to take that thick skull off your shoulders."
"Facts," Connor chuckles, mouth full. "You'll have to catch me first, though."
I grimace and back away a bit. Out of all the people I've dealt with, Connor is the only one I've ever faced that isn't even slightly intimidated by me. He even goes so far as to make fun of me. It irks me and makes me want to take him out.
"Look, I've been a soldier for over ten years; psychological warfare doesn't work on me, especially when the one threatening me has an ankle bracelet." I seethe as Connor continues. "Now, you can either spend your time here trading insults or trying to get yourself together. The choice is yours."
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