Haven's Addiction

I would like to say that I woke up with a start, just like in the movies, but that definitely wasn’t the case. I rose just as groggy as how I fell asleep. Apparently whatever they had drugged me with lingered in my system. After what seemed like an eternity I became aware that I was in an unfamiliar place, and not a friendly one either.

I looked around and found myself in a small room that was unmistakably a prison cell, a small stone room no bigger than a walk in closet. The heavy wooden door looked foreboding and solid. Nothing else adorned the room, not even straw to lay on as I woke on the cold stone floor. A small barred window far up to the ceiling let in just barely enough light to see, and was too far away for me to possibly reach. I had no idea how long had I been out. The sun was just beginning to set when we first entered the passageways that led to the inn. I couldn’t tell of the dim light was from sunrise the next morning, or just moments after we got got in their trap.

That’s right, the trap. We were led into a trap and hadn’t even seen it coming. My mind started to clear up as I reasoned how I got into this predicament. Fuzzy details became clearer as I sorted out the haze in my mind. Was John in on it, or had the old woman acted alone? Had any of the others been captured as well, or was it just me? If the others fell for the ruse, then I didn’t feel as bad. They were seasoned adventurers, most of them, and if they couldn’t see it coming then I didn’t stand a chance.

But then, why hadn’t my spidey-sense warned me of the danger? Maybe it didn’t known of the impending betrayal at the time. My sense for detecting danger was really my subconscious mind noticing things about my environment that could prove dangerous. Something that, on a conscious level, I hadn’t yet noticed. The sound of breathing from someone lurking in the shadows, a door that was open a crack, subtle signs that someone was lying, etc. The Psionic ability of it was merely the bridge of my subconscious mind alerting my conscious mind like a warning klaxon that something wasn’t right so that I could become aware and do something about it. In a way, it’s an ability I’ve always had. In fact, everyone does. The Psionic aspect of it is merely refining that natural ability and embracing it instead of ignoring it.

Granted, I’m still a novice at this, but the fact that I didn’t have an inkling meant that these guys were exceptionally skilled at deception Their ruse was so perfect that nothing seemed out of place in my mind, even on a subconscious level. Even the others in our merry band didn’t show any sign of suspicion. Maybe that was the sound I heard that kept me from falling asleep right away. Someone realized something was wrong and put up a struggle.

I had to admit, though, that it was a genius setup. With the burstshrooms around town it was impossible to get through without getting at least some of the spores on you. Maybe not enough to be lethal, with just a bit of an itch like we had, but the fear of it being potentially fatal certainly got peoples attention. Lure them to the tub with a valid claim of cleansing from the potentially fatal spores, which was all true, only to put in a topical drug which would render them unconscious. Even if it didn’t knock them out, they were completely defenseless. Capture was inevitable. Now the question was, what were they going to do with us?

Even if I managed to escape I had no way of knowing where the others were, if they had even been captured. For all I knew they were already trying to find a way to bust me out, and all I would have to do is sit tight until they came for me. Something, however, told me that wasn’t the case. If I was going to get out of here I would have to do it on my own.

This would be one heck of a challenge. I didn’t have anything to work with, not even the clothes off my back. The bastards could have at least given me something to cover up with. Not only was it freezing cold, but humiliating. Perhaps that was the point, which made me like them even less.

Like any good prisoner, the first thing I did was scour the room for possible means of escape. There weren’t any. There wasn’t even a pot to piss in, literally.

Assholes.

I tried to reach out with my Sense for potential escape options, but as soon as I did the world erupted into a bolt of pain, like someone zapped me in the neck with a stun gun. I clutched at the source of the pain as I crumpled to the floor to find a solid metal collar wrapped tightly around my neck. When the pain subsided and I finished twitching on the stone floor, I felt around the device. There was a clasp in the back, but I couldn’t get it undone. The creeps who imprisoned me apparently put it there. My body was still fairly numb from the effects of whatever they drugged me with, and I hadn’t even noticed that the collar was there.

The collar seemed to be set off by trying to use Psionics, but I had to be sure. It may have seemed stupid to do something that would potentially get me shocked again. Even a lab rat knows not to push the button that shocks him again. Then again, I believed the rat would be pathetic to neglect a way to escape simply because he thought he might get shocked. I went to use my telekinesis to open the door and found out right away that my theory was correct.

The pain and convulsions were so intense the second time around that I became grateful they hadn’t given me any clothes to wear. Did you know that when you piss yourself while a powerful electric shock went through your entire body while completely naked, that it shoots forth in staccato streams instead of just running down your leg? See, you learn something new very day.

Needless to say, using my newly acquired abilities were out of the question until I could find a way to remove the collar. Regaining my senses took a while. The pain was so intense that I completely lost the will to move at all for a while. Electrocution doesn’t leave you physically drained, but emotionally. But I was too stubborn to give up entirely. Eventually I continued my search of the cell manually and still found nothing.

To pass the time I replayed the moments that got me there over and over in my mind. The trap was fairly obvious, and I felt pretty stupid for not seeing it sooner. John was in the fields that were a direct line from where we encountered the wolves to Placid. He simply waited for us. If there were agents of Gold in town, they must have been compromised, and likely tortured for information. With the amount of magic in Haven there are a myriad of ways to get whatever they wanted from him with mind reading and mind altering spells abound. Granted the use of these spells was highly illegal, but its not like any of that mattered out here in the middle of nowhere. It was possible that he had been converted to join the dark side, but it seemed more likely that they extracted information from him and then impersonated him. Gerald didn’t know what the guy would look like as long as he knew the proper code phrases. For all we knew there were half a dozen other ‘Johns’ lurking at other edges of town ready to spring the same trap on whoever came through.

What John told us seemed accurate enough to appease Gerald and throw him off of suspicion. The lack of security to the castle seemed plausible enough to appease Vincent. The curative medicines they immersed us in probably really did protect from the spores, so Edic didn’t suspect anything. Boregard’s sense of smell was still out of whack from the Borkin weed nearby, so he couldn’t tell if anything smelled fishy. These people had six months to work up a way to set the perfect trap for us, and anyone else who managed to get through. Worse of all, they managed to do so while being relatively honest with us. Whoever we were up against were good agents. James Bond is a newbie compared to these guys. Or maybe I was supposed to be Bond and these were the new era of magically endowed super-villains. Although I felt more like a clueless Austin Powers. Fortunately I had a few tricks up my own sleeve, even if I wasn’t wearing any.

My adversaries managed to strip me down. Ok, I stripped down for them, which made the predicament that much more humiliating. There was one thing they hadn’t robbed me of: my magical bracelets. While at Drognaus’s castle I had them fused together with a Heat spell so they couldn’t be removed. It was excruciatingly painful, but Drognaus agreed that it was essential. The process was the magical equivalent of searing the seams together with an arc welder while wearing them. The pain was indescribable, and the smell was even worse. To this day I still get queasy whenever I’m close to meat freshly cooked over an open flame. If not for magical healing, I would have probably lost my hands. The end result was a guarantee that nobody would ever be able to take my weapons away without lopping my hands off, which in retrospect may not have been the best of ideas. People have had their Rolex watches stolen in just that manner, and in Haven the arsenal attached to the bracelets would be worth several Rolex’s.

Whoever shanghaied us could probably tell what the bracers were supposed to be for, but had no idea the destructive power that lay within. At most they probably expected an assortment of swords, knives, bows, and magic wands. Boy were they in for a surprise. I may have been stuck in a cell, but I would have to face my captors at some point, and when I did it would be time to kick ass and chew bubble gum.

I couldn’t help but grin as I sat in my cell.

I had no idea how long it was before first contact with my captors. When I heard someone at the door I was sitting on the floor with my bare ass numb from the cold, cross legged, meditating, and patiently biding my time. I would only have one chance to catch them by surprise with my weapons. If I failed to blow them all away, literally, I probably wouldn’t get a second chance. I had to be sure from the moment I brought the weapons out. I played all the potential scenarios over in my mind during the hours they left me waiting. None of the scenarios I came up with came close in comparison to what eventually did happen.

The light from the hallway blinded me in my dimly lit surroundings as the door quickly jerked open. Someone was pushed through the opening, and just as suddenly it slammed shut again. So much for a valiant escape. Relief came, however, when I recognized the voice that screamed in pain as he fell to the floor.

“Edic?” I gasped as I came to his aid.

“Ugh,” he grumbled as he tried to get up off the floor. “Bailey, is that you?” His voice sounded strange. When I got a closer look at him I could see why. One side of his face was puffed up and swollen. He looked like he had been beaten pretty thoroughly.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I responded as I helped him up to a sitting position against the wall. In his arms was a bundle of items that I set aside. “What did they do to you?”

“Beatings. Interrogation,” he started to cry. “I’m not cut out for this kind of work. I’m a researcher.” Then he completely lost it and melted down into sobs. I felt like a heel, but I didn’t know what to do to console him. He was traumatized and in shock as he dazed off into his own little world, oblivious to the fact that I was even there, which helped ease the awkwardness.

I looked over the items that were in his arms when they shoved him in. My clothes were there, removed of any gear or enchanted items, of course. Edic was already fully dressed, but covered in blood from his injuries when they tortured him. There was also a canteen full of water and a leather pouch containing food. I quickly put my clothes on, doing my best to cover myself while doing so, not that it would have mattered since he was so out of it.

When I was finished getting dressed he finally broke the silence. “I caved. I told them everything. Our mission. Who we were. Why we were here.” Then he started crying again.

“Don’t worry about it. No one will hold it against you,” I tried to console him. “I probably would have caved even quicker. I’ve seen the Saw movies too many times.” He looked at me, confused, which was a nice change of pace.

“What about the others?” I tried to divert his attention.

“I haven’t seen them. They are probably having their turn in the chair right now.” His eyes remained vacant. I shuddered at wondering what being in the chair might entail. Nothing pleasant came to mind.

“Who are they?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. I’m not cut out for this,” he quivered again, his eyes going distant. I waited patiently for a few minutes until he came back to reality. “Agents of Placidious. Apparently they infiltrated master Gold’s agents, tortured them for information, and waited for anyone else to come around.”

“Did they catch you in the tub?”

“Yes, but not right away. I smelled the Garro oil while I was soaking. I tried to get out, but it had already taken effect. Landing on the floor was the last thing I remember before the beatings began.”

“Ah, so that was you,” I mused. He looked at me, puzzled. “You crawling out of the tub in the bathroom next to me was what snapped me out of it. I was coherent enough to try and climb out myself, and took one of them out in the process.”

He grinned at that and even chuckled a bit, even though it was painful with his swollen face. “Good.”

“How many are there?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I only saw the one,” he rubbed the side of his swollen face. I handed him the canteen and he held it against this face like a cold compress. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Don’t drink the water,” he muttered “It’s drugged. The food is clean, though.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

He nodded in response, looking away from me in embarrassment. “I found out the hard way. That’s part of how they got me to talk so quickly.”

I looked at the food pouch, but decided to save it for later. I was famished, but he obviously wasn’t going to have any appetite for a while. I didn’t think I could stand to eat alone in front of him.

“What do you think they’ll do with us?”

He shrugged slightly, his body noticeably aching from the movement. “Get what information they can from us, then kill us.”

“That’s not very nice. Guess we’ll have to disappoint them,” I smirked.

“Do you have a plan?”

I held up my wrists in front of his face clearly showing him the bracelets. His grin widened as much as it could with the swelling. He winced in pain as he did. “How did you mange to keep them?”

“I had Q seal them so they couldn’t be removed.”

He chuckled a little. “At least we’re not unarmed. But that still won’t get us out of here.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll have that covered too. I just don’t know how yet.” He looked at me, concerned. “I better make it quick. I don’t expect they’ll want to keep us around much longer.”

“Besides,” he agreed “we still have a mission to complete.”

“Yeah, that,” I gulped. I had almost forgotten about the book we were after. Funny how becoming a POW with the potential for torture makes you forget these things.

“You won’t be able to use those,” he pointed to the bracers.

“Why not?”

He gestured at the collar on his neck. It was just as snug as mine. It looked like a plain iron band about an inch wide covered with runes. I reached up to feel my own and could faintly feel the etchings.

“What are they?” I asked.

“Discipline collars,” he said with a tinge of hatred.

After hearing the name out loud I remember reading about them. The legal system in Haven used them extensively. Once latched around the neck they could only be removed by the specific command placed at the moment it is locked. Any attempts by the wearer to use Psionic or magical abilities resulted in, what the text described it as, ‘crippling the prisoner’. All prisoners were fitted with a collar whether it was known if they had abilities or not. Catching a criminal wouldn’t do any good if they could teleport away.

The person in control of the collar could also deliver a shock whenever they chose, as discipline. This feature was intended to be used whenever prisoners got rowdy or to keep them in check. However, this also left a lot of room to be abused, which happened enough that the feature was eventually outlawed from the collars. Considering our situation, I didn’t doubt that these collars carried that feature. Which meant that when we found a way to escape, we would need to make it quick. They would likely be able to incapacitate us on command the moment they realized we were on our way off of Alcatraz.

“Will it shock me even if not using a magical ability?” I asked, unsure.

“Yes. You still access the same part of the mind to activate the magical components. It is that part of the mind the collars read before debilitating.”

I didn’t remember reading about that in the articles I found, but I only skimmed them as I got interested in Haven’s court system. It seemed to make sense, but I’m sure it’s not a feature that was tested often, as prisoners normally have no access to enchanted items. Even if it did shock me it would only take once to bring a weapon out of the bracelets. Once out it would make an effective weapon without shocking me until it ran out of ammo. I didn’t want to find out for sure until the moment was right. For all I knew they were watching my cell. I didn’t know how much Edic told them, but the more I kept secret the better chance we had. I sighed in defeat and let the subject drop.

The feeling of failure for not bringing the weapons out fast enough when they brought Edic to the cell melted away as I realized it would have been a bust anyway. I would have gotten zapped and been unable to fire it off even if I managed to successfully bring a weapon out. If I had managed to squeeze off a few rounds, I would have likely hit Edic.

We sat in silence, stewing over our predicament, eventually eating some of the food they gave us to break up the awkwardness. I found out I was surprisingly hungry.

“What did you tell them about me?” I asked after finishing off a hunk of bread.

He looked over at me, horrified and offended. I forgot that he had been tortured for the information. I can really be an oblivious jerk sometimes. I waved my bracelets in the air in front of him to signify what I meant.

“Oh,” he said, finally catching on. “Just that you had powerful weapons and that I was unfamiliar with them. They came from your world and weren’t in my area of expertise.”

He was a smart guy and saw my weapons in action firsthand. I’m sure he had a general idea of how they worked. He was also smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. Even if he was being tortured, he gave them just enough information to make them content, but left out enough to potentially give us an edge. Besides, I’m the one they would be torturing for that information. I just hoped we came up with a plan before that happened. I had a feeling they would be tormenting me for a good long time to get specifics on the armaments I carried. Being stuck in Abu Ghraib sounded like a vacation compared to what I had in store for me.

There wasn’t much left to talk about other than possible means of escape. At least that’s all I wanted to talk about. Edic kept trying to change the subject to something else, anything else, like asking more about where I came from, why I thought I was here, and how extensive my knowledge of magic was. I kept deferring his attempts because I wanted to get the hell out of there. It felt like giving up and resigning my fate to that of a prisoner if I didn’t keep the hope of escape alive. I couldn’t blame him, really. It had to have been an incredibly traumatic experience. I certainly didn’t want to go through it. Not only because it would especially suck, but I had the unmistakable feeling that as soon as they got all the information they wanted from us they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us. These were obviously professionals who knew what they were doing, cold and calculated. In order to beat them we would need to be just as cold.

Eventually we stopped talking altogether and I went back to my plotting in silence. After several hours of this it became nothing more than praying for a roll of duct tape and a swiss army knife so I could McGyver our way out of there. My prayers weren’t answered.

I sat in the silence for countless hours plotting various ways to escape our predicament. I had so many plans in reserve that I eventually lost track. Some were outrageous and completely unrealistic, like ripping the discipline collar off with my bare hands and unleashing a psychic maelstrom, to play by play martial arts scenes in slow motion that would make Neo jealous. The vast majority of my ideas were similarly worthless, especially when the sun set in our little window and we were plunged in complete darkness.

The blackness was so terrifying that I sat with my back against the wall, not daring to move. The many whimsical fantasies that flew through my head were the only things keeping me sane, so I let my imagination unfurl. The only real noise available was our breathing and the occasional sobs from Edic, or maybe they were mine, I couldn’t say for certain.

Darkness, pure absolute lack-of-light blackness was the most terrifying experience of it all. You don’t know what is around you, and your imagination is your worst enemy. There could be nothing there, or a beast from your nightmares with large pointy fangs could be right in front of your face, ready to devour you. I’ve never been very afraid of the dark. With all the time I spent on my grandfathers farm in the summers as a kid I experienced complete blackouts enough times that I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. But for some reason, it suddenly terrified me the core.

The cold of the stone against my back and legs were a relieving comfort from the dark. It was the only thing that kept me anchored to reality. Without that sensation I would have felt like I was tumbling through a void, surrounded by whatever horrors awaited in my imagination. And with all of the creatures I witnessed in person, both in the Danger Room and since venturing on our little quest, there were a lot of monsters in my mind waiting to get out. Based on Edic’s sobs, I got the feeling that his imaginary monsters were running rampant. I stayed close to him, and made certain to be in physical contact with him so that he wouldn’t completely lose his mind in the darkness. I never thought I would be grateful to be grounded to a lowly prison cell.

Eventually I drifted off. I awoke to the sounds of struggling somewhere far away. A small sliver of dawn’s early light began to seep through the window. I hadn’t even realized that I fell asleep. I didn’t want to sleep, because I was afraid that as soon as I did it would be the moment they would come in and take me. Now that they knew for certain the destructive power of my firearms, and where they came from, they would have to catch me off guard to restrain me safely before I could unleash them. At least that was paranoia scenario number 237. It was also the one that stuck the most. To them I was a wild card that they needed to handle with care. I already took out one of their own before losing consciousness with a weapon they never encountered before. Since I apparently used my final moment of consciousness to return the pistol back to the bracelet, it was also a phantom weapon they couldn’t find. If they collaborated with the werewolves who survived the onslaught of our encampment, they would be even more wary of my presence.

The ruckus that appeared to be going on down the hall was too far away to discern. A few people were struggling. A heavy door, much like the one to our cell, opened. I could hear grunting, and what sounded like a sack of potatoes being thrown to the ground. Then the door was shut again. Footsteps echoing down the hall could be heard coming closer. The steps continued until they came to a stop right in front of our door. I could hear their boots shuffling outside. There was more than one of them out there. It sounded like two, possibly three. Then again, they could have been using magic to disguise their numbers.

The door to the cell opened inward. When it did we both slammed into it with all of our weight. It turned out to be more effective than I thought. The person opening it was already entering the doorway. When the door slammed home their arm got stuck in the door-jam with a sickening crunch. They screamed out in pain as Edic continued to apply pressure to the door, leaning in it with all his might. He didn’t have to hold it for long. All we needed was a few seconds.

Quick as a flash I peeked through the crack in the door, then activated the bracelet. “Say hello to my little friend,” I screamed through the pain of the discipline collar, although it came out sounding more like “Sahetomlifrend”. I released the assault rifle, the barrel of it sticking through the gap in the door. The shock of the collar kept my body convulsing, but that only made it easier for me to squeeze the trigger. All I needed to do was get one shot off. With the secondary trigger for the grenade in my grasp it launched out in a flash and I collapsed to the side behind the cover of the door, still twitching from the shock, which was just as well because I couldn’t hardly do anything else anyway.

The explosion was incredibly loud even when mostly muffled by the heavy door. A strong force rammed into the wood, pushing it a foot open despite our weight against it. Edic tried helping me to my feet as soon as it was over. We had to move fast and I couldn’t afford to be down long. I didn’t know if the blast would kill those outside the door. Even if it did, I had no way of knowing how long it would be before reinforcements came. I now held the rifle in hand, so as soon as the effects of the shock wore off I would be able to shoot with it until the clip came up dry. At the very least it would make an effective club after that.

My legs were wobbly at first, but Edic helped me up and we were finally able to wrench the heavy door open, rifle at the ready. The carnage that had been wrought was devastating. The grenade lodged itself smack into the chest of one of the people outside instead of bouncing off the hallway wall outside the door before detonating, which was my greatest concern with this plan. If it hadn’t detonated relatively close we would have been doomed. It completely ripped them apart with shrapnel at such close range. There was blood and gore everywhere, lining the long hallway and the door. Edic promptly threw up on the floor. I had to fight back to keep it in, which was an astounding feat considering I was already queasy from electroshock therapy.

The worst part of it all, what made me lose my lunch above anything else, was that the face of the person hit in the chest with the grenade, even though it was badly damaged, was clearly that of Gerald.

The faces of the other bodies laying in the hallway were Boregard and Vincent.