They sat in their cell, silent. There hadn’t been a word spoken as they all were removed from the room or separated, and even after, as Hector and Dez sat in their cell. One of the guards is silently sitting in front of the door, even now waiting. The point of his presence wasn’t missed; George was watching and awaiting their choice.
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And what a choice it was. Either accept their quickly approaching deaths, or sign off on a fate they knew nothing of. Dez felt no comfort in the moment, even his sense that, at very least, gave him some inkling of an idea of what was coming was useless. It simply vibrated so intensely with him that Dez almost thought he was shaking.
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He knew of someone who wouldn’t be nearly as perplexed. Hook's decision was already made; he was sure his old friend wouldn’t hesitate to take the gamble. Surely he’d say something about only a sucker would choose to die. And Dez felt somewhat the same.
His death sentence felt sudden and unfair, but it had been unavoidable, so he had accepted it. Seeing Hooks had broken him out of the stupor with rage, but even then, it had been mostly impulse; Dez would’ve let it go eventually, perhaps after another round with K or two.
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But now he knew there was a chance. A man had taken them and shown his power and sway, literally choosing whether he lived and died in front of them. And made them an offer, an escape from death. Who wouldn’t take it, what Brother would choose to die?
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Yet George’s face, the entire time stuck with him, the presence behind it as well. The man had shown emotion, but it wasn’t quite right. It was as if he wasn’t flowing through them naturally, as most did, but carefully selecting them in the moment. And with terrifying precision and skill, even with his instincts saying it was fake, Dez hesitated to call it such. But it was the perfection that made it seem fake, as if he were trying too hard, as if he had something to hide.
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And if the man was trying to hide the nefarious nature of his offer, he had done a poor job. By killing that man before them, he showed just how little he thought of them. If it was convenient or useful to them in the moment, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of them. And the shady way he had offered it to them. Away from witnesses, seemingly with the prison’s consent, and without much care for their thoughts.
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Dez hummed to himself as he looked downward towards Hector below him. The man had quickly collapsed into his bed and began frantic prayer on their arrival back. And ever since, they had done the same. But it had been a couple of hours already, and they didn’t have much more time to waste. He needed his thoughts; it concerned both of them. So Dez swung his legs over the side of the bunk and dropped to the floor. Hector didn’t move in response.
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“Ay Hector.” Dez tried. But the man didn’t move or speak; it was a bit annoying, but Dez held back on his agitation. It was his fault they were here after all. All the same, that made this all the more important.
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So Dez didn’t speak this time, merely walked over to the sink and turned it on. That didn’t spur Hector, but he left it on as he flushed the toilet once. The old toilet rattled as it had every time they used it, making a terrible noise. Enough so Hector shifted a little; the singing of rushing water continued as the toilet reset, and Dez flushed it again.
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The second rattle was more than enough. Hector lurched up, shooting Dez one of the most menacing glares he’d ever seen. “What is your problem, culo?” The man asked; his stance suggested he was ready to dash forward if Dez continued.
So he turned off the sink and raised his hands as he sat on the edge of the toilet seat. “My bad, but we need to talk.”
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“What is there to possibly talk about? Thanks to you, we have no time left. We need to make peace with Dios… and I need to make my inner peace with you before I kick your culo.” Hector replied.
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“But we don’t need to die,” Dez argued. It was strange that he had thought himself neutral, but hearing Hector so despondent and assured of their deaths made him indignant. Hector was right; it was his fault they had gotten here. So it was only right that he made it right the only way he could.
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“My friend, I know you can be manipulated, but surely you see George cannot be trusted?” Hector asked with a sigh. “He’s a paler, more evil version of that Hook fellow Dez.”
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“I knew you were saying it wrong on purpose!”
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“Oh shut it,” Hector said, covering his face and looking up into the roof as if asking Dios for the patience to deal with him. “It was a joke, I wouldn’t have said a word to you if I knew you’d be the death of me…”
“And I don’t have to be. But we have to do this deal with George.”
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“I thought a “rebel” as you would know better. Agua que no has de beber, déjala correr. If you're not gonna drink that water, let it flow.” Hector said, wagging his finger.
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“Do you have a saying for everything?” Dez said with a sigh of his own. “What does that mean?”
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“That this gringo is obviously baiting us, my friend! Offer us the one thing we want, to subject us to something worse!”
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“Be realistic, my man, what's worse than death?!” Dez snapped back.
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“Even you cannot be simple enough to think death is the worst fate there is.”
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“It is when you can avoid it.”
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“That’s your problem, Dez, you keep running from your problems! I’ve only known you for one day, but I can see it’s your problem! You ran from your own familia, ran away from the responsible choice of letting that man be instead of killing him, and now you are running away from your just deserts for such!”
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“So we deserve to die for a single mistake?!”
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“We killed people,” Hector said evenly. “Maybe you're less than me, my friend, but we were responsible for someone's last day on la Tierra. People with families and loved ones, people who wanted to live and had a right to do so, lost all of that. The people they left behind were permanently scarred, not because of Dios's will. But because we were too foolish to do better, and we knew better.”
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Dez was silent for a moment after that. Hector was similar to Hooks in that he was a good speaker, but he differed in the way he used it. He used blunt honesty and humility to force his opponent to be better. It was just as effective as it seemed; it was a shame he never got the chance to see the two interact much.
“So the only way to right that is to die?”
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“A life for a life,” Hector said. “It’s fitting for me… though I can understand that you would feel differently. We’re not friends, I like you, Dez, but not enough to do this. Don’t feel bad, and go ahead. But I’m staying…”
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“Is that the decision then?” The guard asked politely from outside the cell. “If so, I only need to call Mr. George.”
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“Shut it, bastard!” Dez roared at the guard, kicking at the cell door to work off some steam. He was surprised the other inmates hadn’t reacted. They must’ve been moved. However, he was stumped.
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His decision was made. Hector made great points, but Dez simply couldn’t accept his death. And he couldn’t live with himself if he knew Hector died because of his actions. But then an idea occurred to Dez.
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A moment later, his knees and legs grew weak. He stumbled as he was suddenly overcome by dizziness. His sense flared with strength he didn’t know it had. But Dez fought through it as he hatched his cruel plan. Hopefully, Hector didn’t get violent for the offense.
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“If you don’t go, I won't," Dez said simply. The idea was absurd; there were barely any friends despite the fact that they got along. Any normal person wouldn’t let their fate affect their own. If they wanted one thing and another, why not go their own ways? But Hector was different; the man had a much clearer idea. He had been polite and helpful since his arrival. Warning him of the Woods, backing him as much as he could with Hooks and K. He had even said it earlier, a good man didn’t ignore someone in need. The same guilt that Dez felt now, Hector would feel if Dez stayed and died. A classless and cruel tactic, but one he was confident would work.
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“I told you, don’t worry about me!”
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“I’m not, but if you're not going, neither am I. Maybe I just trust your judgement.” Dez said simply, climbing into his bunk as if he intended to sleep. “Besides, you're right, dirty sinners like us don’t deserve better.”
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“That’s low of you, my friend,” Hector growled from below him. “You know exactly what you're doing.”
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“Saving our lives, Hector,” Dez replied. “We haven’t known each other long, but I think you know me well enough to know I’m not bullshitting. We don’t have to die, and I won’t let us.”
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“So be it,” Hector said decidedly. “As I said, we deserve this anyway.”
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“Right.”
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“You realize that man was not bluffing? He’s not the type?”
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“Of course.”
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“Seven days, practically six from now, we’ll be strapped onto some sort of table and killed, my friend.”
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“Tragic.”
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There was a stretch of silence. But Dez was calm; he had won this exchange.
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“?Estar como un cencerro!” Hector roared. “Gringo out there! We’re in!”
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Dez only smiled.
Dez cursed and bucked against the man hauling him through the darkness once again. It had only taken minutes for the masked men to arrive like before. There had been no words; they had merely marched into the cell, restrained them, and injected them with something that knocked them out.
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It was impossible to tell how much time had passed during his forced rest. But when he awoke, he couldn’t see; some sort of hood was tied around his head, his hands were handcuffed, and his ankles shackled together. He attempted to call out to Hector or whoever was present, but Hector did not answer. No one did, in fact.
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For an unknowable amount of time, Dez sat in silence, the darkness making his heart race, a dark part of his mind wondering if they were gonna kill them and if he had led them to their doom anyway. There was occasional force, making him rock back and forth painfully in his binds. It took a couple of seconds, but he realized he was currently inside a moving car. There was no knowing where he was going.
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Eventually, he had felt the vehicle slide to a close before he was silently ripped from the car. Mostly drug forward, blind, and the men around him ignoring him, it was hard to tell what was happening. But it was clear the terrain was treacherous, and the men, by feel, were forced to lift him over their heads as they continued. He could tell by the lean forced on him as they climbed, and then he leaned the opposite way as they climbed down the other side.
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He was eventually allowed to walk on solid ground. Drug through what felt like a corridor before being forced to stand still.
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“Allow him to see. You’ll behave yourself, won’t you, Desmond?” George’s voice sounded out from the darkness. His head was lifted as whatever had been covering it was removed. Exposing him to the night sky and the thick woods around them. Dez shot George a glare, the man smirking at him, knowing full well he was gagged and wasn’t able to respond. “Oh, wait, you don’t like being referred to as Desmond, correct? What was it you went by? Dez? Cute, really.”
Dez’s gag was removed. “Go screw yourself, you twisted bastard.” He said evenly.
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“Adorable, truly. Either way.” George said, gesturing at the massive building behind him. “Welcome to your new home. I hope you enjoy your permanent new residence/career!”
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It was a sight, one that Dez paused at. The entire territory was surrounded by a massive stone-and-metal fence, barbed wire topped it, and the hum it emitted made it clear it was electrified. Despite the fact that it towered over him, the building surrounding it still peaked over. It was a massive line of conjoined buildings, with roof peaks offering varied styles and changes in level between them. The center of it was a massive white clock tower, clicking away audibly for every second. It was an impressive sight, one Dez may have counted himself lucky to see if not for the vibe of it all. Vines and moss grew and crept all over the walls, windows, and roofs of the massive building. The paint and glass of the windows were cracked, the years being unkind to them all. But there was something else, something indescribable.
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For some reason, the very sight of it filled him with crushing dread. It was as if the building itself was threatening him, promising him the worst if he dared enter. It was strange, Dez normally didn’t scare easily. But everything within him was certain he wanted nothing to do with this place. As if the vibe wasn’t enough, his sense had reached a new record. His entire body throbbed so violently that it made his teeth chatter, his hands shake, and his eyes shift back and forth violently.
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“I knew you’d be a tad bit interesting,” George said with a chuckle in response to his fear. Even now, when being cruel, the man felt inauthentic. Nothing he said or pretended to feel was real. “You can feel it, can you?”
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“What the hell does that mean?”
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“You’ll see. Drag him along now.” George ordered as the three armed guards began to take him again. The three of them approached a massive gate, guarded by four armed men in front, several more inside the gatehouse, and even more along the top. They all shifted their weapons towards them as they approached. But George held up his stupid nametag, and they were allowed through. It swung open with such smoothness that it was clearly machine-run despite its looks. They marched through the overgrown path and toward the massive entrance, silently save for George whistling a tune. “This here is the Tri-County Lunatic Asylum. Long ago, idiots sent other idiots to be treated by even greater idiots. The horrors it caused were novel but unnecessary, and to this day, they give rise to claims of hauntings. However, none of that matters, for all you need to worry about is stepping inside.”
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Dez wanted nothing more in that moment than to run. But where would he go, how would he escape, and what would he do afterward? He had nowhere to go, and as he faced his supposed new home, he was certain even then that life here may not be better. Hector likely would be brought here as well as the others, though. And as dire as it all seemed, he had no choice; if they intended to kill them, why not let them be executed? No, they needed them alive, and therefore they had a chance. So he ignored his instinct as they approached the doors, an impossibly tall man hunched so low he seemed to form a “U,” waiting for them. His hair was thin, white, and a tangled mess. So long as it rested on the ground behind him in a bundle. He wore a suit that was likely pristine a long time ago but was now torn, stained, and covered in filth. His eyes, nails, and teeth were all stained yellow.
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“Sir George, is this the scum I was told of?” The man asked, his voice was quiet and weak, it sounded as though he struggled with every word. The man certainly did tremble with each of them.
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“So it is. I assume I can leave him in your capable hands?” George replied.
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“Of course, sir.”
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“Make sure to kill him if he acts up!” George said sweetly before marching off. Dez growled hatefully at the man, but suddenly his head was forced to look into the ugly face of the new man before him.
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“My name is Olaf Athens.” Olaf snarled at him. “My family has been the caretakers of this place for a long time now. Preparing for you and the others. It’s almost enough to make me excited to see you.”
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“Wish it was enough to make you excited to brush your teeth,” Dez complained before crying out in pain as Olaf gripped his head tight enough to cause a massive amount of pain.
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“Silence scum. I hate criminals like you… You're the last to arrive. Time for orientation, as it were.” Olaf explained. Dez noted that the guards were no longer holding him, yet he couldn’t budge. Was Olaf that strong? The answer was obvious as he was dragged forward by his face by the man Dez cursed Olaf as best he could the entire way.
