I have the wonderful anacoana for giving me a muse to write off of. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how at least the first chapter sells.
This is the equivalent of a prolouge. Please enjoy.
Noise reached the ears of the slaves that huddled in the cramped, steal cages and many cringed. Some laughed silently as they recognized the owner of the screams that raced through the cement basement of the nondescript warehouse. Those who didn't recognize the agonized screams didn't ask questions; they would learn whose screams those were in due time and at that very moment, none of them were in any hurry to learn quite yet. They simply watched the older members to see pity and joy at the ongoing cries. One slave in particular, his dark hair – having grown long due to the lack of barber shops for the illegal slaves – falling into his eyes softly, noted a man he had been trained to see as a Master racing past the cages from outside the warehouse. He also saw the others follow the Master with eyes only. Each slave noted the sudden pause in the screaming.
Shouting erupted from the room the Master had rushed to and every slave tensed at the sound. Masters shouting never meant there was anything good coming towards the slaves. Tone meant everything to the caged slaves because it was the difference between a meal and a harsh beating. However, for some, it was the difference between living to see another day let alone another hour. The slaves didn't hesitate when the Masters came to them with rope and shackles in hand. They moved slowly and carefully while the Masters rushed them through the cage doors and to the transport trucks. Rope and shackles were wrapped over wrists and occasionally ankles of the slaves but none of them seemed to mind as they were ferried into cramped cargo areas that – like the box cars used in World War Two for Hitler's undesirables – had never been meant to hold humans. One could almost imagine how illegal immigrants felt as they paid to be smuggled in by truck like cattle in a cattle run.
The dark haired slave that had seen the Master enter the room before the others was shoved into one of the last trucks, his feet stumbling as he tried desperately to climb with chains bound about his ankles. He, mercifully, wasn't hit as he tumbled upwards to a seat. The last truck was always more spacious than the others due to the first being crammed as tightly as possible with people and maybe even the dismantled cages. There was room for him to sit if he wished and by god did he wish. He had usually been forced to stand in the cages because he couldn't afford to be off guard in those things. He was new, having been taken from his family, and therefore had more things to worry about in the hierarchal stations that were the co-rulers of the slaves' caged domain. He glanced back at the people who had shoved him up to see them speaking to Shank, a leader of the Masters. He listened carefully. He never knew when his ears would save him one day.
"Why now?" one asked. "How could they have found us anyway?"
"Who knows?" another growled. "Just load them up!"
"What about the one in them room?" the first asked, his eyes wide with concern as he looked at Shank. Shank however simply sneered.
"Forget him! He'll die soon enough from the wounds alone!" Shank snarled. "Finnish what you're doing!"
The slave sucked in a breath as the doors closed. Others ignored him as was usual. He wept silently for the boy who had been left by his illegal owners. The boy had befriended him in the only fashion he could have in their situation – as a teacher and a student would become friends – and both of them had fought together to survive in the illegal ring they had been forced into. The man mentally cursed the people who had made a child with so much promise become nothing but a cold blooded fighter. He understood the boy had morals but morals meant nothing when the Masters wanted blood and death. He had seen the boy forced to kill for survival because he was paired up against someone who killed for fun and fun alone.
I'm going to survive, the man promised. I'm going to fucking survive this hell hole.
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