Lonesome Prison Blues.

[Estilo]

Note: This thread takes place before the timeskip, but after Atlas Burabiya's reinduction as Raikage. This thread is also private.

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-- Enter.

"Through here, Lord Raikage." The CROW operative spoke, his cloaked figure guiding me through the cold stone tunnels beneath the old tower. It reeked of moss and wet dog down here. The empty cells we passed brimmed with raw darkness. Rats scurried to and fro at the corners of the hallways and rooms. Each door we passed, crafted with wood, but reinforced with metal, issued an awful squeal. Within a few minutes time, however, we'd reach the central chamber. A circular room, just about thirty meters in diameter, with two exits on its northern and southern sides.

This central chamber-- well, dungeon, really-- had a limited, but reinforced, amount of cells. Each of these cells, at one point or another, contained one of Kumogakure no Sato's worst criminals. Most of them had been relocated, however, after I'd been reinstated as Raikage. And only one remained. He was the sole reason why this place was still being watched over by ANBU agents, and why I'd come here.

My CROW operative stopped before one of the large jail cells, his masked countenance turning towards me. "The prisoner is here, sir." He'd inform, nodding towards the cell, his expression concealed beneath a sharp visor of black, rimmed with gold trim. "I advise that you keep your distance."

"Nonsense!" I'd laugh, striding towards the jail cell. The ends of my midnight black cloak fluttered as I approached it, my clear green gaze bursting with cheer. "Oi!" I'd bellow, grabbing two of the steel bars firmly with my gloved hands. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to perceive the figure within the darkness, a vague smile crossing my half-masked face. "For a guy a few minutes away from the electric chair, you're pretty adamant about the entire thing, ain't ya?" My sharp gaze would continue to focus into the darkness of the cell, waiting for an answer from the lonesome prisoner.

[Ronno]

Sitting in the dank chamber was something I had become accustomed too. My mind has become rattled. I am not the same person I once was. I know this. I know this, yet I wish I didn’t. I wish I still had the boyish smile that is now replaced with my older, more war torn visage. My smile is no more. Feeling the sun’s warm rays was a dream of mine long ago. A dream I have abandoned long since. Today was just another day, one day more day of my sentence; though, whenever that ends, no one knows. The day started at six am when the ANBU guards would wake me up with a bucket of chilled water. Today’s water was especially cold – the colder the water usually tended toward them not harassing me or trying to lay hands on me.

Just another drab Tuesday morning.

The guards think they are crafty, hiding behind their masks. Porcelain white masks walked these halls day in and day out. Some wore cloaks to hide their form. I know who they are. Some wore the basic, standard issued armor that showed off their young figures. I know them too. I was there when they were inducted into the organization. I remember their names, lineage, siblings and last known whereabouts. I served with most of their parents.

After the ‘cold shower,’ the guards would leave me to my thoughts just long enough to gaze at the calender to my wall across the hall from my cell. This is how I kept track of the dates. I kept my mind busy. I kept up with current events by occasionally overhearing the more novice – ill prepared jailors who choose to talk about things of importance in front of prisoners.

Footsteps unlike the others pronged through the corridors of my prison. Loud harsh sounds eclipsed every other. I grabbed at my ears, folding them over with my fingertips. I glanced at my hands, the first time I had noticed my hands in a long while.

His voice was strange, jovial and nonchalant. Unheard for quite some time. I knew who it was immediately.

Just another drab Tuesday morning.

He thrust himself on the bars of my cell door. Blocking out what little light crept through into my room. Darkness, I was used to it so, my eyes had no problem adjusting to the absence of light. I could see the silhouette of a once close friend. Light caught his red mane. “We have never been the type to plea for our lives, Atlas. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft.” My voice showed no insinuation of a question. Perhaps, I have lost the ability to appear curious.

[Estilo]

A shark-like smile spread across my face at the sound of his response. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?" I replied, my baritone voice reverberating off the stone walls. Pausing for a beat, the silence between us underlined by the echoed sound of dripping from afar, I'd then release the steel bars from my grasp. Backing away from the cell, I'd sharply pivot around, facing the masked operatives that occupied the room with us. "ANBU, let this man go!" I'd demand lightheartedly, raising my arms to both sides of me.

The ANBU, although clearly reluctant at first, eventually kicked into action, and heeded the order. As they approached the cell door in unison, one of them withdrawing a ring of keys, the CROW operative I'd brought would approach me hastily. "Sir, are you certain that's a good idea? This man was charged with the murder of five council members!" He'd whisper, his voice tinged with worry. He'd cast a glance over his shoulder, at the dark jail cell in which the last prisoner in this dungeon remained.

I smirked, patting my fellow operative on the shoulder, as we slowly spun around to face the cell. "Have a little faith." I answered, my one-eyed gaze watching as the ANBU opened the cell's door, yet another sharp squeal emitted from its metal hinges. "I'm actually quite certain this man is innocent!" I remarked, waiting for the "prisoner" to emerge. I'd then place my gloved hands on my hips, standing proudly before the jail cell. "Mabaye! Tell these fine gentleman exactly how innocent you are! Go on!"

Mabaye. I hadn't seen the bastard since before I'd left-- before I'd disappeared. And it wasn't necessarily difficult to guess how he has been since then. 

[Ronno]

He hadn’t changed, not in the least bit. His face was a mystery to me, how much had he changed. Had he changed as much as I have? I forced myself from the uncomfortable position I was in on the ground to an upright position with my back still to the cold stone wall. I was silent – just as I had been all these years, but outside my cell all was a buzz. Let me go? Is this true? Has Atlas returned after all these years to set me free from my prison? I moved quickly to bring myself to my feet. My hands shackled - my ankles in the same circumstance. It was a difficult maneuver but I did so recklessly.

I stood up as straight as possible. My blonde and black hair was greasy and still dripped with water. As I stood the water flung everywhere. My hair clung to my face and at the side of my mouth. I quickly swiped at it. I may be a lonely prisoner for now, but I will be having company soon in the torch light. Sound reverberated in my cell as I had been clanking my shackles against the walls. Nearby ANBU operatives were getting restless. It seems they haven’t forgotten the incident a few years back when I tried to quit my sentence.

—semi flashback

I ran. My feet couldn’t move fast enough. I glanced backwards at the three men chasing after me. I couldn’t hear a thing. I wiped at my right ear with my elbow, leading me to first notice my head was gushing blood. That made sense why I couldn’t hear. I ran till I hit a ‘T’ crossing where one corridor met perpendicularly to another. I looked quickly to my left and saw two more agents, one was a female. I made the decision to make a break for it to my right.

I listen in on the men surrounding Atlas question his judgment. Reminds of me of long ago when we were all children. Of course he has learned to control and even his temper. As a child he truly was a raging fireball. Killing five council members. I knew why I was imprisoned and I dwelled on it every day, but to hear the jailor telling the Raikage was a blow to the ego.

I‘d walk out towards the door and waited half a second to be let outside. The creak of the metal hinges wasn’t a note I dreaded – It was like a sweat melodic sound that would have brought a tear to a women at the opera. I ducked my head and clenched my eyes. I nearly missed the low barring beams that supported the Infrastructure of the low hanging sealing. My large imposing figure might startle a weaker man.

“I am innocent.”

The only words I could muster.

“I am innocent.”

[Estilo]

Theme: "Tusk" - Fleetwood Mac.

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I heard the dripping as he stood, drops of filthy water cascading down from the tips of his shaggy hair, the acoustic sound of his heavy steps nearing as the seconds wore on. And I remained standing, hands placed coolly on my sides, that predator grin spreading as his visage slowly eased its way into the fire's light. I was no more than three meters away from the cell's now opened door, an ANBU guard standing to each side of me. But, besides their reluctance to leave my side in the presence of this "criminal", I showed no sign of caution or apprehension.

"Innocent." I reiterated brightly.

 
With his imposing figure now out of the wet darkness beyond, for all the ANBU to behold, my old friend stood before us all. At nearly seven feet tall, even I was forced to edge my one-eyed gaze upwards a little. Dressed in rags, and lacking any other ideal hygienic quality, it was safe to say that he appeared real... savage-like. And there was no doubt in my mind that, despite the chains around his wrists and ankles, a few of the professionals here were quivering in their boots. After all, who'd want to tussle with a man of his stature?

"Well," I started. "You look awful."

That jovial grin on my face said it all. I wasn't joking, of course. He looked like shit. At least, compared to the image of him I had in my mind. A younger (and cleaner) image of a comrade I'd fought with during the First World War. But I still tried to make light of the situation. It was who I was, and what I did. After all the years we'd known each other, Mabaye couldn't blame me for that, could he? Narrowing my eyes into a whimsical glare, I'd speak once more, my tone just as suave and easy to the ears as it had been long ago.

"You ready to put this place behind you?"

There was a lot to explain, a lot to tell him. But I needed to know whether he was ready to put this entire unfortunate circumstance in his past-- and leave it there. I could understand if he held a grudge against Kumogakure no Sato, or the people who had framed him, or the council itself. Hell, if they'd imprisoned me wrongfully for years, I probably wouldn't mind getting some payback, too. But if I was going to take him into the "new regime", to stand side by side with him once more, I needed to know that he wasn't going to act on any of these revenge-fueled urges.

He was better than that. I was sure he was.