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Animal
 
Rough hands grip my bare shoulders, shoving me to the ground. I wallow in the dirt as my ribcage connects with sturdy combat boots. I am yanked up by my hair once again, feeling warm breath on my face as the man growls something unintelligible into my ear. I blindly grope outward, feeling the rubber of the guard’s gas mask. My wrist is wrenched away, and a kick sends me plummeting back into empty space. As I bounce down a flight of steps, I hear the man bark one last epithet as a heavy bang marks the closing of a door.
 
I rise to my knees in the dust, fumbling with the bandages obscuring my vision. I slowly open my eyes, peering into the void. A trickle of light filters from the stairwell, illuminating the empty cell. There was nothing but rags and straw scattered across the dirt. I lean against a wall, pulling back my long, twisted hair into a grimy ponytail. 
 
Out of the dust, a voice calls out, “What have they sent me this time?”
My eyes widen as I notice a figure wrapped in rags across the chamber. 
“Who are you,” I ask, sitting up into a more defensive position. 
“Your accent is good. But after all this, you lot aren’t going to crack me simply by sending a female face,” the voice answered with a chuckle. 
“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want,” I mutter, “I’m just another animal in this hole.” 
“Sure.”   
“What does it matter to you?” I gaze downward. 
A silence ensues. I curl tighter under the cold, a silent sob growing in my throat. 
“I used to think that I could see the future, you know,” the man on the floor says. 
“Good for you.” 
“But everyday was exactly the same,” the man replied.
“Just shut up.” 
“What did you do to get thrown down here anyways?” he countered. 
“Noticed something that someone else didn’t,” I whisper, glowering down at my hands. “What did you do?”
“I lost a battle. Got captured. Simple.”
 
The man stands up. His clothing was in tatters, far too large for his ragged frame. He stumbles closer, sitting next to me, his back next to the wall. “But they didn’t kill me.”
 
I stare at the emaciated form. Angular knees jab out from skeletal legs and ribs protrude as if planks supporting the ceiling of a cathedral. I can barely make out his shaved head in the darkness-- I could see nothing behind the shadow cast by the bones around his eyes. More than anything else, the patchwork of scars spanning his entire body attracts my attention.
 
“It’s got to be more complicated than that.” I remark softly. 
“The thing is, they thought I knew something. So they keep me alive in hopes of getting information,” he uttered. “It’s funny actually. All my friends are dead, and I’ve been able to live all these months because they think I am more of a target than they were.”
“But do you actually know anything?” I ask. 
"I wouldn't tell them. And I won't tell you. It's the only reason I'm still alive. If I tell them that I know something, they kill me. If I tell them I don't know anything, they kill me." He whispers.
I look at his scars. "You want to live in these conditions?" 
"Anythings better than dying. Anything." 
"But you really don't know anything? You just don't want them to kill you? That's... clever, I guess." I turn my ahead away from the man, realizing I was staring. 
"Survival is a basic instinct. But being able to think through challenges, to put your mind over your body, is what separates us from the animals," the man mutters.
"You think too much. This is why I like Moby Dick-- it's just a book about a man going out to kill a whale." 
"Then go kill your whale," The skeletal shape remarks sardonically. 
"I will." 
 
I stand up, reaching into my filthy tank-top. I point the pistol at the man and pull the trigger twice.
 
He falls backward onto the earthen floor. Blood erupts from his abdomen and his arms spasm outward. The man's throat convulses, blood spurting across his face. The skeletal shape writhes in death. His lips move, forming unintelligible syllables as he chokes on his own blood. I look into his empty eyes, eyes of cold fear, the eyes of an animal. 
 
"You've told me all I need to know. You were right, by the way. My accent is pretty good." 
 
I wink to the guard on the way out. 
 
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More Stories from Masquerade:
Just a Crosshair [Part One]
Edited by r_Masquerade2
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Approving an article of the alt of an ex reporter..? Hmm..

I assume it isn't a major issue. It's a quality article that people would like to read, and isn't against any rules. Even current reporters can technically post in AWC if they would like; I checked.

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I assume it isn't a major issue. It's a quality article that people would like to read, and isn't against any rules. Even current reporters can technically post in AWC if they would like; I checked.

Pretty much settles it then

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I assume it isn't a major issue. It's a quality article that people would like to read, and isn't against any rules. Even current reporters can technically post in AWC if they would like; I checked.

Was a joke =/

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