Number 10
Natsukawa Avaron
Captured. Chained. Consigned to oblivion.
She was never transported to the deepest, darkest parts of the Obsidian. It was likely that they thought that given enough time they could extract something from her -- a name, a place, a vocation, perhaps a calling. With time and enough pain, yes, one could say and another could learn a great many things. And what did she say when she was in enough pain? When she felt this dire trepidation welling up inside of her? She knew they could and that they would hurt her, but they would be careless fools to kill her. So here she lay, chained in her own filth waiting for the arrival of an oppertunity. You see, she had a curios ability, not unlike a Chimera in that it was an amalgamation of powers but she was not made of many but rather a mimic of the legion.
Eventually they would send a sentinel with a power-set she could use, one that perhaps the ANBU did not even know that they had. Today would be that day. This infernal prison was cursed with consumption, the sin of gluttony and the reflection of voracious hunger and an insatiable appetite. She thought that it was a rumor, a story of terror parents told their children to make them stay in their beds. Yes, she knew the story of the Black Shell, the story of the time from before and of the creatures trapped in the below.
She was going down there -- down to them.
It was the change of guard again as it happened so many times before. For the most part, the transition was always the same. A brief verbal account of the nothing she did for the previous twelve hours, a couple of jokes, the latest on the wife and the kids -- she knew most of them by name. And she thought that the man beneath the mask was supposed to remain a mystery. Every once in awhile there would be a zealous new jailer that thought that they might be able to extract something more from her. There was genjutsu, threats of pain and actual acts that resulted in intense pain, sometimes in that order and sometimes not. Those were the good days, the fun ones where she had a chance to escape this mundane existence and a chance to extract something from the boys. She, like them, was here to extract intelligence and the last person one is concerned about is the battered woman chained to a wall.
Today she found herself a new one.
Cocky little son of a bitch wearing a wolf's mask and dark sandy robes pressed his face between the bars. She did not see his expression but she knew it from the low, muffled guffaw that emanated from behind the mask. She could feel his power from five feet away. He was different from the others but from the look of him, he did not even realize. He was a chakra sensitive with a boundless reserve of chakra but he carried a sword and carried himself like a brawler. "Mmmm... you're my kinda man sweet stuff," Avaron claimed as she felt his latent chakra charging ability recharging her stores. Her bare toes curled and she stretched her arms, the chains rattled. With a sudden burst of light and power, the wolf would be shot back from the cell door and the fetters that held her would break. She would find standing arduous but not impossible as chakra fortified her deteriorated muscles. She staggered towards the door, her fingers wrapped around the bars of her cage as she looked out beyond into the barely illuminated halls. The bar would become red hot, the metal would start to melt away before the ANBU would have the chance to raise an alarm or flee to the safety of the cell-blocks beyond before she caught him and assurances were made. "Don't cha be running off on me now my little energizer, we have much to do."
Topic Left
30 Min -- S rank
