@Skinner35@Atroposer

The guard walked over to Kim when he was finished with Arin. "Mmm," he intoned flatly. "You're the lucky one huh? Boss doesn't want anyone touching you. Says you're for him and him alone." The masked guard glanced back at Arin, and then Kim. "Told my guards to give you blankets too. Didn't say they had to be good ones." He chuckled lightly and walked over to the opposite wall. "You're gonna go the way I came. Quietly. And you're going to come to a yellow door on the right hand side. Open the door and enter. Wait for instructions. And I can't stress this enough: do it quietly. No talking."

The man who seemed to be in charge of the guards turned and walked to their right, away from the direction they were ordered to walk. After his heavy footfalls faded into silence a few seconds later, there was no noise.

That comment made her skin crawl. Gradually, the situation set in more and more and soon she was shaking again. Her legs felt more like lead, but she carefully complied. She moved almost silently to a worrisome degree. She stood somewhat confidently once she was in the room, not sure what to expect. She had once again crossed her arms.

She observed the area around her as best she could, cataloging everything she saw and heard. She would need this information if she was to escape.

The way that he talked to her made in extremely uncomfortable. But he could do nothing. So he stood and awaited instruction, hoping that she could formulate a good plan and wouldn't leave him behind.

The Room with the Yellow Door @Skinner35@Atroposer

After they entered the room, the door swung shut, seemingly on its own accord, and locked behind them. The room was about the size of a moderate-sized dining room, complete with a large round oak table in the center. Unlike their cells, the room was made of concrete. On the other side of the room, opposite the yellow door, was a raised chamber with a curtain. The half-working chandelier that dangled gently above lightened the area, and the silhouettes of three figures could be seen lying on a bed on the other side of the nearly-transparent curtain.

A seductive Irish voice spoke from behind the curtain: "Me name's Daren. I'm one o' the generals in the Sons o' Winter." The silhouette stood up and moved toward the curtain, toward the two prisoners. "Greetings, me dears."

As he stepped around the curtain, Daren was wearing nothing but a crimson cloak that did very little, if anything at all, to hide his unmentionables. Beside his toned, scarred body, his face was painted in dried red paint, or blood, and a scar also crossed his otherwise handsome face.

"Please...sit," he suggested, gesturing to the empty table and the six chairs surrounding it

He entered the room, curious about what was going to happen, but he sat. Darren's choice of clothing made Arin extremely uncomfortable. Him being uncomfortable basically became his constant state. He looked at his fellow prisoner, hoping that nothing too insane was about to happen.

Kim schooled her expression, careful not to give anything away. She had an inkling of an idea of what type of escape she could make. She blinked and suddenly all previous hatred melted from her face and she appeared more frightened than anything. She hesitantly peaked at her fellow captive and looked him over. It seems he was just as uncomfortable as she was. Perhaps he could help serve her purpose after all.

With a bit of a grimace, she noted the man's accent and odd choice of clothing(or lack thereof). She averted her black eyes, instead focussing on a spot on the wall just behind his head. Kim looked at one of the chairs before sitting down quietly and looking up through her lashes, now that she knew the game she had to play; submissive and obedient. It went against her nature, but it was a role she had played to get what she wanted dozens of times before.

@Atroposer@Skinner35

The Irish general sat down on the other side of the two captives, who sat next to each other, their backs to the door. "Escape," he said with a twitching grin. "Yes, that be a natural hope, aye? Let me paint a picture for ye."

Daren suddenly leaped out of his chair and onto the wooden table, his hands in the air. He spun around, making his robe blossom around him.

With a laugh, he said, "Ye're in the middle of the arctic!" He knelt before Arin and smirked. "Can't ye tell by how cold it is?" In another fit of laughter, he concealed himself with his cloak and leaped off the table. "Who paid for this, ye wonder? A powerful American politician and his British ex-wife! They call him the Purifier because he purifies our souls...of good and evil!" His white-knuckled hands gripped the back of his chair as he leaned forward, breathing hard and staring back and forth at each of them with a devilish grin. "So...play the game. Pretend to give us what we want until ye think ye can escape, but where would ye go? Ye'd freeze to death before ye got twenty feet! And even if ya didn't, ye'd starve or thirst to death, yeah? Yeah!"

His laughter echoed in the room as he spun around and then sat down in his chair. He looked back and forth between the two. "But it's no fun if ya don't play along. So go on, ask me something." He giggled maniacally and started playing with a knife that he'd somehow managed to produce, perhaps from the chair or his cloak.

He found out just how crazy this general was and decided that since he probably wouldn't survive anyways, he would at least have some fun. "Okay, I have a question." Arin said, leaning forward in his chair. "Of all of the things that you could've chosen to wear, why just a robe? Your little friend looks a little cold." He said, with absolutely no fear. "Question two, why are you here? Shouldn't they have someone with a little more... Let's say American." At this point, he was, at least, buying time for his fellow captive to formulate a plan.

Kim was let down to say the least. The problem with maniacs is that they were unpredictable and hard to reason with. Still, she managed to look at least somewhat innocent. Then again, if she wasn't chosen on random she was likely followed so they probably knew who they were dealing with. It seemed best to assume they knew who they were dealing with. She averted her gaze once again, distastefully looking at Arin. Was he trying to get himself killed?

"Can't you just send for my ransom?" Kim asked.

"Oh this is so exciting!" Daren said, leaning across the table and toying with his blade. "The answer to your questions is...well, the head bird's British so...ya know, some British are in the Sons of Winter as well. If ya live long enough, ye may figure out my exact purpose, and why they call me the general."

Standing up again, Daren leaned over the table, looking Kim up and down as he replied to her question. "Ransom? Oh, like I said before, we have plenty of money, Kimmy. No need for that."

Once again, he turned to Arin. "Oh, and the crazy bloody face and open robe...is to distract ye from the two guards that just walked in behind ye with syringes."

It was human nature to at the very least glance out the corner of one's eye, even if they didn't completely turn around. As soon as Arin's eyes shifted from Daren, he drove the knife deep into his shoulder, and twisted, and then yanked it out and bounced back to the other side of the table.

Daren laughed maniacally, licking the blood from the blade. There was nobody behind them.

As the knife destroyed his shoulder, he let out a scream of absolute pain. "Son of a Bi-" He stopped himself and looked at the general as blood poured from his arm. "Well, someone's defensive." He said through gritted teeth. "Does my blood at least taste decent?"

He was deranged. There was no doubt about it. Kim felt remarkably calm, regardless. She didn't necessarily comprehend how to react in certain situations. Kim watched him stab Arin and felt no empathetic pang. He had brought it on himself. Still, her shoulders tended in preparation to fee the bite of a needle.

@Atroposer@Skinner35

Daren glanced back and forth between them, his mask of insanity momentarily replaced by cautious watchfulness and emotional insight. He nodded and slowly placed the knife on the table.

"Let's eat," he said.

Daren went over to a bookcase and pulled a book, opening the secret door. Entering for but a couple of seconds, the apparently psychotic Irishman rolled out a cart of uncooked, bloody meat. He stopped the cart on his side of the table and picked up a tray of flesh. He dropped it on the table. Humming to himself, Daren then picked up a goblet of red fluid. He placed it on the table in front of Arin. He placed a similar, albeit lighter color red, goblet of drink in front of Kim.

Then he picked up a couple of plates and placed them on the table, still humming some classical tune to himself.

He watched how Darren totally changed personality, was he seriously insane? Arin chose to not test just how insane this man is, so he just sat there, with blood pouring out of his shoulder, he began to feel a little lightheaded.

He watched how Darren totally changed personality, was he seriously insane? Arin chose to not test just how insane this man is, so he just sat there, with blood pouring out of his shoulder, he began to feel a little lightheaded.

Kim glared at Arin as if it were his fault he had been stabbed. She grimaced at his wound then looked hesitantly at the Irishman. She didn't want Arin to die of blood loss, not when she quite possibly needed him for escape. Kim reached over and clamped a surprisingly strong hand over the bleeding wound.

"Eat?" She echoed incredulously, looking horrified at the pile of meat. She then looked at their drinks. Her stomach turned a bit as she noticed the differences. "Is that blood?"

"His is blood, aye," said Daren. "It's a bit...coagulated, I know... Yours is juice, don't worry." He plopped something that looked like freshly mutilated pig flesh onto their plates. "Go on then!"

Daren groaned as he glanced at her hand clasping his shoulder. He turned and went behind the veil, returning with a towel. He tossed it to them. "Fine, bind him up with that. Sheesh."

"Well then." He said as he took the towel and covered his wound and tied it. "Is there anywhere that I can clean the wound?" He said, looking at Darren. "Preferably away from cannibals."

"Well then." He said as he took the towel and covered his wound and tied it. "Is there anywhere that I can clean the wound?" He said, looking at Darren. "Preferably away from cannibals."

Kim removed her bloody hand, unfazed by the sight. She wiped it on her thigh so that she wouldn't leave red hand prints everywhere. She reached over and poked hard into the towel, trying to communicate that he shouldn't provoke him. She hesitantly glanced at the deranged man, a bit of a softer gaze, edges rounded by fear. Then she looked at the juice suspiciously, trying to determine the plausibility that it was poisoned.

Even if it was, her helplessness in the situation was clear, and they could kill her at any moment, poison, blade, or any other thing the madman could think of. She picked up the drink, staring at it before hesitantly bringing it to her lips, but smelling it. She'd been poisoned plenty of times before. What's one more hit to her liver?