@Atroposer@Skinner35
"Nope," said Daren, clearly becoming frustrated. But not by Arin's petulance; that was almost amusing. "Okay, so maybe you haven't realized, but you're prisoners. Captured. Kidnapped. We aren't exactly in the medical business here. In fact, our one medical professional is off getting drunk somewhere. Stupid German. I mean, I love alcohol as much as the next bloke, but come on. We got company. Anyway..."

Daren walked around the table toward them. He sat on the table, in the very narrow spot between them. The knife was on the table, a couple feet behind him. Had he forgotten about it or was it intentional? It was a pretty small weapon, with only a 3-inch blade. It was entirely possible, he simply missed it, as the small handle and old, rust-brown blade blended in well with the oak table.

"Oh yeah," said Daren, thumbing over his shoulder at the meat. "That's the last two recruits who decided they were too good for us." He peered down at Arin. "You're already halfway there. So remember that next time ye wanna run yer mouth, aye?" He then turned to Kim as she hesitantly drank the juice, discovering it was in fact, just cranberry juice. "See? No poison or blood or anything. Now...we can discuss yer places here."

Daren interlocked his fingers together and cracked his knuckles, staring at the door behind them.

"It would be nice to hear it. Preferably before I pass out." He said with a small chuckle. He was starting to fade out, but he could hold out for a little longer, he clamped his wound a little tighter to stop the blood loss.

Kim stared openely at Daren when he was looking at Arin, but she quickly cast her gaze away when she feared he would look at her. Her stomach turned, but she ate. She had no moral qualm with it, but she didn't like the taste, so she was hesitant between bites, despite not batting an eye lash.

@Skinner35@Atroposer
Daren watched Kim eat, a morbid interest in his green eyes. He stood up slowly, patting Arin on the back, as he sauntered back around to the other side of the table.

"The Sons o' Winter wanna use yer strengths and skills," Daren said as he gestured to them, "in our takeover of small, but important locations and organizations around the world. A couple police precincts here, a few local banks there. Sure, the Purifier's got monies, but he wants more power. The problem with past world-conquerors was they were so damn obvious. Genghis Khan. Alexander the Great. Hitler. Stalin. Clinton. They just amassed armies and invaded countries, never realizing that they were small potatoes compared to those who had long-since taken over the banking institutions and governments of the world through stealth. Well, now it's the Purifier's turn. But first...a little indoctrination. See, human flesh doesn't need any additives or mind-altering chemicals. Human DNA is mind-altering if the right amount is consumed; ever hear of those stories about cannibals going insane? And if we feed ye nothin' else, ye'll have no choice but to eat it. I don't think either one o' ya are selfless enough to starve to death for yer principles, if ye have any."

"So, you want us to be soldiers for your boss?" He said, looking at Darren. At this point, he would do it. He hated the life that he had, where nothing would ever happen. He needed excitement and adventure, besides, if he said no to this, he may die anyways. "Why not. I'm in."

"My skills aren't suited to the soldier life," Kim's tone was even, if not business-like. "Nor are they suited to becoming a sister wife." She said almost pointedly. Her eyes fell to the meat. If escape was impossible, then she didn't care much about her sanity. Though, according to most of her psychologists, corporate or otherwise, that she had over the years, she was already clinically insane in some manner. Not that she ever let that be discovered by anybody but them. Kim glanced to the blade, but she knew she wasn't fast enough or strong enough to overpower Daren, if his previous display was any indication of physical prowess. Despite having a wiry sort of strength, her abilities were more mental strength and cleverness.

@Atroposer@Skinner35

"No," admitted Daren to Kim, "you'd be one of the advisers for the council. Now, eat up an' sod off back to yer cells. I have..." He paused to gesture whimsically to the feminine figures awaiting him behind his curtain, "matters to attend to."

He headed back toward the bedchamber.

Arin sat there. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, then looked back, and walked back into his cell. He was in pain and needed to rest. His wound probably wouldn't be tended to for a little while, but he'll live. He sat in the corner of his cell.

Kim then kept her mouth shut. She waited for Arin to lead, then followed behind him. It was less out of curtesy, more about having a human shield. She looked at his shoulder.

"Don't bleed out." She instructed him as if that would somehow help him. She went back into her cel and stared at the disgusting blanket before putting it out in the corner and laying on the floor.

Advisor.

That was no different than what she already did.

After an hour, a man in a white lab coat and doctor's mask entered Arin's cell. He held a syringe. When he spoke, his voice was deep, with the hint of a New England accent. "I'm going to put you to sleep and stitch up your arm."

Arin would wake up several hours later, once again alone in his cell. However, that would be the extent of the excitement for two days. Then, once both of the prisoners were asleep, someone had entered their cells and left for them clean clothes. Arin had faded, worn blue jeans and an old white T-shirt. Kim was gifted with an old off-white sundress with red tear drops and clean underwear.

Every day their buckets were emptied or exchanged for clean ones, always when they were asleep. Food and drink was always left for them, once a day, also when they slept. Sometimes it was that grotesque, badly scented "ham" and mysterious crimson fluid, other times it was obviously just water and bread or rice. Only about half the time was the red fluid actually human blood.

Two weeks went by, and nothing very interesting happened. Occasionally one of the masked guards would enter, glare at them or issue some threat, and then leave; but otherwise, they saw nobody.

Once though, the Carolinian guard had carelessly mentioned to Kim that they were being watched, gesturing to the door. Upon further inspection, she might find a tiny, barely visible hole on the door at about eye level.

At the end of two weeks, the temperature of the rooms had gradually decreased substantially, until both prisoners were shivering.

Over the two weeks, he had gotten used to the clothes, food, and oddly enough, the blood. He did what he had to to not pass out and re-injure his shoulder. So he went through it, sometimes thinking about how Kim was doing in her cell. The occasional threat turned from scary, to almost humorous. He grew to be able to sleep on the cold floors. Now he was waiting to either be executed or recruited. Whichever would happen first was a variable.

Kim cared about what she ate in the sense that it irked her that she began to notice a small amount of pudge on her otherwise meticulously taken care of body. She didn't bat an eyelash at the blood. The threats bothered her only on a level in which her vanity and pride were injured. Being watched, however, caused her stomach to turn. She grew paranoid, the the only physical sign of such was her glancing at the camera, especially before she slept.

At the end of two weeks, a short guard of barely over 5-foot unlocked and entered Arin's cell. He wore all black, and a terrifying Asian Immortal mask. He entered, closed the door behind him, and stood in front of the door staring at the prisoner.

When he spoke, his voice held an otherworldly baritone. "Stand!"

As the short man with the mask walked in, he wondered about what was happening. When the demonic shout came, he stood in military style attention. He knew that this probably wasn't a joke.

"You will be taken to a classroom," the guard growled, "to be educated."

The phantasmic man escorted Arin from the cell, down the hall and passed the locked yellow door of the Irish general, and walked for another couple of minutes until they came to a greenish door on the same wall of the curved hallway. The guard opened the door and gestured with manufactured grandiosity for the man to enter.

Inside was another man, frightened and nervous, sitting at one of the many student's desks. At the front of the room was, as one might expect, a wall-sized dry-erase board.

Once Arin was inside, the guard shut and locked the door.

Kim's door unlocked and opened, and the guard from Carolina entered. He left the door ajar again, anxiously glancing out. He then removed his mask to reveal a grotesquely scorched face that had perhaps once been handsome. Aside from his bright blue eyes, his deformed face was unrecognizable.

"My name is Isaac. Do you want to escape?"

Kim cocked her head up at him from where she was seated at the back of her cell. Her mind had been tearing itself apart but she kept up a look of casual indifference. "No. Not at this point." She lied, looking over his features. She made a mental note of his name, but soon her mind was going off on a tangent.

He did as intructed and entered the 'classroom.' He then sat at a desk on the opposite side of the room from the obviously nervous man and waited. He looked around the room for a possible weapon of way of escape.

The man who called himself Isaac looked confused, but nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. "As you wish." He turned and glanced up and down the corridor before stepping outside in the dark.

Meanwhile, Zeb was glad for Arin's company. Zeb was a thin black man with short dreads and accumulated facial hair. His attire consisted of a straight-jacket, and he'd looked as though he hadn't slept for days.

"H-hey," he stammered. "I-I'm Zeb. Wh-What's your name?"

Kim stood up finally, watching him cautiously. She stepped after him. "Why?" She asked curiously. "Is this some sort of test? That's pretty fucked up." She hissed. Grabbing the door tightly in her hand. She felt weak, and this seemed almost like someone she could have authority over, if only in confidence.

"Arin." That's all that he said while sitting there. He didn't need to be roped up with anyone else. At this point, he was trying to find a way to either escape, or become one of that Irish bastards soldiers, whichever would happen first is variable.