Alleys of Treachery by Destiny's Avenger

Chapter One

ALLEYS OF TREACHERY

Alone...But in pain...

Imprisoned...But Alive...

Cold scraped his back as he was shoved into the compartment; the chamber's walls gleamed and the icy cement in which it was made of seemed to mock him...It beckoned him, signing him to descend upon them and reduce himself to the mass of whimpering materiel that everyone else was, that even he was down inside. He scoffed inwardly, for he had barely the strength to do it with his outer features, and he had to save that energy for tomorrow where he would have to be the mannequin for those wretched human females who stank of the fake scents that made him lightheaded. The man sighed quietly and allowed himself to be dragged to the ground by fatigue, where he sat in silence and he watched the other male, concealed in black, thrust bowls of chilled gruel towards the other slaves while hissing slurred insults.

At last he turned to the tall man with the demonic features, and gave him a heated glare. "You stupid mutt," he jeered viciously, "I haven't had such a low offer in years...damn animals like you can't even bring in the average rate nowadays. The auction'd be a good place for you, eh? When 'ill you learn, your way of thinking is not appreciated 'round here..."

The demon male dipped his head as his eyes flared red. His claws began moving against his side restlessly; how they ached to spill his blood...but as long as that hopeless collar remained clasped around his neck, there was nothing he could do. Memories flooded his mind and reminded him of the agonising pain that had eaten away at his insides when he had defied the persons above him in the past. He never wanted to feel that ache in his being again. "Yes, Master," he grunted, still keeping his head low. The band around his neck was starting to throb, the first telltale sign of his rebellion. The Master narrowed his eyes at the collar and brought his boot to the man's side, delivering a solid strike.

"Good," he mumbled, turning to leave. "If yer do better tomorrow, ya might get a meal, but I ain't promising nothin'." The grey gate creaked and the metallic sound of the lock being secured rang throughout the chamber.

The demon hardened his eyes and did his best to ignore the dull pain in his vacant stomach that craved food, even if that tasteless gruel was it. It was then he noticed the prying eyes of the other slaves examining him closely as they consumed their meal slowly. Let them eat those horrid provisions, he thought in vain, I have no need for it. I will not demoted to such appalling fares. Yet his appetite was disagreeing greatly. A small hand reached out to him with a goblet of unfinished gruel, and the demon instantly turned his head to the being that dared descend pity on him. His thinned eyes softened very slightly as the sight of the little girl he had often glanced at; the one who was not known speak, and had very little chance of ever being sold. Some where in the black hole that was his heart, he sympathised with her, and wondered what cruel individual would accept her. But the small girl seemed unaware of the matter, and as he pushed the bowl back to her in refusal, he could see the streak of innocence that always remained in her eyes.

Stupid, ignorant girl, he ranted inside his head as she turned back to swallowing the remains of her meal, You don't know what awaits us outside those gates, do you? You still have hope that it will change. Idiot child. Life is always going to be as it is for us. Nothing will change. There is no hope for slaves.