Can't Escape Your Nature free porn video

He sat back and folded his arms across his muscular chest, and was acutely aware of the ‘popular’ group of boys talking and laughing in hushed voices, occasionally looking back at him with disdain and unsuppressed malice. He was also very aware of the gaggle of girls at the other side of the classroom nattering restlessly or putting on makeup. He took in all the events around him with a quick glance and settled back again. The unwanted attention he received irritated him. He didn’t want it, and he couldn’t help the way he looked, walked and talked. It was who he was.
The movement of a guy caught Dante’s eye immediately. His bottomless black eyes flicked up from his desk in an instant and met his eyes as he hulked across the classroom. He didn’t seem bothered though. He had the self assurance and presence of a bully, and Dante had taken that in the first day they met. Sid was up to something today, he could tell, and he was ready. As far as he knew, Dante was the oldest in the class at 18 years and six months old, but that by no means meant he was the biggest. Sid was, he’d heard, pretty new to Danauby School too. No wonder he was already so ‘popular’ after seeing the way he threw his weight around. His weight, however, was not necessarily muscle as Dante’s was. The mood in the room switched as quickly as everyone’s mind took in that Sid had made a move, and anticipation hung as heavily as musk in the air. The silence was deafening. Dante kept a straight face as he approached, openly taking in his gross teeth in a skewed, overshot jaw and the considerable absence of his ginger hair.
“Get up, Hatake.” Sid said huskily.
“Sit down, Sid.” Dante replied disdainfully, unfussed. He’d confronted him before and failed to do anything remotely interesting. Dante was sick of his games. Sid stepped in close and planted his huge hands on Dante’s desk, leaning in and grinning uncouthly in his face.
Dante grimaced, “Did I ever mention how vile your breath smells?” he said flatly, never breaking eye contact.
Something akin to a death stare passed over Sid’s face. Dante allowed himself a little quirk of his lips. Cheeks turned from pasty pale to red to purple in a matter of seconds and then he shoved the desk sideways suddenly, causing the girls to scatter with a shriek. “You’re going to pay for that, mate! No-one talks to me like that and gets away with it.” He roared. Other classes gathered at the doorway, hooting and cheering like a pack of wild animals. They were all cheering for Sid, who, fuelled on by the support jumped into the gap he’d created and drew back his huge fist with slow and giant-like movements for a punch. Dante stood suddenly, his chair sliding back with a hiss, and vaulted the chair to his right easily. Sid’s punch missed by light-years. How many times have I moved schools because of these damnable affairs? Last year of school. I’m not moving again. Dante thought, the constant flame of anger in his heart beginning to roar again. Sid’s face dropped at Dante’s liquid dodge. He smiled. If Sid could have got any angrier at that point, he would have exploded. He tried, and failed miserably to swallow the rage inside him. He shoved the desk fully at Dante, who to his surprise leaped up onto the desk like a cat, hampering his movement. His jaw dropped with shock and Dante took the chance to kick him in the mouth. Hard. Blood fountained from his broken nose and shattered teeth. He rocked backwards, then forwards as if time had slowed, then pitched over sideways, taking a couple of chairs with him. The silence was back again. Everyone was staring at him with mouths agape. Two girls ran from the room, obviously to find a teacher of some description and the sound of their pounding footsteps receded until silence descended again. Dante was panting as rage crept up from the depths and he struggled to hold it in. Beating a pathetic bully like Sid did nothing what-so-ever to make him feel better. “Friends” went to check on Sid, giving Dante a wide berth as if he were a wild animal, which he supposed was how the others saw him.
Being the centre of attention like that was suffocating for Dante, he felt the need to be out in the clean air, to be able to move in sync with the melody of the blood in his veins, and that’s what he did.
“Move out of my way.” He said dangerously, and a path cleared between him and the door. He leaped from table-top to table-top like he would’ve done in the training grounds of the Guild, and flew down the fire escape onto the field. He stopped. The stillness of outdoors was beautiful. He stopped and allowed his fury subside and his blood to flow in harmony with the earth. Taking a breath of the chill air he glided to the far end of the field. Two four-inch kunai throwing knives were in his hands before he knew it, spinning in a dizzying sequence from finger to finger that only he could master, lost in thought. Would there be any loss if I left? He thought dismally, I live alone. No-one would notice. Why don’t I just end it now. A decision was made, then. The knives stopped their furious whirling and came to a chilly halt. Jugular or wrist? He knew it well. Both would be painless, effortless. An end to the pain. He began spinning the knives again.
A shout brought Dante back from the brink. He stopped spinning his knives and jammed them into the holsters hidden by his blazer before his headmaster would see as he stormed across the field towards him. “Dante Hatake! Come here right now!” Dante stopped and allowed him to catch up, puffing from his little jog.
“Sir?” He responded.
“Is it true what Leiaa said you did to Sid? You do understand that physical violence is strictly forbidden?”
“Yes, sir. But I did it in self-defence- Sid acted first.”
“That’s not what I heard from every witness I asked,” he continued to bluster.
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Dante replied sedately, suppressing his irritation.
“Well if you would care to--” Headmaster Dukes was cut off as the shrill wail of the fire alarm knifed through the silence. Dante sighed, the tiniest external sign of his irritation. “If you would care to follow me to the tennis courts...” he said as if expecting it, and started waddling to the fire-assembly point on the tennis courts. Already Year 7 students were gathering in their PE kits, jiggling about in the cold. “Just go and stand with your form. Don’t attract any attention,” he ordered Dante and then, strangely smiled sadly. Dante frowned at him and then lined with his form as he had been told. Sid was there, holding a bloody bandage to his nose and standing with the nurse in the line. He looked nervous. Dante was forced to endure standing next to a girl who looked up at him, eyelids battering as if he were a god she’d like to bed. Ignoring her and the boring fire-drill related events taking place around him, Dante studied the field opposite him. Trees and bushes lined the perimeter to separate the outside world from school property. Something moved amongst the shrubbery and caught Dante’s eye. “Hey did you... Never mind,” he said as the girl goggled him again. He searched the horizon again but saw nothing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, be quiet please,” Mr Jukes, who now wore a fluorescent yellow jacket and stood on a step ladder said through a microphone. Silence quickly began to fall. “Due to new health
and safety regulations we have been forced to call a fire drill and try a different technique. Instead of doing a separate register for each form, we’re doing one per year group.” Groans erupted as it dawned that this would take longer than usual, meaning longer stood in the cold. “Please cooperate here! Raise your hand and say, ‘yes’ when I say your name. Okay. Year 7. Jenine Aberford.”
“Yeah.” A hand stuck out of the rabble.
“Bethany Axe.” Another ‘yes’ was shouted, accompanied by a hand. The process seemed to go on forever before he reached Year 11. “Right,” Jukes announced, “Years 7, 8, 9, 10 return to lessons please.” Another groan from year 11 and 6th Form. Dante stood in displeasure as he watched the rest of the school file away. He looked around again, totally disinterested in the events around him. Something moved again. He looked behind him, and again he saw something. The wind, surely. There was no wind. The register finally began but Dante continued to watch as more and more tiny movements seemed to take place at the edges of his vision. He’d move to get a better look and there was nothing there. Paranoia. With Hatake being about a third of the way down the register, Dante had a fair, agonising, shifty wait before it was his turn.
“Dante Hatake.”
“Here.” Dante called.
“Dante Hatake. Wave your arm please, are you present?”
Of course I’m present, you were with me twenty minutes ago, you dolt! Dante thought savagely as he did an emphasised wave at Jukes, pulling a face causing a few titters to go up around him. Mr Jukes just looked at him for a moment, and then shifted his eyes quickly to somewhere behind him. Dante turned too, and there was definitely someone moving through the crowd towards him. There were definitely people in the shrubbery. Dante froze, but remembering his training, palmed a knife, never taking his eyes off the figure. The man wore a long black coat that was flapping gently as a gentle wind plucked at it, his wavy, shoulder-length hair was casually messed and his piercing blue eyes were locked onto Dante, a smile of bitter contempt twisting his lips as he easily navigated the crowd.
Another two men, similarly dressed in smart clothes were also weaving through towards him, their black attire standing out easily against the hideous red-and-gold of the school colours. One broke into a run as Dante saw him. He had a knife. A very, very long knife that flashed in the watery sun as he pulled it smoothly from a holster. Dante wasn’t sure what type it was- he’d never seen a single sided, curved blade like this, the blade sculpted from some lustrous black stone that seemed to glint red as blood where it caught the sun, but he knew one thing. That knife was destined for his flesh. The man was shoving students now, who began to scream at the sight of the knife. Chaos erupted. Dante forced his body to work, forcing his training to the forefront of his mind. He fixed the man in his mind, aimed and threw his knife. The man took it right between the eyes, staggered sharply sideways and dropped like a fly. Dante hadn’t killed in a long time, and he didn’t like it. “Shit,” he cursed loudly, staring at the body metres away.
The other men leapt into action, suddenly a few more than Dante had originally seen they all ran forwards, except one. Blue-eyes. Dante had no time to think. He bolted through the gap he’d created and onto the field. With free space, he picked up pace easily, sprinting from one side to the other in seconds. A flurry of throwing knives whizzed past him, but never close to lethal spots. These men weren’t out to kill him. Dante chanced a quick look behind him. Mr Jukes was watching calmly while the rest of the school panicked. Just leaving the confines of the crowd were five men all dressed in black and eyeing Dante up with practised precision, but Blue-eyes wasn’t there. He turned back and darted for a hole in the fence that he knew was just behind this tree... Two men jumped out, taking Dante by surprise. One however, quickly ended up with a knife in his jugular thanks to Dante’s lightning reactions. Now, weaponless, he was pitted against the second man who appeared to be wielding a crossbow. A crossbow? He skidded to a halt and managed to throw himself into a side-roll just in time to miss a crossbow quarrel to the kneecap. He shivered at the thought.
Wheeling around, he saw that his pursuers were moving forwards slowly in a semi-circle. He had no chance of escape. The man behind wasn’t shooting anymore, and three more men were appearing to circle him. Dante turned in a circle, looking for a gap but these men were well organised, it seemed. Blue-eyes had emerged now and was stood out of the perimeter of the circle, watching. He seemed like the leader, so Dante faced him squarely and tried to look confident, standing tall and looking him in the eye aggressively. Blue-eyes grinned.
Suddenly the sound of running feet approached behind him and a mass slammed his body sideways. Dante groaned as pain shot up his back and he tried to blink shooting stars from his vision. An unmistakable cold nicked his flesh near the jugular. Dante laid back his head and looked up at his attacker. Cold green eyes looked down the shaft of a one-foot knife. In an instant three other men were on him including Blue-eyes. He kneeled and conducted a lightning body search while others threatened him down with knives and crossbows. Who the hell are these people? Dante thought, stunned. “Ok. Get up. Up up up!” Green-eyes snapped cruelly, disorientating Dante. He struggled to his feet and was impatiently shoved by Green-eyes who then put a knife to Dante’s throat. A wave of nausea washed over him and he stopped, gasping for breath. Green-eyes was having none of it. He punched Dante in the stomach and then kneed him forwards as he retched drily. When he straightened again he saw that the population of Year 11 and 6th Form were watching in stunned silence. Blue-eyes came over, “Put your hands behind your back,” he said cooly.
Dante complied immediately.
“Good. You learn fast,” he whispered into Dante’s ear from behind as he put a set of manacles on his wrists. He put a slender hand on Dante’s shoulder and almost too gently guided him across the field towards Mr Jukes.
Jukes stood tall, looking down at Dante hunched forwards in pain still. “Kage.” Mr Jukes said to Blue-eyes.
“Is this him? You didn’t mention that he was armed.” He said calmly, but with a dangerous undertone as he gestured at the two bodies being carried away by soldiers in black military gear. Jukes blanched.
“It... it is. Tell me, what will you do to him?”
“That, is none of your concern. The Syndicate will do as required, you know the drill.”
Dante suddenly felt angry and frustrated. He refused to move as Kage tried to push him away, “You gave me up. You coward. I’ll be back for you, sir.” He hissed through gritted teeth as Kage ‘gently coaxed’ by applying more and more pressure with a knife until Dante felt it draw blood. When he still refused to move and continued staring daggers at Jukes, Kage kicked the back of his knee savagely and he fell to his knees. Yet he still retained eye contact with Mr Jukes as Kage put his knife firmly to his throat and whispered, “Come along now.” In response he tried to get up. Kage helped him and then led him to the back gate of the school. Dante limped along, his body broken, but not in spirit.
“Who are you?” He dared to ask.
“Your worst nightmare.”
Dante didn’t reply. He’d just been crushed with a block of ice and his entire body turned cold. Even his heart turned cold as all hope and defiance seemed to betray him.
Kage was telling the truth.

The other men were already waiting outside the gates. Dante gasped in shock and almost stopped at the sight that met him. Every parking space that had been cleared along the road, and for about 150 yards each way was parked a caravan of black 4x4 vehicles. Placed at regular intervals were men with crossbows who upon seeing Kage and Dante emerge cocked a bolt to their bows and aimed at Dante with easy precision. With that he decided it would be best to get out of the line of fire and tried to drag Kage back to the shelter of the gate. His lean frame betrayed none of his strength. It seemed to take nothing for Kage to lock Dante in place and threaten, “Don’t, Dante, you’ll make it worse,” in a low voice. Dante was breathing quick and panicky as he was pushed towards the central truck. He was tensed in anticipation of being pierced by one of those 12 bolts. The mad-man who had tackled Dante earlier was stood by the car door with a sick smile twisting his lips. “Open it, Stark,” Kage ordered. He bowed and climbed in to the far seat. Kage pushed Dante in next and then sandwiched him in. Suddenly sitting still made Dante realise just how much he was trembling. Both Stark and Kage had a knife drawn in expectation of him baulking. Not likely. The car pulled out behind the armoured truck infront of it and set off at wheel-screeching pace down the street as cars swerved to avoid it. The windows were blacked out on either side, but Dante could see out the front window, and the two soldiers on the back of the truck with guns. It made his skin crawl to think of the amount of guard he was under. What do they think I’m going to do? Knife them with invisible knives with my hands tied behind my back? Dante thought. Just because he did some training in knife, and unarmed combat didn’t make him this special. Something was going on.
In no time Dante had completely lost his bearings, and after about an hour he began to get restless. His arms ached from sitting back against them, but he didn’t dare to move. Time went on and it became painful to remain in the same position. As slowly as he could he tried to shift his arms further up his back, but as soon as he started to move a jolt of the car caused his arms to move suddenly. Both Kage and Stark leapt into action, drawing a second knife from under-arm holsters and laying the first across his neck, pinning him to the seat. “What are you doing?” Kage growled dangerously. He didn’t even look at him.
“I.... I was shifting position.... my arms--”
“Get comfy now, we have a while to go yet. Stark.” Kage moved his knife aside and Stark mirrored his actions. Reluctantly. Dante moved his arms around as much as he could and then sat back again.

Dante didn’t know how long the journey was, but when they finally came to a halt the environment that he was shoved out of the truck into by Stark was barren. A dirt track was still depositing dust into the air in the caravan’s wake, and aside from shrubbery and an old abandoned car there was nothing. He staggered on wooden legs and fell to his knees in the dust. Dante counted about 10 military vehicles parked on the track and men armed with tomahawks, knives, guns and crossbows were dressed in black. The men with guns were in black military gear, whereas the crossbowmen and knifemen wore suits and trenchcoats. Kage stood out from the others with blue trims on his jacket to match his eyes. Stark took Dante’s shoulder and forced him to his feet with a growl, and then produced a piece of cloth from his pocket. Dante looked at him quizzically.
“Goodnight sunshine,” he said. It seems he met it literally, for he took the cloth and crudely tied it across Dante’s eyes. He was then marched forwards in silence to some unknown destination. Dante didn’t feel that they went far, but it definitely felt as if they went down a steady incline. Soon, the sound of many feet echoed around them, and the sound of a large door slamming shut completely split the almost-silence, causing him to jump with shock and jolt the knife that suddenly pressed against his kidney. Being forced to stand still, he listened to the sounds of keys turning in a rusty lock, and then hinges screeching in protest to a metal gate being opened. He was then pushed forwards a few paces, his blindfold roughly removed, and shown the huge cavern around him, and the round barred cell he was caged in. The gate clanged shut, echoing loudly. The ceiling went up into the darkness and the edges of the cave were almost completely shrouded in shadow, except for a small white door with light leaking around the edges. The huge door that had caused Dante to startle truly was huge and operated by some sort of electrical mechanism. Tiny square windows about 20 feet up the door allowed a small amount of unnatural-looking light in, but it wasn’t enough to penetrate the dark. Dante looked to who had shut the gate. Kage. Stark still gripped him with a sadistic determination. Positioned around the outside of the cell were more military men. Stark unshackled Dante’s wrists and then stepped back to the edge of the cell, smiling. Dante rolled his shoulders gratefully, but the feeling of blood rushing back hurt. In the darkness Kage made some gesture, and suddenly blinding floodlights came on with a mechanical whump, shocking Dante and forcing him to squint. He groaned.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Kage asked, his voice ringing and eyes flashing.
“No,” Dante replied blankly, still disorientated. Before he even had time to react Stark had appeared infront of him. He punched Dante in the nose precisely and then disappeared back behind him. Dante tottered back a couple of steps in shock, and then the pain dawned on him. Somehow Stark hadn’t broken his nose, even with such a forceful punch, but it was still bleeding profusely and agony overwhelmed him. He put his hands to his nose and doubled over with another groan. “That’s sir to you,” Stark barked. Dante nodded madly in response, unable to speak, but that quickly change when Stark jumped around and punched again. Dante heard a cracking noise in his ear. Even his attempt at a block had failed miserably against this man’s amazing speed. He yelped with shock and sank to the floor, quivering with pain and anger. “You’re pathetic!” Stark exclaimed almost gleefully as he savagely kicked him. “Get up and speak!” He shouted cruelly in Dante’s ear as he yanked him up by his collar. Dante sagged in his grip but looked up under his eyebrows at the sound of a low, evil laugh from Kage.
He trembled with fear and rage, but forced himself into submission. “No, sir. I don’t know why I’m here.” This man was bad. Stark let him go and left him to stand swaying in the centre of the cell. Kage produced a knife and offered it to Dante hilt first, who flinched expectantly. “Fight me,” he said, “and that’s an order.” Dante stood, gawping, but took the knife. Kage smiled and then charged. He didn’t even draw any weapons. Dante dodged a backhanded sweep and managed to get his balance. He found that it wasn’t hard to attack with intent to kill. He dropped into a crouch, easily missing Kage’s roundhouse kick, and then spun on his haunches to swipe at his exposed back. Dante had him- he knew it- and then was on the floor with Kage pinning him down. The knife Dante had held in his hand was still there, but Kage had bent his arm back and was holding the knife to the back of his head. All he needed to do was drive it home. How the hell did he do that? Dante didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “You see,” Kage whispered gently in his ear, sending shivers up his spine. “It’s all about deception. It’s how I live.” Then he got up and stood back, leaving the knife with Dante. “Now here’s what you’ll do, and if you don’t I’ll make you very unhappy.”
Dante looked at his blood pattering the floor, “I am very unhappy.”
Kage ignored the comment, “Kill Stark.”
Dante and Stark’s jaw dropped at the same time. Dante looked at Stark, who was staring at Kage. “I’m sorry, Stark, you’re just not useful to me anymore.” Kage shrugged. “Dante, do it. This man hurt you. He beat you.”
“Wait! Dante! You don’t understand.” Stark cried. He’d drawn two knives and was backing away.
Dante firmed his grip on the knife and crept towards Stark, whose eyes widened in shock. “Don’t! Oh, God no!” He shrieked. Thinking back on the things Stark had done to him made Dante all the angrier. Anger was lethal. His hands were slick with blood- his blood. Dante rushed forwards and dodged the clumsy cross handed block he made. “Don’t--- I can’t—I--” Stark stuttered wildly. Instead of cutting him now, Dante reversed his grip on the knife and crushed Stark’s knuckles with the hilt, causing him to drop the knife in his right hand with a yell. Dante caught it. Stark made another swipe, but it was clumsy and miscalculated. Dante moved out of its way lithely and drove one knife into his stomach simultaneously, then kicked him forwards to sprawl on the floor. He coughed, and he brought up a great globule of blood. Dante couldn’t work out what had come over him, but he liked it. He knelt by Stark and pulled him up to slump in front of him and pushed his two knives to either side of his neck. So easy. Cold-bloodedly, he said nothing as he whipped the knives across Stark’s neck and held him as his body drained of life’s blood and convulsed. Dante flung him forwards again so his face hit the floor with a wet crunch. “Yes. Perfect.” Kage praised quietly, “And that is why we want you.”

Kage left Dante in the cell with the body in the dark. When his bloodlust had dissipated and he could see clearly what he had done, he threw up. Over and over again. Stark’s blood pooled around his head and clotted, turning black. Dante began to tremble and managed to stagger as far from the body as he could before he legs gave out and he collapsed against the bars. How long he was there for, he didn’t know. Any sense of time was lost and even the guard shifts didn’t help, for they were uneven and staggered. He couldn’t bear to glance at the body at the centre of the cell. He began hallucinating. Sometimes Dante would sit and watch as the body of Stark rose and turn those hollows where eyes were on him. It would lift a black finger and point accusingly at him. Murderer. Multi-murderer. He would whimper in terror, his dignity long forgotten, and draw back as it dragged its limbs slowly across the floor to him. He would close is eyes. Scream. And then a guard would pull him back from insanity with a good hard smack with the butt of a gun through the bars that caged him from normality and relaxation and calmness. Dante reached a point where the hallucinations were so common that he didn’t react anymore. He would let the vile stone- cold fingers of his mother trace the line of his jaw as it’s hollow eyes searched him for regret, self loathing. It found it. He would let his father shout and rant and rave with shattered teeth about his weaknesses, blood and spittle flying. Dante’s eyes had fully adjusted to the dark and he could see everything. He didn’t eat, sleep or drink. He became an animal of the night, and he was brimming with hate and anger. Anger was lethal.
Kage came whenever it was. The floodlights came on again with their familiar sound and unexpectedness. Dante sheltered his eyes as pain flooded his head and crouched as far from the door as he could, listening to the sound of Kage’s footsteps circling the cage. Dante’s nerves were shattered, and he cried out when Kage reached through the bars and ran his fingers down his spine. “You’ve been getting thinner.” Kage laughed.
The clanging of the gate alerted him to Kage’s entrance. He let a small amount of light to his eyes, bit by bit. “Dante, I have someone to see you.” Kage’s icy voice said into the silence. Me? Why? Dante forced himself to look up, finding it hard to focus because of his dehydration and starvation. Kage was stood infront of him, shielding his view of the body 10 paces away. Someone moved behind him and Dante’s suspicious eyes flicked immediately to Stark. Alive and smiling. Dante gawped at Stark and then stood shakily from where he had stood for far too long. His pool of vomit was still at his side and he almost stood in it as his legs protested at standing.
“You’re alive.” Dante managed to force through cracked lips.
“Better than ever. You like his acting? Wasn’t really acting though, was it?”
“Who is it?” Dante said flatly, strangely calm.
“Why don’t you find out?” Kage suggested, smiling slightly. Dante steeled himself and tottered over to the unknown dead. The body was cold. Hard. He rolled it over, forcing it to unstick from its bloody bed. He retched, but had nothing to bring up. The dead eyes looked up from his bruised and broken face. Sid wasn’t smiling anymore. Again, he retched. “He did nothing.” Dante growled. I killed him. Murderer.
“He worked for us. We can do what we want with him. He hunted you down and relayed back to us. Nothing indeed.”
“He worked with you...” Dante’s mind wasn’t working. “But... but I killed Stark. It was him!”
“It’s a spell. An Influence. I manipulate exactly how he acts and looks. What you saw as you.. took him out was the Influence being affected by Siddartha’s adrenaline. Unfortunately it’s very hard to maintain when he was shitting himself as much as he was.” Kage said disdainfully. “Now, come with us.”
“I killed Sid.”
“Yes, you murdered him in cold blood you pathetic creature. He was no match for you.” Stark interjected.
“Come with us.” Kage repeated more firmly, his eyes flashing dangerously as he took a step forwards. Dante moved.
Kage led and Stark pushed Dante through the small door in the cave wall. Through that door the change was almost too dramatic to comprehend. It was like walking into an office building. Bright lights fitted into the ceiling glared down at them and there were doors at regular intervals along the walls, but the windows were blacked out. Each door was completely different, ranging from steel enforced mahogany to glass patio doors. After what seemed like a maze of corridors, Dante was shoved through a very beautiful mahogany carved door, with small fronds of ivy carved delicately into the wood. The room was warm with red furnishings, a wooden floor with a red rug, and mahogany wall panels. It was like stepping back in time. “Sit down,” Kage commanded, gesturing at a red armchair by the fire as he seated himself at the mahogany desk that dominated the room. Stark positioned himself by the door. Dante glanced at the window. It was curtained. Kage opened his mouth to speak before somebody knocked at the door. “Come in,” Kage snapped, irritated. Two burly men strode in, dressed in boots, breeches and a shirt with rawhide lacings up the front. It reminded Dante of the 1400’s. “Oh, yes. You have the clothes I presume? Good. Wait outside until it’s time.” The men bowed deeply and left again. Dante sat in confusion throughout the exchange. Outside the door as the men left wasn’t the sterile white corridors he had entered from. “Where the hell am I?” Dante demanded in alarm, standing up. Stark forced him down with a knife.
“This is my home. My world. My time. And where you will work from now on.”
“You can’t force me,” Dante said defiantly.
“No, we can’t. But we can... encourage you.”
“Hah! And how exactly will you do that?”
“Why, like this.” Kage said smugly. At that moment, the door snicked. Dante stood immediately and was instantly wrestled back into his seat by Stark who was suddenly infront of him. “Get off!” he yelled, beginning to panic. The two servants were back and ran to Dante, pinning him down. Kage stood slowly and took a wooden box from his desk. He struggled feebly against the three men as Kage produced a huge syringe. He smiled and waltzed across the room torturously slowly. “You’ll like this. No words can describe how attractive it is. See for yourself.” Kage plunged the needle into Dante’s wrist.
Dante thought back to the days at school when girls had had cervical cancer injections. The boys had used to laugh and joke about how pathetic they were. Then when it came to the boys having jabs, you could see the fear in the other’s eyes. Dante had felt it too. They were nothing though- you could barely feel it. He had felt like such an idiot when he came out with nothing but a bead of blood on his arm.
This injection was completely different.
The needle was much, much thicker. Dante could see the effort it took Kage to force it the full way into his wrist and push out the green liquid into his bloodstream. With normal injections, Dante could remember, you could feel the liquid go into you. It was a nasty sensation, but not pain as such. Here, the volume of liquid looked to be about ten times as much, and Dante could feel it. He felt as if his vein were about to burst. He cried out in pain as it shot up his arm and baulked, trying to displace the men. He almost did it but Stark suddenly thumped Dante’s leg and he fell back, groaning. The other servants then took their chance to pin him down fast. It seemed like an eternity before the liquid was gone and Kage yanked the needle from Dante’s flesh. Dante sat there, panting with pain and terror. “What was that what the hell was that why are you doing this ohhhh God what the fuck was that!?” he rambled. Everything around him tilted, and he panicked again.
“No! Sit, relax. Feel it.” He did as Kage bade him. The strange liquid was there; he could feel it from head to toe rushing through his system. Dante felt stronger than ever. It was so good, regardless of the pain. “Yes, you see?” Kage said passionately as he saw Dante lay his head back and shudder with the ecstatical climax. Kage smiled. Dante didn’t.
“What is that shit?” He spat, trembling with exhilaration.
“It slows aging, you don’t need to sleep, food or drink, it heals you faster, and makes you stronger, faster. You can feel it.” Kage was right. Dante’s nose was fine now, the constant ache gone.
“That won’t be enough to keep me here.” He said defiantly, already having doubts.
“We’ll see.”

Once Dante had been injected Stark took him roughly by the arm and dragged him out of the warm room, and- somehow- into the whitewashed corridors of the main complex. He took him back to his cell and shoved him in, so that he fell against the bars of the opposite wall. Dante’s senses were on overdrive, and unfortunately that mean he could feel the bitter cold between waves that of warmth that rushed through him. It was an odd experience. His eyes adjusted more quickly this time, but he still had a hard time getting a good look around. Dante didn’t know what was going to happen to him, and he didn’t want to know. The body- Sid’s body- and blood were gone from the floor, which was a relief but he still shuddered when he thought of it. Was Sid in the same position as I? Dante thought morosely. They are going to pay for doing this to me.
Dante was sat, relishing the thought of what he would do to Kage and his men when he got the chance, when a pinprick of sound caught his attention. He had been in prison long enough to get used to the absolute silence and occasional loud scuffs of the guards moving around. This was different. The tiniest sound. Dante turned his head sharply, trying to catch the noise, straining. No. Nothing. I’m going insane. He thought, much to his amusement. He started laughing, quietly at first, but then it came out hysterically. The kind of laugh that really was terrifying. Another noise silenced Dante. It was closer this time, he was sure. His heart began to pump faster, adrenaline rushing through his veins, mixing with the serum. Dante couldn’t see. “Hello?” He said to the darkness, knowing the guards were but 20 paces away. No response. He was paralysed with fear- not daring to move. Then suddenly the charging whump of the floodlights gave Dante a quarter-seconds notice to the light that blasted him. He shielded his eyes as a natural reaction, but then forced himself to look up. Kage, Stark, and five other guards had formed a semi-circle around Dante, pinning him into where he was crouched.
He cried out in shock, throwing himself backwards into the bars.
“Stand up.” Kage said, “Do exactly as I say.” Dante stood slowly, eyeing the men suspiciously. “Now take off all your clothes and put them there in a pile.”
Oh, now that’s awkward. Dante opened his mouth to protest, but before he could even squeak all the guards had raised their guns and loaded them to fire. He threw his hands up in response. Kage ordered them to stand down. “Do it. Now.” He said dangerously. Dante complied, stiffly, and then stood naked in silence before them. He could see Stark smirking. He wanted to kill him.
Kage looked Dante up and down with a shadow of a smile on his handsome face, then his eyes locked on to his chest. “What’s that?” Kage said.
“It’s personal.” Dante replied, even more stiffly. What Kage was looking at was a scar that diagonally spanned his chest.
“What. Is. That.” Kage growled, his eyes flashing.
“I.... I.... Ah....”
“What is it!”
“It’s a scar.”
Kage’s eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed. “Let’s try that again. What is that?”
“A scar.”
“No!” Kage roared, his temper flaring. He strode over to Dante and smacked him across the cheek. Dante could taste blood. “Where did you get that scar? Who did that to you?”
“I’m not tell--”
“Yes, you are.” Kage said flatly with a smack.
“Please, I--”
“Don’t even bother!” He kicked him in the shin.
“Oh, God! Oh, no! Ah!” Dante cried as Kage kicked him again so he was down on the floor.
“Get up.” Kage grabbed Dante, forgetting his nakedness, and shoved him against the bars with a bodily clang as the bars shook with the force. “I want to know who scarred you so. And you will tell me. Or I will hurt you more. Until you tell me. Do you understand?”
“Why?”
“I said do you understand?” He kneed Dante’s crotch, who tried to double over and made the tiniest screech through his teeth as he tried not to betray himself.
Dante panted for a moment, shattered. “Yes.” He forced out.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, master. I understand.” Dante was subdued and looked off into nowhere, still panting softly.
“Good. Who gave you that scar?”
Dante sighed, desperate not to share his information. “My father. He’s dead.”
“Would you care to share what happened?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“I was given a contract from The Guild against him and mother. I killed her, but father knew it was coming. He fought me and died.” Dante hadn’t been the same since. He had been bound to The Guild and had to kill them, but he hadn’t wanted to. He’d been 11.
“So why does your scar bare residue magic from Hellstone. Like that of a Hellsword?”
“I don’t know. God, I don’t know. The Guild took his sword. Oh, God, Kage. Please, no.” Kage had drawn a dagger and was looking down between them thoughtfully. “Kage? Kage. That’s all I know. Look at me. Look. I don’t know any more.”
“I believe you.” He put away the knife and stepped backwards, a funny look on his face.
Dante sighed shaggily, his eyes fluttering shut with relief.
“If you resist this, I’ll be forced to hurt you.” Kage now warned blandly as a guard dragged in a hose pipe. Dante knew what was coming, but he still wasn’t prepared when bone-cold water blasted his face. Uncomfortable on its own, yes, but the serum had heightened Dante’s senses and he felt the cold more than ever. He gasped and leapt back with shock. “Stand still!” Kage commanded over the roar of the water. Dante cowered back but didn’t move as the guard gave him a thorough cleaning. When it was over, he was trembling uncontrollably with cold. Kage bade him dry off with a rag and then tossed a pile of black clothing and boots at him. Dante pulled on a black pair of breeches and strapped a thigh holster to his leg before Kage could do anything. Next, a loose black roughspun cotton shirt with rawhide lacing up the collar to loosen it in hot weather. Black riding boots, and weapons belt and wrist guards came next. Kage looked Dante up and down and smiled. Dante seethed.
“Well then. Let’s get you geared up.”
“Oh, what the hell?” Dante groaned.
Kage strode out, walking towards the door. Dante followed after some encouragement from Stark. The other guards took up position around him, as if he’d attack them with Kage around. After walking in a solitary daze for a bit, it dawned on Dante that Kage was going to make him a killer. He didn’t want to kill again. He stopped dead. Stark stopped also, hovering over Dante’s shoulder like a bad smell, waiting for him to move. He didn’t shift. Stark leaned in and Dante tensed.
“Come on, lad. There’s no escaping the bitter business.” He said almost gently. Dante turned and looked into Stark’s eyes. There was pain there he hadn’t seen before. He’d been like me. The realisation crashed down him. This man was a slave too. And look what it had done to him.
Dante walked rigidly on, trying to hide the trembling in his hands and the light headedness he felt. Kage opened a black wood door with chipped paint and stepped into darkness. Dante followed in just as Kage opened some shutters on barred windows to let light into the dusty room. It was quite large- long rather than square, and along every wall were knives, swords, bows, different arrows, morningstars, cudgels. Every weapon you could think of. They lit up perfectly in the warm sunlight that poured in from outside. They were in a city now, Dante saw. Carts rattled by lazily in the red morning glare and ladies and peasants alike bustled through the city past the glassless window, their chatter a perfect melody to Dante’s sound-deprived ears. Something was strange though. As people walked by there was a more hurried attitude as they passed. Some glanced worriedly into the gloom inwhich we were concealed and many gave the building a wide berth as it was. This was obviously Kage’s property, and people knew it.
Now Dante looked at the weapons the memory of the man back at his school with the black knife was etched into his mind. Every weapon had an aspect of that stone here. Arrow heads, knife blades, swords, even the Morningstar had black stone spikes. The red sun made them glint blood red, turning slightly transparent. Dante was mesmerised. “Hellstone.” Kage said as if it would bear some resemblance to Dante. “It’s one of the best weapons materials around, and top secret. I think.... you will need knives, obviously.” Kage wandered down the rows of weapons, carefully choosing several different sized knives. He came back and put them on the table in the centre of the room. The widest foot-long knife went at Dante’s hip, the smallest kunai knives in his belt. Two long thin stiletto knives went down his back between his shoulder blades, about two feet long, a smaller one at his thigh. A couple more leaf-knifes slipped into pockets inside his boot.
“Ok, follow me. Stark, keep an eye on Hatake here.”
“Yessir.”
Kage turned and savagely burst through another door and into the streets. A few ladies shrieked and then quickly averted their eyes, hurrying away to do their business. Three horses were already tied down an alley next to the small, dark fortress-like building we had just emerged from. It didn’t fit in at all with the sandy-coloured stone of other buildings and carefully cared for window boxes fixed to windows several stories high around us. Despite the height of most of the buildings, they didn’t seem to crowd you in like would be expected. Dante liked it here. The air felt clean and fresh, and the calmness of an early summer morning was joyous.
Kage, Dante and Stark rode through the brightening streets at a trot, so the crowds parted like the red sea and then flooded back together in their wake. Dante kept constantly aware of what Kage was doing. The way he looked this way and that and seemed to leer at young ladies as they passed, smiling charmingly. When Kage abruptly slowed to a walk Dante went on high-alert. He watched Kage as he seemed to lock eyes with someone and his face darkened with hate. Dante searched the crowds and saw another man, dressed in black and with red throwing stars around his belt. He wore black gloves on his hands but the sleeves of his tunic were rolled up. Around his neck and mouth and nose he wore a red scarf, obscuring half of his face. His eyes lit in a malicious smile at Kage, who in turn forced his stare into a smile. He scared Dante. Kage continued to smile and gave the young, blonde-haired man a slow and deliberate salute of mockery. He nodded in return, then his eyes fixed onto Dante. Dante broke eye contact quickly and stepped his horse up into a trot through the streets after Kage who had sped off again. Behind him, Dante heard Stark say, “My lord,” and then the sound of him following. Curious.
After a while the streets became wider, until the road was a beaten dust trail and only a few golden houses, ruins, fields and fences littered the village they now road through. There was less traffic too, and so Kage pushed his horse for a gentle lope. Looming ahead was a cliff, its face golden in the sun like that of the buildings that dominated the area. To either side of the road the cliff closed in, sheltering the town from the wind. Up ahead, the road became a small track that disappeared into a glade of trees, before appearing as a white zig-zag line up the face of the cliff until it reached the top, where a small tower and a cottage were isolated from the gentle buzzing of the now afternoon heat. “That is our destination.” Kage said plainly, and then continued up the road.
From the top of the cliff the view was astounding. The city spread out like a tapestry below them within the confines of the cliff edge, and a few similar towers to the one Dante now stood below were placed around the mouth of the cliff, standing sentinel over the city. Beyond civilisation, golden sandy plains spread as far as the eye could see, only broken by a grey scar cut into the land. Some sort of road Dante supposed. The cottage here was small and humble next to the seemingly abandoned tower. Weeds and ivy grew up the tower face and many windows were boarded. It wasn’t tall- only about four floors, but it was enough with the height advantage the cliff gave it. Across the dusty yard the three men had emerged onto was a small menagerie with two horses grazing lazily in the sun on hay. By the house were two goats picking at weeds, and around the yard area were a few scattered hard-wearing shrubs. Kage and Stark dismounted and took their horses to a post by the house to tie them.
“Put yours in the field there with the others.” Kage commanded coldly as he strode off to the cottage. Stark was glaring at him while his back was turned. Dante released the horse and started towards Kage who, after failing to get a reply by knocking proceeded to kick the door down. With an impressive 360 spin on his toe and a lash out with his heel he sent the door almost flying off its hinges. He disappeared inside for a moment, and then reappeared carrying a slender young woman by her waist who was shouting a whole manor of curses at him. Obviously they knew eachother well, for Kage just smiled at her angry attempts to get out of his hold. He dropped her and was immediately attacked by the flighty woman, who spun quickly towards him with her fists ready, her brown glossy hair whirling with her. They fought blindingly quickly for about a minute, exchanging blows harmlessly until the young lady managed to fool Kage into punching too hard. She stepped out at the last second, and not meeting the resistance he expected, Kage pitched forwards with a curse. He managed to catch himself, but spun around again to a dagger touching his throat. He looked down at it and smiled, then leaned forwards against it, testing how far she would take it. He began to draw blood before she winced and put the little knife away.
“La’liel. How lovely to see you.” Kage said, bowing deeply and professionally.
She tossed her head and batted her eyelids. She was beautiful, “Don’t kick down my door next time. You know I hate it when you do that. Sir.” She had an accent, but Dante couldn’t place what it was. “What brings you here?”
“I want you to find out what weapons Hatake here can use effectively. He used to assassinate for The Guild but he quit after he murdered his own mother and father at 11. I gave him the serum to keep him around and he’s already having withdrawal symptoms- his body can’t bear not having the drug in his veins.” Kage gestured to Dante’s trembling hands. He clutched them behind his back and scowled, not daring to say anything that would betray the sorrow or fear he felt. Kage continued, “He’s very adept with knives and silent killing methods, but not so much in battle. The Guild are the best assassins in the world, so it’ll be good for us to have one on our side.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side.” Dante snarled.
“Dante. This is Mistress La’liel. She’s a mercenary and a skilled trained. You’re going to be working with her for a few weeks.”
Dante scowled more and looked at the Mistress. She was just a bit shorter than him, and as lean as a pike. He looked her up and down and took in the smooth curves of her waist and breast, somewhat disrespectfully, not hidden at all by the shorts and tight-cropped top she wore with an array of various scabbards and blades.
Either she didn’t notice, or she was pretending not to, for she turned to Kage and said, “Where do I need to start?”
Kage smiled.

He started out with the long range weapons- crossbows, longbows and the likes. Dante’s skill with a longbow was considerable, and by the end of the day he was able to hit a bullseye at 200 paces, though his fingers were bloody from the drawstring. Mistress La’liel was impressed. Kage and Stark had gone down into the city on business and so Dante was blessedly alone with La’liel when night began to fall. By then his entire arms were shaking violently from the drug. He couldn’t hide it. Mistress made him follow her to the dining bench outside her cottage with the Aquerian longbow he’d been exceeding with, though now he could barely hold it. Dante put his head in his hands. He was exhausted and felt feint from the combination of the rigorous training and the drug finally leaving him in a state.
Dante didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t go on without it.
“He gave you a big dose, huh?” La’liel said softly.
He exhaled sharply, and that came out shaky too. Tears welled in his eyes. He looked away.
“Listen to me.” She said, gently commanding Dante’s attention. “Master Kage is a very, very dangerous man to get on the wrong side of. I’m begging you, don’t try to kill him, because when you fail, he will make you suffer so much that you want to die. That drug is potent stuff, and he’ll keep giving it to you- get you totally reliant on the shit and that’ll be how he keeps you with him. Don’t try to stop him giving it to you, because he will hurt you. All I ask is that you don’t fall into its grasp. I want to give you the talent you need to beat him but I can’t, that’s up to you. And one more thing. Don’t scream when he brands you; he likes it.”
“Brands? What are--”
“Shh! He’s back. Please, just do as he says.” She looked worried.
Dante could hear voices penetrating the darkness now. Then they appeared from the little dirt track that wound its way up the cliff face. They both stood to greet them. Dante left the bow behind, not sure he’d be able to hold it. As he approached, Kage staggered sideways sharply into a deadly serious Stark. When Dante got closer he realised what was wrong with Kage. He was completely and utterly drunk. La’liel approached first, and curtseyed politely, carefully. “Sir,” she said. Kage grunted and pulled her up into a rough kiss, his hands all over her. She looked disgusted, but accepting. She was used to this. Dante watched in complete and utter hatred and despair. As Kage went down to kiss her neck gently and slowly, his eyes locked on to Dante’s. He slowed to a deliberate and mocking pace, his eyes laughing cruelly as he saw the hatred blossom in Dante’s eyes and their natural darkness became a black pit. Kage’s hand slipped down to her thigh and between her legs. The he stopped and looked down at her breasts intently. “Come on girl, show me what you’ve got.” He took her by the wrist and pulled her to the cottage. He was stooped forwards with an uneven gait as he staggered determinedly to the house. Kage didn’t even bother to shut the door, just pushed La’liel up against the wall opposite the door and started mounting his body against hers as he undressed her. Dante felt sick. They disappeared around the corner, and from there all Dante could hear were the occasional grunts and excited moans of Kage taking his pleasure from her. He didn’t even care what they thought. He was too powerful and no one could do anything about it.
Dante turned away from the house and to Stark, trying to ignore the sounds of a weeping woman and flesh on flesh. He looked exhausted. In his hand he held a black-red dagger and was cleaning it on a hooded black cloak he wore over his black jacket and dark red scarf tight around his neck. Dante didn’t bother trying to agitate him, “Sir?” he asked warily. Stark’s bright green eyes shifted dangerously to Dante’s from the dagger. “May I enquire as to where you have been?”
He sighed tiredly and then said, “All you need to know is that Kage’s job went very, very wrong, and that you will have to face Kage in a very bad mood tomorrow.” He looked haunted. More sounds of crying burst from the cottage, but this time it wasn’t La’liel. Kage was crying, hard.
“I’m taking you back to your cell,” he Stark said sharply, grabbing Dante by the upper arm and shoving him through the menagerie gate---
---and into the sterile corridors of the complex.
Dante was gasping for breath with shock at how that had happened. It was like walking through a normal door from one room to another, except it was from one time and place to another. Stark dragged Dante through the corridors expertly, and to his cell. The guards around the cell perimeter were back, all armed with assault rifles. This time Dante managed to stay on his feet as he was thrown into his cell. Stark slammed the barred gate and left, the lights around the cell switching off in quick succession. Dante removed all his knives and then found himself drifting off to sleep with the absence of the serum in his blood, and drifting away from the horrible withdrawal symptoms, disturbing thoughts and cold.

Dante woke of his own accord and sat relishing the silent darkness for as long as he could. About an hour later the lights switched on and Kage came striding in, looking black. Dante stood immediately and followed him with his eyes. Stark followed a moment later, also looking angry, but suppressing it as well as he could. Kage shoved his way through the cell door with a clang and came right up to Dante, who tried not to flinch.
“Stark,” Kage snapped, “get the branding equipment.”
Dante’s stomach did somersaults. He didn’t know how to react. Don’t scream. He likes it. Dante did his best to look unflustered and squared up to Kage, looking him right in the eye. “Give me your wrist.” Kage commanded, not breaking eye contact. Dante broke eye contact and watched in dismay as Kage pulled another syringe out of his pocket. As much as he hated it, Dante found himself yearning for it. He forced himself to look away as Kage found the old, tender wound from a couple of days ago and stuck the needle right in. He screwed his eyes shut tighter and held his face in his free hand to try to take his mind off the pain, shuddering. Then it was over and he felt the blessed ecstasy take him. Dante panted a couple of breaths as his heart rate soared and then he fell back against the bars of the cage, exhausted. It felt incredible. His hands slowly stopped their shaking and he felt in equilibrium again. Kage was smiling cruelly, and they both knew that this was what bound Dante to him now.
Stark returned carrying a leather roll in his arms. He put it at Kage’s feet and rolled it out, revealing a multitude of iron bars and brands that Kage owned. Kage took one out and waved it Dante’s face, looking bored but sadistic at the same time. “This one,” he swallowed, “is what I use on badly behaved visitors, and this one here,” he lifted out another one that had an emblem on the end, “this one is yours.” Dante tried to focus on it as Kage waved it about, but couldn’t. Now he gestured at the whole lot. “As I decide, you’ll be moved up through the ranks, and you’ll get a new marking.” Dante hid his fear well.
“Stark, get him down.” Kage ordered. Stark came forwards and grabbed Dante by the collar. He pitched forwards and stumbled. Stark kicked the back of his knee and his leg buckled. Dante went down heavily, the wind being knocked from his lungs. Before he could recover, Stark was on top of him, all his weight put on his knee that was dug painfully into his back. Dante gritted his teeth and forced himself to put up with it. He could hear Kage’s footsteps coming up behind him. “There.” He said, and Dante felt a finger fall on the left side of his neck. Dante cringed. It was going to hurt. “I want those Syndicate bastards to know to whom he belongs.”
Dante’s shirt was pulled aside and he heard Kage murmur something, followed by a whoosh as a blast of heat rolled over him. He was using magic to heat the brand. Stark forced Dante’s head to the side and sudden warmth caressed his neck. “Ready?” Kage said to Stark. In response he put yet more weight onto Dante’s back and twisted his neck further, forcing him still with an iron grip.
It was cold at first. Freezing- Dante felt no pain, just a heavy pressure on his neck and the cold, making him gasp. Then, almost in mockery it burned hot. Dante balked and thrashed as the pain exceeded any he could bear, but Stark held down fast, only putting more weight on his already screaming back. Time seemed to slow, and he somehow managed to think of Mistress La’liel’s words. Don’t scream. Dante shut his mouth and bit his lip to try and stop the whimpers and gasps that escaped his mouth. Tears streamed down his face.
Kage peeled the brand from his skin and Dante forced himself to stillness, closing his eyes against the world. Stark released him, but he didn’t get up. Dante opened his eyes at the sound of Kage’s voice by his ear, whispering softly. “Now, lad. You did good. Well done. Not too bad, hey? That’s the way.” He pulled Dante upright so he was kneeling on the floor, swaying. “Good lad, here we go, this’ll make it better.” He soothed as he wrapped a treated bandage around Dante’s neck. “The serum will heal you up nice and quickly. It’ll be over soon.”
Dante took a deep, painful breath, “With all due respect, fuck off. Sir.”
Kage froze, a strange expression on his face. Stark strode forwards, but Kage stopped him with a hand. Then he got up and left, commanding Stark to follow. Dante was plunged into darkness and left.
The next morning, Stark came alone into Dante’s cell and pushed him to his feet to take him to training. The skin on the side of his neck felt stiff and rubbery under the bandage, and stung like hell with any movement. Kage’s serum wasn’t working fast enough for him. As they walked, Stark seemed to become rougher and rougher in his handling of Dante, like he was taking out some pent up fury on him. It reached a point where Stark’s hand was around Dante’s neck, grasping the tender wound on his neck. Dante tried desperately to put up with it, but ended up kicking off. He turned the wrong way abruptly at an intersection in the corridors so Stark’s grip slipped free. Dante rounded on him.
“What the fuck is your problem, you shite?! You treat me like I’m a fucking dog you can drag wherever you want and I won’t do a fucking thing!” Dante rubbed his sore neck. He temper was soaring, and he wasn’t about to let it go. He hadn’t slept, of course, because of the serum and he had had to put up with the pain of the brand all night. Kage’s absence made Dante overstep his mark a little. Stark stared at him in horror, and then his eyes flashed dangerously. He went to grab Dante by the neck again and slam him against the wall, but he dropped into a low stance Mistress La’liel had taught him to use if he were attacked while using a longbow. His anger was still building, “Don’t touch my neck you bastard!” He shrieked. “Don’t even touch me!”
Stark took a step back and smiled knowingly. He rubbed the side of his neck and his eyes went sad.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Stark said softly. He untied the dark red scarf he always had on concealing his neck and turned his head to one side. He had a brand, too. Dante gaped at him. “Follow me.” Stark said, and turned down a corridor Dante had never seen. It was dark and musty-smelling. He floor was mould-stained wood and an old moth-eaten red carpet lined the middle of the floor. The walls were once red, but the wallpaper was peeled to reveal brown-splotched plaster walls and wooden panels. At one point on the wall beside a beaten up old door was a big dark red bloodstain. The blood was flaking off the wall with age, but it still looked relatively new. Stark entered the door, and it rattled unhappily on its hinges. His quarters were dilapidated and dark. A wardrobe, an old wing-backed chair, a writing desk and a glass cabinet full of the serum injections, whiskey and other drugs and herbs were placed around the small room. On the far wall there was a multitude of various weapons hung. A crossbow, longbow, knives, daggers, swords, you name it. There were no windows or a fire. Only a lamp nest to the chair cast a yellow glow across the room. “The doors in the corridor are to my current mission locations. When I’ve carried out a contract, the door is replaced by Workers and I follow that one through too.” Dante turned to Stark. He stood bare-chested. His skin was a lattice of scars, big and small. They were everywhere, and many of them looked very, very deliberate. He didn’t quite know where to look. He turned to one side and showed his brands. He had six down his arm. He’d been through it six times. “It hurts a lot.”
He pointed to the last one. It looked quite recent. “This frees me from slavery to Master Kage, but it doesn’t mean I’m not a slave. Kage’s used that as an unofficial excuse to keep me in his service. I’m with him until I die, and once a slave, always a slave. You have long, long a while to go yet, lad.”
“I’ll get away. He will not break me. I will not be broken.” Dante said solemnly.
“Sure you will.” Stark said disbelievingly, but hopefully.

It was late morning when Stark and Dante emerged from the complex through the menagerie gate. Stark knocked on the door of the small cottage and swept into a perfect full court bow when a scowling La’liel emerged. “My Lady,” he said, averting his eyes.
“Stark.” She replied brusquely. “You may leave now.”
“Yes my Lady.” Stark turned to Dante, “Kage will be back tonight, and he has an erratic temper. Act like you should to your slave-master, or you might have a few issues with his fists.” A shadow of a rather- forgotten memory passed over his face. “He’ll be back for you later, but he might have other things on his mind first.” He said as he walked away. La’liel stiffened.
When Stark had gone Dante turned to her and smiled helplessly, then winced as his neck twinged. He put a hand up to his wound, and instantly regretted it.
“He’s branded you.” It wasn’t a question. Dante plucked the bandage idly in embarrassment. “Hell. I didn’t think he’d do it so early on. I’m so sorry. I suppose… something was seriously wrong with him that night. I’ve never seen him like that. He was distraught… gentle with me.”
He loo