Prologue

Prologue- Charles Lee The room was dark, a young figure sat bound to a chair, a black bag covering his face. The boy could remember little, seeming to have forgotten everything from his childhood to how to speak at all. Yet one thing remained a simple sentence and a name, “You should have killed him Johnny.” The boy unsure of his name found the phrase Johnny familiar; as if it had been his real at some point, though it couldn’t see his face he was rue that the name fit him. All Johnny could hear or feel was the bag over his face and a stinging pain in his head, a monstrous headache. How long had he been trapped with the bag over his face. It felt like an eternity, but was it? Could Johnny be sure of anything he though, if he didn’t even know what his own name was? A panic hit Johnny, time seemed pointless, and paranoia was on the offensive. Bound to the table in the hot room, he soon realized he was covered in sweat. He found himself not surprised, but did that mean anything. Everything that happened, Johnny wondered the relevance, the meaning and could find none, unable to tell if he was flawed or if life was. Thoughts raced through his mind, filled with questions that Johnny couldn’t dream of answering, it drove him mad. “How old am I? Where am I? Who am I?” The thoughts made Johnny shake with fear and violently throw out a sound of desperation, yet chains on the chair kept him from really moving around. Chains made of metal, heavy chains tied around much of his body, how could he not of felt them earlier. The thought of chains quickly left his mind and soon the sound of footsteps could be heard, like a fleet it seemed feet marched towards the room from an unknown distance, then without any warning all noise stopped and for a second there was silence. A hand grasped the door, and made a burning hiss as the door was opened. The sound of the door swinging into a metal wall was followed by now the whispered noise of footsteps. With that sound came the flinging of a switch, as the room burst with light. The presence of the new person made Johnny want to shake more filled the room. The bag even though it was black let in light and Johnny, with his eyes now closed could see several shapes of light moving about. The nearby person spoke in a voice clearly from a man, a slower voice that was low and also assertive. Yet, to call his voice deep and throaty or even to say his voice was raspy and powerful, was absurd. When he spoke he seemed to be in control, “You’ve been asleep for some time now, and you must be thirsty.” Johnny’s heart beat like a war drummer fuelled by the strongest form of speed available, realizing how desperately thirsty he was. “Water, need water. How long have I been here, how long? Where am I? Who…” Johnny spat out in a horrid mumble without hesitation. “You must understand, time is only relative and you are somewhere safe.” The man confidently projected. In the same breath, the man placed his hands over the bag on Johnny’s face and lifted upward, announcing in the process, “I am Lucien.” The light nearly blinded Johnny, leaving him unable to see anything more than Lucien’s overall shape. As Lucien explained,”You probably can’t remember much; perhaps you’ve even forgotten your own name. If you have, let me fix the issue, “he took a pause and mumbled to himself for a moment before continuing, “ Your name is Charles Lee and you work with me, in fact I’m the closest thing you have to family.” It all seemed too much to grasp, even the sun was too much. Lucien’s words sunk in though, but like gum in a stomach or plastic over time, the words did not break down. The thought of what Lucien did never occurred to him. Only that it was good and he was part of it. Yet the most confusing of it all was the odd statement of his real name being Charles Lee. The name rang a bell for Johnny, but not in the sense of it being his name, only in that it seemed a common name. Johnny started to shoot out words to Lucien in a state of fear, “What do we do? Is Lee my real name? Are you my dad?” Lucien glanced at Johnny when the word dad exited his mouth, giving off a disgusted look, which saddened Johnny. Lucien returned to normal form quickly however, responding with, “We help people get jobs done. We are slavers. Lee is your real name, my real name is Petrone, we are not related and if you were wondering, your job is to capture runaway slaves.” Johnny glanced room around, jerking his head as far as he could get it. The light bulb in the room gave off a red tint, a subtle shade of what could be described as pink, though clearly red. The walls were metal, silver looking and rusty, they looked worn down, but also strong. A large wooden table sat in the right side of the room, only an inch away from Johnny. On the table were many weapons, including a shotgun, several knifes and make-shift-bombs, yet most interesting of all was a shiny metal box of large size. On one side it appeared to have an engraving, reading, “Charles Lee, Slayer of Fiends” With that Johnny looked down towards his body, he could now see the chains covering him, they were metal and covered in dry blood. Johnny could now at least partially see what he looked like, he was surprised. He was clearly heavy set, yet not a man of just muscle or just fat, though the parts of his legs he could were almost all muscle. Perhaps he was once a fat man and had been starved to that point, he felt starved. Memories began to hit Johnny, starting with the phrase, “You should have killed him Johnny,” except with this time he could see what was vaguely a face saying the words and then what appeared to be the same person being dragged off, perhaps Lucien was evil. Yet, if Lucien was evil, did that make Johnny evil. Without time to think Johnny’s mind went to a different memory, though to call what he was experiencing a memory, would be incorrect. Nothing Johnny remembered was clearly his memory, if there was a face it wasn’t his, if there was voice it wasn’t his, and if there was an action, Johnny could be most certain that it wasn’t his. The next horror involved what appeared to be slaves, sickly thin green freaks, crawling around Johnny cursing his name, at least one of his names. They began to tie him to a chair with metal chains and it all became apparent that he was reliving his capture. Then a stupid thought came in mind, confirm the memory, make it true. “Was I capture, Lucien? Is that why I’m here,” Johnny started, before the phrase; ‘rebellion’ came into his mind with chants of war, “A slave rebellion?” Lucien smiled hearing the word ‘rebellion’ from the confused Johnny. “We’ll discuss the rebellion later, but first it might be best for you to be let go of your chains, Oscar come in here.” The name Oscar seemed very familiar; Johnny could almost imagine a face, a strong figure with muscles and a commanding presence. Yet Oscar was not the strong figure he had in mind, he was a little man with pale skin. However his skin in the current light gave off a green tint, and he was thin, but not just a normal thin a deadly thin, a malnourished thin. This Green Slave, Oscar, the first thing Johnny saw in perfect view was perhaps the ugliest thing he had ever seen. Not only in psychical appearance, but his clothing was also disgusting. The rags he wore were dirt; however the rags were also part of a suit. Oscar went straight to work on unchaining Johnny. The chains were easy to get off and within five minutes all the mighty chains were off. Yet Johnny was not happy, Oscar would glare at him, like Johnny had done something against Oscar. Perhaps the Green Slave was Johnny’s personal slave, perhaps Johnny had beaten the slave, and everything was unclear, very unclear. Johnny felt memories, memories of the two talking, he couldn’t anything though. Yet, that was only the first memory, in another memory he found himself being called Lord Lee.