The Prison

[Ander]

Ander Valis lay unmoving, sprawled in the middle of some desolate wasteland. His body spread flat on his stomach, arms and legs askew in random positions, face half buried and smashed into the sand, almost as if the thief had been carelessly thrown onto the ground from some great height. To any observer, casual or even close, he was just another dead man who had succumbed to the elements or some other unfortunate demise. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have been. And then, almost as if to retain the interest of anyone who might have cared, one of his eyebrows twitched slightly. This action could have easily been dismissed by the phenomenon of random muscle spasms postmortem on a cadaver as rigor mortis sets in… that is, of course, had it not been for the second set of twitches, that of his entire face as it puckered tightly in dazed discomfort. Ander opened his eyes, blinding sunlight flooding them instantly. His senses gradually returned, and beneath his hands he felt a grainy, dirty texture. His fingers clutched loosely, the material unmistakable at his touch and he drew it into his palm: sand.

A desert… he was in… a desert…

Am I… home? he found himself thinking.

But no… it couldn’t have been. It didn’t feel right, didn’t smell right. This was not Anati land. Yet, the black-haired bandit didn’t find himself either in the odd maze of colored ghosts, or the vibrant and familiar surroundings of the theme park. Even though the dull fog had not yet lifted from his consciousness, process of elimination only left one possible solution: Ander had landed in the “bonus round” of which Mixie had informed him. His train of thought continued to barrel down that unpleasant set of tracks until it crashed into a wall at the end of the tunnel: he’d lost.

The thief stood up, shakily at first until he got his bearings. He looked around, seeing miles upon miles of empty desert in one direction, and a shoddy little town of shanties in another. Ander placed his hands on his hips, taking in his new environment.

And then he laughed.

It started out as a low chuckle, and then it rose in volume and intensity until his whole frame shook with it. He didn’t know why he laughed; there was no reason to, and the situation really wasn’t funny at all. Maybe it was because he caught a bullet, placing number one in his first three events, and then suddenly losing and ruining his perfect streak. Then again, losing was an old acquaintance of his. Maybe it was because he’d survived a fight for his life against a ruthlessly strong madman, a completely embarrassing play, and a deadly shootout in space, and then gotten knocked out by some cereal box character wannabe. It wasn’t exactly a manly or valiant end… especially having been clad in yellow spandex. Maybe it was because he had pursued Ashe so relentlessly, and when she had finally become of any use to him and he deemed her no threat, he’d run off and made some stupid mistake and blown the whole plan. She’d also wounded his pride to boot with nothing more than simple words. Or maybe, it was because none of this had ever made any sense to him whatsoever, not since the fateful robot that captured him first showed up in the middle of that goddamned freeway.

His howling slowly died down until the last few chortles escaped his lips. Then he held up his palms and shrugged.

“Oh well. What are you gonna do about it?” he said to no one in particular. As humiliating and annoying as his situation was, he couldn’t exactly sit here and cry about it; he had no one to blame but himself. Besides, as Ander looked around, a familiar wave of nostalgia washed over him. The dune dweller closed his eyes with a smile, and deeply breathed in the dry, dead air of the desert, loving every last sensation of it. He spread his arms wide and lifted his face towards the warm yellow sun, taking the environment all in. No words adequately described the feeling of belonging, the personal rejuvenation of once again falling into his element. It was as if the burning hot rays replenished the depleted energy from his dismal failure, like he was some kind of super man.

He sighed blissfully, and pulled out a pair of familiar pieces of cloth. He tied his hair back into a ball, and then covered his head and face with his mask, more for protection than concealment of identity. In a sunnier disposition than he probably had any right to be, he turned around and started to strut towards the town, looking for his next opportunity, or at least the nearest sucker. As for Ashe, well, maybe he’d see her again and maybe he wouldn’t, but she had been fun to hang around with while it lasted… as long as it never again involved a rap battle.

Ander heard a strange sound off to his left, and he craned his head to watch as a large, lemon-colored bird dragged a rickety wooden carriage towards him. The carriage stopped directly in front of him, its driver clothed completely in black with a wide-brimmed hat obscuring his features in shadow.

“Wanna ride?” he asked. It was simple, direct, and to the point.

Ander’s brilliant blue eyes roved over the archaic vehicle. The bird, something of a strange cross between an ostrich and a chicken, nipped mindlessly at its feathers, every so often muttering a noise that sounded something like “kweh.” The thief ultimately decided against the offer.

“No thanks,” the nomad replied with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, the driver tugged at the reigns, and the giant bird dragged the carriage along in a perfectly straight line until they were out of sight.

Weird.

The thief strolled up to the outskirts of the ghost-like town, seeing a dusty old sign as he trawled along the path that read: ‘Prison.’ How quaint. He passed by quite a few unconscious bodies, presumably the lowest ranked in their respective games as well. He lingered only long enough to either affirm or deny familiarity with their identities, and moved on his way. None of them had protective coverings, exposing them to the harsh and unforgiving rays of the sun. He almost wanted to shake his head at their tourist status in this desert paradise. The first face that actually had any meaning belonged to someone he’d only met in passing, but his sharp memory recalled her name easily: Piper. Or, as Ashe had referred to her, “General Stuffypants.” Piper didn’t seem to be in a good mood as she skulked about with an angry scowl plastered on her face. Ander briefly flirted with the idea of approaching her, and then dismissed the idea just as quickly. Timing was everything, and the timing for Piper seemed a little too far out of the window of opportunity. She noticed him walking by, her eyes betraying a deep-seated frustration. Before he could quell the impulse, the masked thief gave a two-fingered salute.

“At ease, Captain!” he called over in a humorous tone, not bothering to stop. Piper was not amused. Ander kept walking.

That’s too bad. I’ll have to check back later.

Ander passed by the one he recognized as Alexander Trafford from his Space Battles event, the one who hadn’t been feeling so good back at the carnival before the Pac-Man episode. He was still unconscious, and Ander wasn’t exactly the Good Samaritan to revive the firearms expert. He kept walking.

Finally, the thief happened upon a large house, the design of which starkly contrasted with the dilapidated construction of the others. The former athlete felt an itch in his fingers, the kind of tingle that just screamed at him to go inside and take something. Of course, something about the mansion had “TRAP” painted all over it in big red letters, but so far it seemed like Ander’s only good lead in this place. After all, just because he lost didn’t mean he was quite out of this situation yet. The blue-eyed bandit checked around, making sure nobody was watching him. He picked his way across the perimeter, selecting a location that would grant him positions of concealment. The thief placed both hands to the wall, ignoring the burning temperature of the surface. As far as Ander was concerned, the temperature was perfect; he hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long time. The nomad applied his energy and started crawling up the wall like a sinister little arachnid. He didn’t have to go very far, as the first window he peeked into confirmed the location of its current occupants. He jerked back immediately, and then slowly but surely craned his head to get a second look.

He spied a Keebler elf, some unknown woman, a blond girl he didn’t recognize, a guy with black hair with his back turned to the window, and a girl with blue hair…

So this is where you’ve been hiding, Ander grinned. There was no mistaking it; he’d finally found the elusive Sage.

Upon further inspection, he audibly recognized the man as Juno, who sounded like he was regaling the audience with details from his Kill Town adventures. Ander rolled his eyes; this kid was doing it wrong… he needed to embellish more if he was going to talk himself up. The elf and the woman listened intently, the blond girl (whose features were oddly similar to Sage’s) didn’t look at all interested and was more than likely in a foul mood, and Sage seemed forlorn and depressed over something as usual. Sage tried to remain focused on Juno’s stories, yet her coral eyes occasionally wandered. Eventually, they found their way to the window, and were about to move on before the ice maiden did a double take. Ander waved silently, his eyes crinkled at the corners from his smug little grin that was invisible behind his cloth veil. Her face betrayed surprise and confusion, something that did not go unnoticed by Juno, and he stopped his enthusiastic monologue to turn around and see what had caught her attention. He stared at the window, seeing nothing but sunny skies. He turned back.

“You okay, Sage?” the saiyan asked.

“F-fine…” she murmured, still looking where the thief had disappeared.

Ander suppressed a laugh. But, as much fun as it was to mess with these people, and as much as he had unfinished business with Sage, that was going to have to wait. He didn’t feel like being part of the crowd at the moment, and would have to bide his time until the right moment presented itself. He pushed away from the wall and gracefully back-flipped onto the ground, just in time to spy somebody else approaching the mansion from farther off. He crouched low, scuttling along the side of the wall. She had long blond hair and a fairly flattering outfit. If not for his stalker status, Ander might have let out a wolf whistle.

Nice legs, he couldn’t help but notice.

She seemed somehow familiar, and he couldn’t really place her. His mind reeled over it, hoping to fish out a correlating memory. And then, something clicked into place. The hair and the clothes were different, but the face was unmistakable. This girl was Sophia, the last one from the picture of the happy quartet he’d inspected. It must have been an old picture, because she had changed quite a bit from it in comparison to the others. Then his mind wandered to another possible prospect, and he thought it somewhat funny that all four of them – Sage, Kaden, Ashe, and Sophia – had wound up in Kill Town. As a matter of fact, almost everyone he’d seen here were connected some way or another, and most of them had been introduced to him through Kaden.

Geez, how many people here know Kaden anyway? he grumbled.

Then he stopped.

…Kaden…

His eyes flickered back and forth wildly, a conclusion rapidly formulating in his brain from fragmented pieces of circumstantial evidence. The thief’s eyes darkened as his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

It’s…it’s HIM! He’s the reason I’m here! Nobody should even know about me unless they’re part of the Anati… I’ve spent most of my life hidden away in a desert. And the second I meet this guy, everything starts going wrong for me. The dragon balls… and now this… I got stuck in here because they think I’m associated with him! It just doesn’t make sense otherwise, why anyone would pick me to play this game. I didn’t start meeting anyone else here until after I was already abducted.

Ander clenched his hands into fists, absolutely sure he was correct. Then, a slow and somewhat malevolent smirk crept along his features.

Well, no worries, I’ll just return the favor. I’ll make friends with all of your friends, and then I’ll drive you insane. I’ll figure out exactly how to show you for what you really are, and then I’ll take what matters most. You’re going to wish you never messed with me. After all, I already know some of the people who are closest to you.

The thief’s glittering blue eyes laid squarely on Sophia.

And you’re next. You’re going to help me do it.

He hastily ripped off his mask and pulled his hair loose, combing through the strands with his fingers to make himself look as presentable as possible. He checked his breath and his armpits, and while he wasn’t in the most desirable state of attraction, it was going to have to do. He recalled Sage describing Sophia as “Kaden’s friend,” so she was as good as any place to start. The dune dweller stepped out from his hiding place, pretending to look lost.

“Oh, uh, hi there!” he called over. She turned her head.

“Um, hello,” she responded, somewhat uncertainly.

Hook.

Ander chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Hey, I uh, I don’t really know where I am or what I’m doing here. You’re actually the first person I’ve seen around here. This, uh, this isn’t easy for me to ask, but um, do you think you can help me out a little bit?” He played his ‘lost puppy’ act to perfection.

Line.

Sophia looked at him, as if unsure of what to make of him. “I was just about to check inside, actually, and figure out the same thing for myself. I guess we can both go in at the same time.”

Ander breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh man, that’d be great. I’d really, really appreciate it. Thank you so much.” He got a little closer, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Ander, by the way. And your name is?”

The blond took his hand and shook it with a friendly demeanor. “Sophia.”

Ander grinned, showing two perfect rows of pearly whites. He withdrew his hand and performed a gentlemanly bow. “Charmed.”

Sinker.