The Prison

[Ander]

“You seriously expect me to accept that?”

“No, but… I’m asking you to…”

Ander studied her face for a moment as he considered those words, seeing her weak attempt at a smile. She wasn’t telling him to drop it, she was asking him, seeking permission, not giving an order.

You’re starting to trust me, aren’t you? Ander realized rhetorically. He didn’t even have to get her drunk this time for the truths to come tumbling out from behind the slowly forming cracks in the thick walls with which she surrounded herself. Once he had trust, he might as well have had a skeleton key to every lock she created against the outside world, and there was nothing he couldn’t do with it. Congratulations; he’d broken an emotionally unstable girl. No matter how pathetic and immoral the achievement, it only furthered his desire for control over the situation, to fill his own head with a sense of superiority and self-security. The more he knew, the more material he had to use against her, and if it came down to it, she’d be unarmed, unable to fight back, because she knew nothing about him. The thief crept closer and closer to the truth, and each forward step only spurred him with more persistence to finally figure this girl out, and perhaps in the process, achieve some kind of personal absolution. She was falling under his thumb and she didn’t even know it. If anything else, it was good practice for the other targets he had set his sights on after he finished with Sage. He had taken to the sadistic art of manipulation all too well.

All Ander had to do was remain detached, keep a separation between personal and professional. She wasn’t his friend; she would be a means to an end, and nothing more. After all, he didn’t need anybody; he was better off alone… right?

Direct questions eventually de-railed an acceptable line of inquiry into her discomfort of further disclosure, but the thief was so tantalizingly close to another secret, he could taste it, and curiosity was not so easily quelled. He changed tactics, abandoning a frontal assault, deciding to appeal to another more tactical angle.

“I bet that’s probably exhausting,” he finally said.

“What is?” she asked.

“Carrying something like that around,” Ander shrugged. “If it’s so dangerous and affects your future, I can’t imagine what it’s like to deal with that alone.”

“But I don’t,” Sage pointed out. “I have my sister.”

Ander had anticipated that counterargument, and easily sidestepped it. “Yeah, but is she here with you, helping you through it? Is she here to talk to you about it?” Classic divide and conquer: sever the tie and put yourself in its place. “Sounds to me like she’s too busy with her problems.”

“That’s not true,” Sage insisted. “She… she helped me a lot, more than anybody else. She- she’s the closest person I have in the entire world.”

The thief quickly abandoned that position, probing for another soft spot along the same vein to inject himself. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be so much easier to deal with it if you didn’t have to keep it bottled up all the time? If you didn’t have to… walk around on eggshells, afraid you’re going to slip up at any second. That kind of stuff, it weighs you down.”

The girl looked down, silently contemplating his completely valid point. He leaned his head beneath hers, trying to catch and hold the cryomancer’s gaze. Eye contact was important in maintaining a connection. Before she could avert her line of sight again, he put on his most sincere face.

“I’m only trying to help you, Sage,” he lied softly.

Silence.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” That much was true; why give away your leverage?

She was on the verge of breaking; he could just feel it. Just a little more…

“I…” she started. And then she shut him down, squeezing her eyes closed to avoid his calm yet insistent expression. “I can’t. P-please try to understand.”

He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought perhaps some kind of pain was palpable on her face. She huddled within herself so tightly. For some odd reason, it reminded him of when he sat in the Anati prison, in the exact same position before he’d finally broken.

“Let me go. Just let me go. I won’t help you… I can’t help you… I have nothing to offer you.”

He hadn’t known it at the time, but his whole life changed on that day. If Judas had just left, just walked away, left him with his humanity, maybe he would be a different person than what he was, and maybe none of this would have happened. And maybe it was the same situation now, only this time Ander was on the other side. Some shred of his conscience spoke faintly, breaking through the self-imposed layers of unsavory permeation, telling him to give her the chance that he never had. Whatever dangers she faced, his interference would only make it worse. In one brief moment of guilt, he allowed his buried better half to shine through. The nomad placed a hand on her shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. The blue-haired hybrid looked up at him, a friendly smile on his face.

“It was nice seeing you again, Sage,” he said. With that, he stood up, brushed himself off, and turned around to go, raising a hand in a brief and casual gesture of good-bye as he started to walk away. In an attempt to make the parting a little more amicable, he added in passing, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. Thanks for everything. Have a nice life.”

She stared after him, completely surprised by the sudden and uncharacteristic move and somewhat in disbelief that he was actually leaving. By the phrasing of his parting words, it didn’t sound like he’d be coming back.

Ander kept walking, his steps measured as he approached the corner, knowing that he needed to do this now, in this very second, or his resolve would crumble and he’d revert. And then he heard her voice, and he froze in his tracks.

“Wait!”

His final sentiments must have made her feel guilty, which, ironically, had not been his intention this time.

If you know what’s good for you, you won’t finish that thought… he internally pleaded.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I’m not upset, I’m trying to give you an out, and you’re not taking it. This isn’t going to last forever, Ander thought. He said nothing, keeping his back turned. Just say goodbye.

“I-I…” A pause, and then it finally spilled into the open. “I-I’m a… I’m saiyan royalty, okay?”

Ander arched a brow, and twisted his torso to face her. He considered the ludicrous nature of the statement, and her absolute seriousness almost fooled him for a second into believing such an obvious falsehood. He smiled wryly. “You know, uh, I get it. You don’t want to tell me. You didn’t have to make that up. Like I said, you’re a horrible liar.”

Her face fell, in disappointment at his entirely predictable reaction. “I-I’m n-not lying.”

The thief fully turned around, folding his arms over his chest. “Okay, I’ll play along for a second. If you’re saiyan royalty, what exactly is your title?”

“I’m a princess.”

“Uh-huh. A princess,” Ander repeated cynically. He chuckled, and performed a mock bow. “Well, Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to be in your royal presence.”

Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and perhaps a little indignation at not being taken seriously. “D-don’t make fun of me.”

Ander laughed, walking back over. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m just a little bit skeptical. I mean, do you have any proof?”

“M-my mother is the king there, King Bra. W-what more proof do I need?” she asked, beginning to regret her decision to tell him.

“Okay, I’m going to pretend for a second that you didn’t use ‘king’ and ‘mother’ in the same context,” the thief began. He recollected back to his days of study, trying to summon up the facts from his galactic history courses. “First of all, the current government of the saiyans is the Vegeta Dynasty, and its most recent monarch is Prince Vegeta. I don’t recall any women rulers in the line, sooo, your mother can’t be sitting on the throne.”

“My mother challenged him to the throne and won,” Sage explained simply. “S-she hasn’t been in power very long at this point… I think.”

Ander shrugged, slowly working through his available facts of history. It had been quite a few years – seven, to be exact – since he had studied about outside cultures, leaving a little room for potential error, but most certainly not enough to accommodate her outrageous declaration. “All right, let’s say I buy that. If I remember correctly, Prince Vegeta is the only son of King Vegeta Ou, and Prince Vegeta only fathered two children, Prince Trunks, and Princess Bra. You look like you’re pretty much around my age, so for your claim to be correct, Princess Bra would have to be two or three times as old as what she is now. She’s like, what, twelve? Maybe a little older; I’d say no more than sixteen or so.”

Sage clammed up at that, not daring to refute his logic or risk revealing more than she intended. He was wrong on a couple of counts, namely Bra’s history, but she wasn’t about to call him out on it at this point. Instead, she sunk further and further into her knees, withdrawing.

“I believe you that you’re a saiyan. Not pureblooded, of course, but, y’know, part-saiyan,” the thief continued. He chuckled again, another fact popping into his brain. “Actually, that part’s kinda funny. Prince Vegeta pulled a serious faux pas in saiyan culture and went and married some human, diluting the bloodline.” Ander glanced skyward, trying to remember the exact details. “Oh god, who was it again? I think it was that one woman… uh… the head of Capsule Corporation! Yeah, that’s it. Something… Briefs. Bloomer Briefs? Aw, I don’t remember. She’s from…” He stopped, his face going blank as two puzzle pieces haphazardly joined together to eerily form a cohesive element in Sage’s story. “…West City.”

Sage felt his eyes upon her, and she hesitantly moved her own to meet his.

“Saiyan Royal Academy… and you said your family was in West City,” he stated quietly. “You were drunk… you couldn’t have been lying. You’re… telling me the truth, aren’t you?”

Sage nodded, swallowing.

“But there’s still something missing, something that you’re leaving out that makes the whole picture make sense,” Ander continued. He stared hard. “What are you not telling me?”