Worth Less Than a Fly

by nightshade745

Chapter 1: Hail to the King

Nash was a small man, a young man, a broken man. He was barely five foot and his skin was dry and dirty. He’d been in Soul-Shatter prison for almost a year now. He couldn’t bathe because the other prisoners scared him away from the bath. He couldn’t replace the potato sack rags he wore because he was afraid to go downstairs and ask for a new set or get his washed. He was the only innocent man in the prison, the only one who still claimed he was innocent anyway.

Soul-Shatter prison wasn’t named so because it broke men down and made them give up on life; it was called Soul-Shatter because of its execution method. Nash couldn’t help but think about the numerous times he’d seen it. The prisoners were paraded around the cell blocks to the center of the prison where there would be a great light show. The prisoners believed it wasn’t just the corpse that got complete and utterly disintegrated. It was believed that your very soul was incinerated, that there would be no afterlife for anyone condemned to die here.

Nash sat on the stone floor, his disgusting bed by his side. The cell was at most an eight foot cube. The ceiling was high for him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to Nash. There was no purpose to his life. Even though it was recess time and all the cell doors were open, he remained in his room. Very rarely did he leave his cell when it was an option. The human Nash was just too fragile and fearful to even approach the other inmates. Some of them were actual demons! Some were mere beasts. He almost wished today was his execution day. His beard itched, his joints were sore from sitting on the hard floor in the beetle position, and his rags scratched his skin.

“Only three days remain,” he whispered to himself in a dry cracked voice. No one would have guessed he was only 20, he looked more like he was in his 60’s! The wall behind him had the numerous tally marks he had scratched into its surface, counting down the days till it all ended. “I wonder what it’s like to die?” he mumbled to himself. Death compromised all of his thoughts for the past month. Until then, he’d been determined to live. But when another prisoner had reminded him that his sentence was set in stone back at the trial, he gave up. No one was coming to pull him from this prison, now or ever. He was going to die an innocent man.

He had no more tears to cry, no more pity to express for himself, he was dry. Waiting was all he could do now, until he heard the alarm. He lifted his head, something was happening. The prisoners were being forced back into their cells!? Nash crawled painfully along the floor to the bars of his cell and pulled himself up. A mass of living armor came and stood in front of his cell! Deep within the ash colored helmet, two red slit eyes looked back at him. The prison’s insignia, a green sphere, that represented a soul, with a red bone hand wrapped around it, which represented death, adorned its chest. The guard grabbed his cell door and slammed it closed.

Nash watched helplessly from his bottom floor cell as the whole prison was locked down. Prisoners on all five floors were shoved or dragged to their rooms. The prison was an X shape, with the center of the X being the execution circle where prisoners were evaporated from existence. The end of each arm led to the large court yard that surrounded the prison. The cafeteria, gym, laundry room, and baths were tucked neatly into the pockets created by the arms. Also at the end of each arm was a large digital clock, but it only displayed the time of day.

Nash was able to squeeze his head through the white bars and see the clock clearly, the time was wrong. Recess wasn’t supposed to end for hours. But there clearly wasn’t a riot either. There was only one explanation left, “fresh meat” as the others liked to say. After the mass of knights that towered at an intimidating eight feet had all the prisoners in their cells and locked up, they began to gather at the main gate. A massive steel wall was the entrance for new prisoners.

Nash was lucky that he was in the middle portion of A-Wing, where the entrance to the prison was. At the end of the hall, below the clock, the steel plates began to grind against each other as they were pulled apart. Dozens of the iron giants formed a line in front of it. Nash noticed the second type of guard coming down from the execution ring as well. The second guard type was still completely covered in armor, and there was still no way to tell them apart, but they weren’t as big around. The “Heavy Guards” were enormous around the chest, suggesting bulky muscle underneath. The “Tower Guards” were like twigs, looking fragile but graceful when they walked.

Tower Guards didn’t have feet, their legs ended in thin spikes that made a chime when they stepped; unlike the Heavy Guard’s massive bangs when they walked. The Tower Guards were also a much lighter color. The Heavy Guards were a dark ash color and the Tower Guards were a dull white. The Tower Guards did not have the prison insignia on their chests either, instead they wore a short white cape with the insignia. The two guard types were also the same height. The Tower Guards looked less threatening, but anyone would take a Heavy catching them breaking the rules over a Tower any day. Heavies would beat you with fists only. The Towers could use magic…powerful magic.

8 Tower Guards walked towards the main gate, which made it clear that the newest prisoner was something serious. The convicts were going crazy in their cells. There was chanting and screaming and cheers. They wanted to see who was so special that the Towers had to be there to escort him in. Nash could feel something in the air. This was no normal prisoner. Never were more than 4 Towers in a wing at a time. The prison had 25 Heavies, 4 Towers, and 1 Executioner per wing. Altogether, that was 100 Heavies, 16 Towers, 4 Executioners, and then the Warden. Nash tried to count the number of Heavies out there, but many of them were up on the higher floors so he couldn’t see them. Just as he suspected though, an Executioner came down the corridor next!

The sound volume plummeted as the most feared type of guard stomped his way down to the gate. Wide and fearful eyes were mixed with eyes of revolt and a need to stand out. A Heavy is big in a way that looks like muscle, an Executioner is big in a way that looks like fat. Standing at a terrifying 12 feet, there thick sandpaper rough armor was blood red. As though they had killed so many that their armor had been stained forever! The Executioners also had unique helmets. The twin horns that twisted around before jutting two feet ahead of him looked like they were made of ground up bones.

Their gauntlets glowed like burning embers and getting grabbed by one was a very heartwarming experience. In his right hand he clutched the end of a huge battle axe. The blade glowed like his gauntlets and the handle was made of the same blood red metal as his armor. The prison insignia was not colored on Executioners, but was instead engraved on their armor and seemed to endlessly burn. They’re footfalls were like mini-earthquakes and they always had their battleaxes with them, resting over their shoulders with their left hand free to swing as they walked.

It was common knowledge to keep your mouth shut around Executioners. As the name suggests, they were the ones that killed, and they enjoyed it as much as some of the prisoners. With eyes like fire and mouths that exhaled poisonous gasses, it never made sense to Nash why the others would taunt them. Executioners were free to kill you at any time, if you were on death row or not. The Towers and Heavies weren’t authorized to kill, so why not taunt them? The worst they can do is leave you with broken bones, bruises, and burns. Regardless of logic, the prisoners in the cell next door tried their luck.

They were human, like Nash, and they began calling the Executioner rather obscene names. Things your mother really wouldn’t want to hear you say. The Executioner didn’t seem like he was paying attention and looked like he was about to just walk by. Nash thought they had gotten extremely lucky today. He and the prisoners next door were on the Executioners left. The morons were in their cell sticking their arms through the bars waving at him. Nash turned his head, which was still out between the bars, to the right to look at them. They were so stupid in his opinion. The Executioner wasn’t in a good mood today at all it seemed either.

The Executioner came to an abrupt stop just outside their cell. He didn’t look at them, didn’t turn or flinch in any way. He just lifted his left hand so it pointed straight at them, and a volcanic sized stream of fire engulfed the entire cell! The inferno exploded out of his hand and incinerated the occupants of the cell with horrible wails of agony and terror echoing throughout the prison. Executioners usually looked at their victims or ripped them through the bars or something flashy. They at least reveled in the kill for a second or made it last a little bit, but not today. The Executioner made the kill fast, but painful, and immediately continued on his way. He never let his gaze leave the path straight ahead.

Nash could smell the horrible stench of death and charred flesh emanate from the cell next door. Death was common but he was never this close. He could only imagine what their chard remains must look like. From his slightly advantageous viewpoint, he could see the bars were red hot. Their deaths must have been excruciating. The stupid and daring never lasted long. Despite the horror that had just taken place, the prison began to get loud again. The death of an acquaintance had not deterred any of the hopeless cases on the higher floors, but the lowest level remained mostly silent.

The Executioner reached the great door and it began to open further. The volume erupted into great screams as everyone wanted to voice something to the arrival. The gates were fully open, a light shown from behind a tall figure in the doorway. Guards blocked his path to escape from once he came as a second door behind him just finished closing. The twin gates were so supposed to open one after the other, so the timing was off slightly today. The new arrival was still just a black smudge from the light coming in behind him as he stepped into the prison. The Executioner stood to his left, the grip on his axe tightening. The gate began to close, the bright light choked away.

Silence…

It was the quietest the prison had been since the day it was built. Hundreds of jaws dropped at the new inmate. Eyes were strained to confirm the thing that had graced their humble abode with its presence. Nash couldn’t believe who it was. He knew that this was the toughest prison in the world, but he never thought he would be…….honored to see him in his lifetime. The prisoner’s garb had a 9 digit number imprinted on it like everyone else’s. But unlike everyone else, he’d ripped off six of the numbers, just to convey a whole new message. ***6*66**

Shadaico Verransom Terror-Field…the greatest criminal legend to ever live! A jackal standing at an impressive 6’6” he had obsidian black fur and long pointed ears. His muzzle was long and his eyes deep and calm. His entire posture was relaxed and passive, as though he were the one in control. His face alone looked old and scarred with ancient battles. Nash couldn’t imagine how much combat he had seen altogether in his life. Nash’s eyes drifted over the legend of a beast and stopped at his arms. The jackal wore the potato sack like garb of all the prisoners, but he also wore the “Punishment Gauntlets”! Massive gold colored hunks of metal that completely entombed his hands, wrists, and almost all the way up to his elbows. Large inch thick screws were driven through the thick metal into his flesh underneath to keep them on. About 90% of the actual screws just jutted up out of the gauntlets where they could be seen clearly. The Punishment Gauntlets looked sloppily made, but they were just the opposite.

The Punishment Gauntlets were made of scrap metal, yes; but the massive number of enchantments and magic that was poured into them made them virtually indestructible and gave them a luscious gold color. The screws that drove through the gauntlets and into the flesh underneath had light green sparks dancing between them from the power they were charged with. The screws bound the gauntlets to one’s arms, caused severe pain, and sealed off magic. Anyone wearing the gauntlets must have been a magic user. The more magic the being had, the more screws it would take to fully seal him.

Although Shadaico walked tall and confidently past the guards, Nash knew he was in constant agony. He couldn’t use his hands because the gauntlets sealed his fingers in. As Shadaico was led closer, Nash gasped, he must have been extremely powerful with magic. Four, 3 inch thick, 2 foot long screws protruded from his back! To need the additional seals was unbelievable. Nash exhaled loudly as he shook his head. His eyes drifted down and again he was shocked. Shadaico also had Punishment Shin Guards, where even more screws were driven into his flesh!

How was Shadaico even walking?! He had dozens of inch thick screws driving into his arms and legs and massive screws that jutted high out of his back that were at least 3 inches thick each. Even the most powerful magic wielders would be helpless if even one of the massive screws on Shadaico’s back were in them, but all the seals combined? There was only one thing on Shadaico other then his prison garb that wasn't a magic seal, a platinum chain that wrapped around his neck. Nash was pretty sure it also sealed magic based on its unnatural blue sheen, but he wasn't sure.

As Shadaico was led down the corridors, silence followed. No one said a word. Some prisoners bowed their heads as he passed, some pressed their hands together as though praying, some went so far as to look away like they ashamed him. The guards were baffled by this. No honor among criminals was nonsense. Today, the single greatest monster to ever live glided down the halls like he owned the place. As far as the prisoners knew, he did. He had a thousand names and was a living legend for crying out loud. The jackal was evil and evil was him. One famous thing that was often said about him was; “if the devil wants to destroy the world, he’s got to ask Shadaico for permission first!”

As was customary before a prisoner did anything else, he was paraded down every hall; a kind of tour and a way to show him off to the other inmates. Silence followed him everywhere he went. Even in his captured and helpless state, he was viewed as royalty to the condemned. Some of the guards secretly enjoyed the quiet he caused by simply being here. Others were disturbed by it. There was no such thing as quiet here. It was a new alien thing to them, to hear every footstep and the rushing of the wind outside.

The parade ended after almost an hour. It was time to find Shadaico his cell. The Warden appeared to personally see to it he got the perfect spot. The Warden was about the size and build of one of the Heavy Guards, but he didn’t need armor to get that look. He wore a purple robe that dragged along the ground overtop of some thin pointless royal armor. It was like tin foil with some pizazz colors, very showy. He had the head of a lion and a Giant's Knife on his back, a type of massive sword that required impossible strength and skill to use.

“So…Shadaico. Where should we put you?” he asked sarcastically as he thumbed through a clipboard. He seemed happy.

The Executioner from before leaned over, “cell 0027 is now empty, sir.” He informed him of the untimely deaths of Nash’s two neighbors.

“Is that so? Hmm.” The Warden marked the cell as vacant now. He continued to page through the cells thinking very hard. “I don’t want you to get lonely in your short stay here, but I can’t put you with someone who might….help you,” his voice was venomous as he peeked up at Shadaico, who was standing there patiently.

Murmuring began to resonate across cells as various dreams seemed to blossom. Everyone wanted him in their cell, then they could brag about having been so close to him. Nash only hoped he would be in a nearby cell so he could see him. To gaze upon the King without the fear of dying by his hand was enough excitement for him.

“Perfect!” the Warden suddenly announced. All eyes were on him as he stood in the execution circle with Shadaico. “Your death is in three days. So I’ll pair you with another prisoner whose execution is in three days!” Nash must have gone pale and his heart began to stall.

Shadaico was led down A-Wing by the Warden and an Executioner. Behind them were numerous Towers and Heavies. They were approaching Nash’s cell. Inmates in the adjacent cells could only gawk at what had just happened. They couldn’t believe what blasphemous and disgraceful thing the Warden was doing. He was shoving Shadaico in a cell with Nash! Nash backed away from the bars and pressed himself against the back wall. The Warden and Shadaico stopped in front of his little slice of heaven. Nash had always been secretly grateful to the Warden for giving him his own cell, but now not so much.

Nash, the biggest wimp in the prison was going to share a cell with Shadaico, the greatest and most respected master of the dark arts to ever walk the halls of Soul-Shatter prison…