There was blood dripping from his brow, he noticed vaguely. The cut wasn't serious, but the sticky sensation across the left side of his face, where the dried blood was making it's decent, was rather unsettling. He was more immediately concerned with his ship, Revelry, and the fact that she was most likely being scrapped for parts at this very moment. It was a thought that made his blood run cold, and his heart clench with barely suppressed rage.
When they had been overtaken by four Federation vessels, he had known Revelry wasn't going to be as fortunate as her crew. He had gone along with their emergency plan, putting up just enough of a fight so that no one was suspicious. There had been no trial, no sentencing; his crew were sent off in one direction, while he was sent straight to Koyas, the closest prison. It wasn't a long journey; a few hours on the Fed ship, a few more in a submarine, and they arrived. It was an ingenious design; a state-of-the-art facility at the bottom of the ocean, bursting with the newest technology. Even on the rare occasion that an inmate escaped his cage, there was nowhere to go. But then, Nikolai had never seen a prison that could hold him.
Currently, he was lying on his side on the bottom bunk, wishing desperately that he could wipe the blood from his brow. His hands were fastened securely behind his back; a wise move, on the guard's part. They had noticed the faint scars on his wrists and temples, and realized what they meant. They would keep him bound like this for now, until they could schedule him to have his amps removed. The cell was small, three walls of solid metal and one of thick glass so that anyone in the viewing area could see him. The only way out was for the glass to be raised by pressing a button on the opposite side of the wall.
Captain Nikolai Dannis was a tall, broad man, with dark eyes and darker hair, cut close to his scalp. He wore leather pants and vest, his muscled body a canvas of tattoos from across the globe. He was young for a captain, due mostly to his father, Nate Dannis, and his reputation. It wasn't the best way to gain a ship, but as far as anyone knew, Nikolai and his father were one and the same. They respected him, and under his command there was always a steady flow of wealth, so it suited him well. At least, when he wasn't being held captive on a prison ship.
He heard footsteps coming towards the cell, but he didn't bother to look up. It was probably just another Fed officer coming to beat the shit out of him. It seemed to be a favorite pastime for the men, and who could blame them? There wasn't much to do on the bottom of the ocean. Using the captives as punching bags was probably the most fun they got to have.
But these footsteps sounded softer, almost hesitant, and it was enough to catch Nikolai's attention. He had taught himself to be able to recognize footsteps; one of his men, an assassin coming to his room late at night. These definitely weren't the harsh, stomping feet of a typical guard.
He shifted in his bunk, squinting towards the thick glass to see a young boy gazing back at him. He was a scrawny little thing, wearing an ill-fitting guard's uniform. He looked like a farm boy, all bright eyes and reddened cheeks, the picture of innocence. He had to be new to the prison; he couldn't have been older than nineteen. He was gazing back at Nikolai with a curious look that made it clear he had no knowledge of who the man was.
The boy pressed the intercom button, leaning toward the speaker. "Hello? Can I get you anything?" he asked, looking in at the prisoner on the bed. His voice was nervous, but with an oddly excited edge. "Your dinner's here, if you want it."
He was struck by how utterly innocent the guard looked; more like a boy than any of the men they had sent him in the past. It would be a welcome change from the constant beatings he had been subject to for the past six hours. In fact, as he sat up in his bunk to get a better look, he was fairly certain that the young guard wasn't the type to try and attack him. The pretty little thing looked barely old enough to be away from his mother.
He watched the boy intently for a moment, considering his options. He knew that he could easily overpower him, but where could he go from there? He was the only prisoner on this floor, and he knew that there were half a dozen guards keeping watch over every door leading to and from his cell. And even if he could break free of the cell and his bonds and incapacitate all of the guards, there was no way off the ship. He was trapped, and until someone showed up to rescue him, that wasn't going to change.
But, on the other hand...there were other things he could use the boy's naivety for besides his escape. His eyes slid down across the boy's body, and he was struck by how utterly soft the boy's skin was. He wondered what he looked like beneath his uniform. How easily that skin would bruise. And as his eyes trailed down the guard's body, his gaze caught on the small remote hanging from his hip. He knew what it was; a push of the button close enough to his handcuffs would unlock them and leave his hands free to do with as he pleased. He licked his lips, his body already responding to the thoughts filling his mind.
He shifted on the bed, dragging himself up onto his feet. It was difficult, but with a few awkward movements he managed to get into a standing position. He looked up at the boy and gave him his best broken, forced smile. "Yeah...I'm starving. I haven't eaten in days. And...maybe you could wipe the blood off my forehead?" He tugged uselessly at his handcuffs, closing his eyes in a pained expression and letting out a frustrated sigh. "Fuck...is there any way you could unlock these cuffs? There's no way I'm getting out of here...and my arms are cramped. You can even lock them again in front of me...so that I can eat?"
Nikolai waited as the boy seemed to consider the request. He was sure it wouldn't work; even if the boy was naΓ―ve, surely his superiors had warned him. The boy glanced around, searching for confirmation from a superior that had already departed, before his eyes returned to the prisoner. He hesitated, then gave a faint, friendly smile. "I suppose I can. Dunno how else you're supposed to eat..." He left for a moment to pick up the tray of food, before coming back and pressing the button to open the glass cell door. He walked in, and set the tray down on the prisoner's table. "Don't expect you to stick your face in the bowl like a dog."