'Where am I?'

A deep voice spoke from the shadows of what was presumed to be a prison cell. Whatever clothing the figure wore was worn and had tares running across it. This was an indication of violence having occurred prior to waking up in the cell, and it hurt too. Needless to say, a few grunts could be heard throughout the halls as the seven plus foot tall figure rolled off his bed. His fingers ran across the cold stone. There wasn't even dust he could feel with the tips of his fingers. The stone felt very old, not in the sense of moss growing - but in the sense of a lack of modern construction, like concrete.

Crawling to the light, his fingers found a cold rod of steel. They were bars, the man was caged by concrete and iron, the surrounding matched the description of a prison. The immediate question began to rise up, skeptical of the night before; had he been drinking? This had happened before, albeit the jail he was placed in at that time was much friendlier. After a few minutes of collecting his energy, he picked himself up and to stood up. This place seemed familiar, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

'Can anyone hear me!?'

Meekly the man spoke. Deprived of some of his senses, he tried to rid himself of the cuffs that chained his hands together. His sight wasn't clear, the black blindfold covered his vision - as light was the only thing he could notice. There was no light in his cell, he did notice a small draft. There probably was a window in his cell. This meant that it was night outside. The cuffs were made from a strong material, he couldn't make out what it was exactly. After struggling for some bit, he noticed that the middle portion that held the cuffs together wasn't as strong as the parts around his wrists. He used the sense of his touch to try and find a sharp rock in the cell, he did this by using his feet - or more precisely, his boots.

The sound of clacking heels could be heard throughout the first portion of the asylum. The holding cell the man was in was roughly in the center. Recollections of the previous night were still lost. As the footsteps began coming closer, Maarschalk begun trying to identify the gender of the person wearing the heels. Mens shoe wear usually have thicker, flatter heels whereas women have thin long needle-like heels. Listening closely would also give him an indication of the layout of the place, obviously he noticed that the footsteps were still far away. He stopped struggling with his cuffs and laid back on the ground, after letting out a short sigh. Since getting up was a struggle in itself. He rested his head on the cold stone and began listening more closely. Closing his eyes to focus, he heard a shriek. In what kind of place was he? Maybe he was being pranked. Though that thought escaped him quickly, this seemed pretty serious since he was hurt before he woke up. Did he time travel? Now that was an option he could believe, that the person with the heels was an archaeologist, researching the place and got spooked by something else that this person saw.

He listened closely again. The sound of the heels were sharp and quite loud, they didn't have much tremble. It also was from very far away, as the echo carried most of the noise. This was definitely the heel that females wore. If he was any better at this, he could determine her weight, length and some other details - like personality, by listening closely and listening to how she would walk and how she carries herself, swaying her hips or not swaying her hips. Unfortunately, he wasn't that good with his ears. The footsteps began coming closer, the man already had an idea of how the place was set up. He was on the second floor, out of perhaps maybe ten? It was unclear to him. Maarschalk got up again and sat in the center of the room, he figured that these footsteps were walking to him. It was too coincidental, right? Or maybe she had heard him prior, either way. She was close.

It wouldn't do him much sense to yell out for her, he would probably scare her. That was until he heard the voice speak out towards him. Which was unusual, curiosity? Was that the emotion that drove her towards him? There wasn't much he could say in this situation to redeem himself, this seemed like a prison and she was wandering about. Given the appearance of this place, there was no way she'd pull him out of there without thinking about it hard. Thus he had to come up with a scheme to sort of force her to help him get free - but how would he force someone to aid him when he's in a situation such as this? He had an idea.

'Why did you put me here?'

He said, conservatively. Making her seem like the guilty one would compel her to show the stranger who's accusing her of something she didn't do that she's innocent, right? At least, that's Maarschalks reasoning, he was quite smart - capable of manipulating people and wasn't afraid to be bold in situations such as these, bold enough to lie.

'What did you want to achieve by getting me here?'

Further enforcing the idea that she was the one responsible for this. While he spoke, he stood up, and tried peeking from between the cell bars. He couldn't directly see her, maybe she close but not in his line of sight. Accusing a person of a crime is a very strong thing. Getting out of this predicament was his top priority. Figuring out how and why he got came second.

His head had moved, the voice had responded to his inquiries. It wasn't what he expected, well -- the man tried his best expecting the unexpected. In this case, it wouldn't work out. The sound coming from the girl wasn't as stern as he expected. He expected something to the contrary of what was in this place. Which was somewhat fitting, given her soft voice. Though her ignorance also proved something he wasn't a fan of. This was ignorance in its prime. But, was she not as ignorant, would this be the mans final resting place? These ideas put the man in a spin as the girl was trying to find a way to release him into the world. He was in deep thought. Ignorance; the one attribute he hated so. Being melt into something he can come to terms with, should it benefit him.  The loud crash stopped him from zoning out further and questioning these things.

He figured that he got through the obstacle that was blocking her from entering the hallway. Good. The figure moved back to the bars of the cell, and tried sticking his out his head, but to no avail. He came to the conclusion that standing up would do him no good, a childhood of bullying made him learn better. Thus he slouched, and the upper part of his torso somehow leant forwards towards the bars of the prison. This made Maarschalk shorter than he actually is. He scanned the light for an absence of light, this concept sounds strange but he tried looking for a shadow. A thought had hit him, what if he was the one being ignorant? Troubled as the situation might have seemed, what if she had been a killer. Suddenly, the imaginary tables had turned against the mans inner discussion. He needed to stall for time. There was no way for him to do that though, at least, not without giving the girl some suspicions. She spoke, once more, this time quite close to him. Wanting to take his blindfold off. Should he completely trust this stranger with his life? It seemed like he had no other choice. He set one step forward but then stopped himself.

'Are you sure you want to save me?'

'What if I'm a criminal'

The man didn't know in what kind of place he was in, it could have been a regular old jail but it wasn't. It was a mental asylum, with a sort of similar set ups.  None if any criminals were ever sent here, not to mention it was completely abandoned. The fact that Maarschalk said that he could be a criminal further should further prove his innocence.

Then there was the issue of her, being here, coincidentally. He could easily perceive this as a trap being set up. She could be holding a knife so she could gut Maarschalk as fast as he put his face against the bars. Which he didn't do for this reason. It seemed quite strange, calling out her skepticism because he was skeptical himself.

'Why should I trust you anyway?'

'Isn't it coincidental, that you're here, in an abandoned prison, hmm?'

He said, the little light that shun into his prison revealed the slight smug smile that had appeared on his muck. Even though he was in chains, and had a blindfold around his head he was still this sassy. His tongue was as sharp as a sword. He began to think up a plan in order to subdue her, should he have the opportunity to, after being released of course.

Depending on her reaction, Maarschalk already would have started a series of actions. He started with his wrists, trying to rid himself off the cuffs that chained him. Though this had proven to be unsuccessful. He wasn't very stealthy in his attempt to, this could alarm the female.  

The man had found himself to be in a strange situation. Where he was, in a cell, arguing against his possible savior that he might be guilty, whilst the savior was trying to argue that he wasn't guilty. And she was right. Based on her ability to argue, Maarschalk thought highly of her intelligence. Not as high as his own, of course -- but compared to most others she blinked out on top. Their exchange of sassy and sarcastic remarks brought them nowhere. The man was still blindfolded and cuffed. As it had turned out, this was a madhouse. The idea in itself had proved to be a  dangerous thing. Doubting himself, maybe he snapped - maybe that's how he got here? It was Halloween, so he figured that he couldn't have been out for more than a night. An awkward silence followed from the figure after it had been revealed where he was, and when it was (Halloween). She mentioned the possibility of a real enemy, that's right, he couldn't have cuffed and blindfolded himself. A possible threat was certainly possible, one that he should avoid if possible. Though the multiple mentions of threat certainly didn't convince him more of her innocence. He had no other choice rather than to cave in and believe her. He moved to the bars of the cell and slightly bent forwards, his head almost resting against the bars.

'Very well, you have convinced a man in a madhouse that he is innocent.'

He jokingly said, the lack of light had done him no good. At this moment, it was the start of the night, and the stars had begun to shine. Alas, he couldn't perceive this because of a lack of a window in his cell. The reason why he held out his head so close to the bars was that so she could take the blindfold of, had she done so and given Maarschalk the ability to see, he'd continue with these actions. Blinking, that's the first thing he did - a lot of blinking, some of his vision was still a blur, colors were clear but most objects had a vague, Gaussian blur to them. First he looked down, letting his eyes adjust to the light. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to look at his possible captor or savior; black hair with a tint of blue and cherry red eyes is what he met. Certainly not short either. Her eyes were big, almost cartoon- big. In contrast, the man had dark-blue hair, similar to hers and teal colored eyes. He looked down on his clothes and noticed his missing cross, his religious necklace. He let out a subtle groan, not one that the woman could hear unless she was standing close. The asylum was pretty cold, the combination of autumn weather and the time of day certainly didn't make the asylum a comfortable place. He was still cuffed, though after having struggled against his cuffs during their entire conversation he had managed to loosen it to a breaking point. It didn't take much more strength to finally break it, the cuffs were still around his wrists but they didn't held his wrists together, or leave him chained in the cell. His gray shirt had a big flick of blood on it, already dried up. The tips of his fingers couldn't feel any open wound on his torso, nor did he feel a sensation of pain elsewhere. Looking back at the woman he noticed her odd uniform, while it wasn't very odd in normal daily activities, it was odd to wear such during a visit to the local asylum.

'So, what is your name?'

He begun asking, thinking of her as, 'the woman, the girl', or terms related begun becoming a bother - identifying her by her name would be a good start to getting out of here.

'My name Maarschalk Raion, most people around these parts refer to me by my last name. I'm quite an old man, you see.'

The self-deprecating humor would rarely if ever stop.  

After their introduction was presumed to be done; the man needed to figure out where he was and who placed him here. The man had begun to notice other sounds. Was it the creaking old asylum that made these sounds, or was it another source; a person? Or maybe another type of being.

His cell was still locked, he wondered if the girl had noticed the sounds as well. He intentionally didn't move and looked into firmly looked into her eyes to sort of signify that he had noticed. It wasn't a pass at her or anything.

As soon as the sound had stopped, he begun speaking again.

'Doesn't seem to me that we're alone here. Asking a person wearing heels to kick open a cell-door seems like a cruel thing to do, so I'd like to invite you to step back a bit.'

The tall male said, before getting into a position to kick open the cell door that contained him. Using a proper fighting-technique, he had motioned his body in a way to convert the most amount of energy from his body towards the cell door: and in doing so he broke the lock of the prison cell. That was proven to be a mistake, sure it was successful - that wasn't the issue, the issue was that it made a lot of noise. After having kicked open the cell door, Maarschalk got out of his cell. This was the first time he saw face to face with the lady without being behind bars.

She called herself by Alisa Vollan. Her first name wasn't too uncommon; it was her last name that he was thinking about - albeit considering his current situation he didn't give it as much thought as he usually does. Names are a very interesting thing to Maarschalk. He watched her say her name as well, knowing that some people of the 'higher' classes so to speak curtsy naturally upon introducing themselves. She didn't curtsy or anything like that upon the introduction of herself. Then later she confirmed his thoughts; the noises were real and not something he had made up in his mind. This introduced a certain sense of urgency and invoked primal fear for the unknown. The thing that had captured him was probably lurking this asylum, awoken by the sounds of Maarschalk and Alisa talking to each other, and then the jail cell being kicked open - resulting in a loud blast. The girl mentioned setting up a perimeter to ambush the enemy.

'Hrmm, truth be told - whatever thing got me here probably overpowered me in a fight, resulting in me waking up all fucked up and no recollection of what had happened. Are you certain that the two of us ambushing this enemy is a good idea?'

Maarschalk said. - maybe it would be best if they remained away from this enemy; safely escaping first and then figuring out the situation would be a good idea. Although a contingency plan should they fail in escaping this asylum should be discussed. Even though Maarschalk pretty much got out of his jail without the help of the girl; he wouldn't want a repeat - especially considering he'd have to hear her annoying voice in another cell the entire time.

'I think escaping should be our priority, worry about whatever is lurking the shadows around here next. That being said, we need to know what to do when or rather if we do encounter this mysterious being.'

Bringing his hand to his face, he scratched his nose. This was a telltale sign showing that Maarschalk was in thought - perhaps he wasn't even listening to anything she had to say. His mind was filled with small details about how he would handle a potential ambush, a last second strategic step for when they encounter the enemy, and a plan for when they know that the enemy is closing in. After figuring those things out, he spoke.

'Alright: if possible we should avoid the enemy at least until we're out of the asylum and can get someone else to assist us if possible. If we know that this enemy is closing in on us, I want you to hide. The enemy will try to strike me and the idea of you hiding will be foreign enough. This means that you can catch this being in a surprise, so I need you to do a fair bit: that being, that you strike down the foe or you distract him and allow me to do so.'

He explained, now that was just the plan for if they knew that the being was coming. There were still more ideas that Maarschalk had -- but there wasn't more time to talk about them. Whatever the girl would say in response, he already started to walk out of the hallway and begun trailing the path that she had followed to get to Maarschalk; it'd probably lead to the exit. Being as silent as he could, he didn't desire to attract the attention of the enemy already.

'Maybe it's wise to take off your heels from this point out,'

He'd whisper towards the lady, had she still followed him - the clickity clackity heels made the noise that Maarschalk already had detected from when she came in, the enemy would do just the same.  After a short pause, Maarschalk headed onto the lower levels. The stairs that he took to get to the lower levels had light shining upon it. From the moon, through a crack in the ceiling that went from the top floor all the way down to the lower levels. Whatever caused that crack was probably the end of this prison like asylum, since it was huge. Perhaps one of the old prisoners had caused it with monstrous power? It was unclear - Maarschalk was a stranger in this town.

Maarschalk continued to look for the exit - as he looked he noticed the sound again. This time, much closer. No more than thirty meters away, he guessed. His philosophy was to remain silent until the sound faded away into the distance, this would let him know that his position was a secret, but that was proven to be a flaw based on one thing and one thing only - the fact that he was standing very closely to the stairs. Even though the moonlight wouldn't reveal his position, the fact that Alisa took the main stairs to find Maarschalk probably means it's one of the closest routes to his cell. Which implies that the person that is in fact his captor is headed towards the cell. Any other person who isn't his captor wouldn't be looking for Maarschalk and thus would stay away from the staircase. Thus, he had guessed that if this person approached the stairs, it was his captor. Maarschalk was standing close to a wall, there wasn't any position to hide without making a copious amount of noise. That might have not been the case for Alisa however.

The person who was making the noise was starting to get closer to the staircase; this had to be his captor - the enemy. A flashlight shines from the bottom to the top of the staircase, one that his enemy was wielding. A few centimeters away from the light was Maarschalk, who still was hiding in the shadows. He used his hand to signal Alisa to hide, and stick to his original plan. That plan being that she hid until Maarschalk until he and his captor already were in an ensuing fight; in which case, she was to sneak up and deliver a full blow to his captor to down him or her.

'Show yourself.'

The voice spoke holding the light. It was a manly voice, judging from how high the flashlight was being held - this person was quite tall. At least, that's what Maarschalk presumed. It was a deep, dark voice, akin to his own. It was finally time to meet his captor face to face. The fighting music had already begun to play inside his mind as he prepared himself for the worst to come. Maarschalk assumed a fighting position before speaking, one like those who practice muay thai. There was no reason for Maarschalk to speak and give him the upper hand - he was in a pinch though, since the light was almost directly pointed at him. From his first step on wards his captor would immediately know his position - but this did give him the upper hand, in which he's already moving before his captor is. And that is what he did - in full burst Maarschalk hauled ass and moved towards his captor. In which response, his captor immediately pointed his flashlight at Maarschalk.

'What the fuck!'

Spoken by his tall captor - Maarschalk noticed the light distancing itself whilst he was moving towards it. Was he fleeing? Why would he? Did he notice Alisa's position, and did that cause his surprised reaction? He was fast, not as fast as Maarschalk but fast enough to get to full speed whilst Maarschalk was chasing him. Their initial distance covered the fact that his captor was slightly running backwards, then sideways and go to full speed akin to himself. Though that didn't last too long; Maarschalk lunged out towards his captor - his jump was powerful and had a lot of energy. This was caused by the fact that he compressed his knees first, made himself aerodynamic and then converted all the energy his knees had gathered by compressing which resulted in a long jump that conveyed a lot of power. Power enough to tackle his captor to the ground, resulting in a chaotic situation: his captor had dropped the flashlight to protect his face whilst Maarschalk and he started wrestling against each other. The flashlight rolled over from the ground and shun some light on his captor. It was a face that Maarschalk recognized; it was his own. He was his captor? The captor was him? The real or fake Maarschalk who was being beaten by the real or fake Maarschalk who was on top of him used both of his arms to launch Maarschalk off him - in a similar fashion as to how he was tackled; by compressing his elbows and then releasing them with both of his hands formed into a fist - the fists transferred their monstrous energy and made the previous jailed Maarschalk fall off him, onto the cold floor. Immediately, the Maarschalk who arrived at the asylum as the 'captor' backed away and spoke some more;

'So your trick is to copy your enemies’ appearance to confuse them? What a weird power'

The captor Maarschalk said. Gathering himself and standing up again, he regained the upper hand - but for how long? The mystery had remained; who was the real Maarschalk? The captor Maarschalk wore his regular formal clothing, and had his religious symbol of a cross around his neck. The jailed Maarschalk panted and then tried getting up, only showing his teeth as he was smiling - relying on Alisa to take down captor Maarschalk. He had caused a distraction big enough.

The footsteps were not heard by the Maarschalk who wore the cross. Whom at the time of the sneaking around was talking against the Maarschalk who was captured. The captured Maarschalk tried getting up, the blows delivered to his chest almost had him stunned. Moving was difficult, as was thinking properly. The cross wearing Maarschalk wasn't planning on letting him get up, but alas he was interrupted by the other being that stalked the shadows. This happened simultaneously with his elbow arching backwards, in preparation to strike the Maarschalk who tried getting up. This meant that his guard was almost completely dropped, which allowed the interruption to happen - and furthermore not minimizing damage by any percent.

The thunderous weather outside regularly caused a flash of light to reach the inside of the asylum, caused by natural lightning and its energy. Though also unfortunate for the cross wearing Maarschalk, he stood in a position that couldn't utilize this flash of light - considering the sneaking around that was done prior. Though what was noticeable, however, was that the jailed Maarschalk wore no shadow. He hadn't any, akin to a vampire. This could be related to his magic, or that he might be the doppelgänger.

The sound that the cross wearing Maarschalk made when the kick had connected to the spine was a one-in-only-sound that only those experiencing a sucker punch are aware of. As if he was put thousands of miles deep into the sea, and the pressure blew him up from the inside. It was something that described the agony as quick as it could as fast as it could. Somewhat understandable if perceived as distorted, other-worldly almost. An involuntary groan caused by the involuntary escape of air from his chest.

'Uhhggngghuhhu?!!!'

But then, ten times as fast.

Because of the forward moving initial motion prompted by the punch, the second sequence of actions originating from the women fell short. It allowed the cross wearing Maarschalk to defend the relevant body parts, and this was done by allowing his body to absorb the blow in order to move his body so his back wouldn't be facing her any longer. This happened after the kick had connected with his back, he motioned forward from the punch and the kick propelled him even further, having his body now almost turned sideways. This allowed him to see her almost obvious sequence of actions - because of the agony he was in, he couldn't think straight and deduct that she was a trained fighter. He was purely focusing on defending his body from any external threats. And purely instinctively he wound up defending his head with one arm, whilst his other arm was busy trying to soften the blow from falling because of the first kick. As this happened, a loud snap was easily hearable from the distance, jailed Maarschalk revealed his identity. Or rather, this time ' it ' wore Alisa's face - and body. Which gave a weird sight, considering the oversized clothes, but even that began to transform into what seemed to be Alisa's clothing as well. This being had perfected the appearance copy technique, nailing it down to the detail.

Because of the kick delivered to his spine, and the expected follow up, Maarschalk used the pointy end of his elbow to defend his head from any incoming kicks. A true fighter would cringe at the thought of delivering a kick by the shins, only to have the kick blocked by the pointy end of the elbow. It is literally career-ending, depending on how hard the kick was delivered. Not to mention the pain and the permanent psychological damage this type of block would induce. No matter what the result of the potential block is; Maarschalk, the real Maarschalk as it had been revealed would still be weary of the female who was unknown to him - even if he had noticed the doppelgänger changing forms - who’s to say that this person wasn't or isn't the companion or whatever of the doppelgänger? After allowing himself to drop to the ground, using his hand that he used to soften the landing to lower him further, he used the heel of his shoe to try and distance himself from the doppelganger and the female. Maybe she'd been had just like he was? And that's why the doppelgänger changed its face into hers. Was he to trust her with his life, moments after she kicked and almost shattered his spine?

Certain death was quite close to Maarschalk - he had guessed that he wouldn't make it out of here alive without the help of someone else. His fingertips began feeling numb from the left side of his body, this was the kick taking affect after the adrenaline had been gone.

Then, another snap of the fingers was heard, and the doppelgänger had seemingly disappeared. This led Maarschalk to deduct that it was using his spells; he had to trust her.

'She--he, it! Whatever the fuck is using my spells! It's using my invisible spell, cast away the shadows to see this beast!'

--inner dialogue-- or, you know, kill me.

The flashing lightning revealed the doppelgänger, moving towards Alisa - considering that Maarschalk knew the disadvantages of his spells, and his doppelgänger presumably didn't, he figured that he'd need to be smart with what he revealed to the female. As this happened, the true figure of the beast was revealed; along with its weakness: it's only capable of using 1 spell at the same time.

After Maarschalk had spoken, the flashing of light frequently made the evil doppelganger stick out. He used the timing of the lightning to calculate where the being was going. He judged the first two flashes and found out that the doppelganger was heading for the woman. This indicated that the doppelganger was not teamed up with the woman, further proving his cause and allowing himself to trust her some more. And that's what he did. They were fighting in a shallow puddle, this allowed the girl to see the doppelganger moving. Not Maarschalk though, since he was halfway bolted to the floor and away from this puddle. He used the palm of his hand to elevate himself some more, and prepare a counterattack. It was difficult to trust someone who just axe-heeled his spine - but that showed Maarschalks strong mental fortitude to be able to adapt to any situation. Maarschalk got up with great difficulty, but once he got up, he formed a fist and used his spell that makes him silent. As well as flexing his left arm - giving him the ability to fly. This took away the need to walk, and his (near)broken spine wouldn't affect him any longer. With his inferior speed, he flew towards the doppelganger, using the puddle that the girl had shifted herself towards. Using his aerodynamic speed, he flew behind the doppelganger and with the girl simultaneously making a move, he wrapped his arm around its neck and used a choke hold to snap its fat neck. Because of his superior strength, its neck and its spine were almost instantly severed. He then let go of the doppelganger, since he didn't cloak himself he was still visible to the girl.

'That was rude of you.'

He spoke in a brittle and harsh voice.

'I will not forget this.'

Were his last words spoken, before he continued the use of his levitation to fly towards the hole in the ceiling and flee the building. Whether he had made an enemy or a friend was unclear, the footprint that stamped his back was certainly a token of their meeting. His goal was towards somewhere safe first, then his destination was somewhere or someone that could fix his back.

--exit--