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It was a tense day when the prisoner was first escorted out of his cell, and out of the prison that he had been imprisoned in for 5 years. Around the prisoner were a group of heavily armored men clutching onto heavy rifles as they scanned their surroundings tensely while escorting the man out. The prisoner himself was unshaven, dark hair and pale skin being all that could be seen of him as he was dressed in a garish orange prison overall, his face covered by a black blindfold and a mouthpiece to gag him. His hands were bound together by heavy manacles that were connected by a chain to his equally manacled feet, forcing him to walk in a slow shuffle. The prisoner was escorted towards a prison van and was shoved towards the back while his guards clipped his chains onto some rails. Once the guards were satisfied, they thumped once on the divider, indicating to the drivers that they were ready to move.
As the van moved, a simple query rose from one of the guards. “Hey, may I ask a question? What crime is this guy being jailed for, to the extent that he needs an armed guard and so many restrictions for moving?”
Another guard answered. “Well, Ben, this guy here is responsible for the murder of his lover, and causing an explosion large enough to kill another 17 innocent civilians. Simply put, he’s the reason behind the Old London Massacre.”
Ben gaped at this. “You mean, this guy is from that case from 10 years ago?!” Ben asked with a hushed voice. There were grim nods all around, and Ben was shocked. Everyone knew about that case, where in a quiet place of Old London, there had been a sudden explosion, and a man had been found in the ruins left behind, dazed and surrounded by bodies. An old sword had been found next to him, the blade itself wet with blood belonging to his lover, and fingerprints on the hilt belonging to the man himself. He was immediately convicted despite protests from his friends who claimed the man himself would never kill his lover. But the prisoner had not said a word in his defense and allowed the court to convict him to a life sentence. The only words he spoke was a warning that seemed to prophesize the beginning of the end of Old London.
“Glen has awoken once more. Be cautious, for the Demon shall bring about the end of the world.”
That simple warning was dismissed as the ramblings of a dead man walking at first, but it all changed 5 years later when Old London was converted into a dead zone in a single day, taken over by a man calling himself the Demon King, and surrounded by an army of monsters, guarded by seven Lieutenants that called themselves Knights. The dead zone was aptly named, for no electronics could survive the area for long, eventually dying and leaving people defenseless and with no communication to the outside world. Many armies had attempted to breach it, but with no success, as the dead zone simply shut down the electronics and left them defenseless to the monsters that populated the place. Any survivors from Old London immediately escaped and built a new home in an area eventually named New London. That was where the prisoner had been locked up for 10 years already, only to shift homes today.
Ben asked another question again, this time hesitant. “So why is he being moved?” Another guard answered. “Cos the prisoner was creeping out everyone in the old prison. Apparently no matter what the prison guards did or insulted him with, he remained a perfect gentleman. When they put him in isolation for a week, he came out requesting for a meal. Even when the prison gangs approached him, he just beat them all down and walked away without a single injury. Simply put, this guy is too dangerous, so we’re moving him to a high-security prison that he can be dumped in.” The guard explained. Ben nodded hesitantly. For a while, they rode in peace, not a word exchanged as they watched the prisoner warily.
The prisoner himself just sat in his seat, uncaring of their remarks about him. He knew his crimes, and he was willing to accept the blame for them. Then there was a sudden screech, and something large banged into the side of the van. The prisoner was the only one who stayed in his seat thanks to the chains binding him to the guard rails. Shouts were heard but were soon overwhelmed by the distinct sound of rapid gunfire. He heard the doors from his ride bang open, then booted feet thundered around him as his guards left the van to get to the intruders. But it seemed to be a fruitless effort, as screams were soon heard, then there was silence. The prisoner held his breath as slow footsteps were heard, then a female voice spoke. “Target secured! Orders?” Another voice responded, this time rougher and pitched lower.
“Grab the target and move him to our vehicle. We don’t have much time before the second convoy arrived and finds their people dead.” The voice ordered. A chorus of “Sir, yes Sir!” was heard and the prisoner was freed from the chains connecting him to the van. He was moved to another vehicle, this time onto a proper seat that was cushioned, and a voice asked, “Sir, do we free him now?”
The leader, for that, was who he could only be, answered, “No, not yet. Mom gave us clear orders to have him back at our base before we unbind him.” And with that, the new vehicle he was in moved. A few hours passed before the vehicle halted and the sounds of doors opening could be heard. Then beneath his feet, he could feel the vehicle jolting, the steadily dropping in what could only be a controlled descent. The descent only took a few minutes, then someone approached him. A pair of hands removed his gag first, leaving the prisoner to flex his jaw as he adjusted to being able to move his mouth. Next were his bindings, and he could hear them drop to the ground with a large ‘thunk’. With that done, all that was left was his blindfold, which was removed gently, leaving him to blink rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the low lights surrounding him after a long period of darkness. After his eyes had adjusted, he blinked once more before staring at his rescuer. Brilliant green eyes were what he noticed at first, then tanned skin and dark brown hair. His rescuer was dressed in army attire, and for a moment, the prisoner could only stare at the green eyes, knowing he had seen them before on a different face. “You are...” The prisoner asked hoarsely, his voice cracking from disuse. His rescuer stared at him coldly.
“I’m Gary Unwin,” his rescuer informed him. At the name, ‘Unwin', the prisoner couldn’t help but flinch a little.
“Why did you break me out of prison?” The prisoner asked softly.
Young Gary snorted. “Cos Mom told me to, and she and her friends believe you have been framed for the murder of my only family.” Even though the prisoner knew vaguely what Gary was talking about, he knew he had to affirm the information he received.
“What was I framed for then?” He queried.
“Well, for starters, my name is Gary Harrison Unwin, and I’m the son of Daisy Michelle Unwin. 10 years ago, you were convicted for killing my uncle Eggsy Unwin. But my mom says you didn’t do it, so I guess I have to find out the whole story from you, Mr Harry Hart.” Gary spat.
With a sigh, Harry just shrugged. “May I get a change of clothes first?” He inquired with a polite smile.