The Ever Busy Slave Market

[Magnum_UK]

By God's holy trousers...

It had been a long time indeed since he'd last heard an accent like that one. It sounded almost German; much like the lock he'd been trying to pick for the last few weeks. But it was more gruff; indicating perhaps southern parts of Germany or perhaps even Switzerland. He'd toured Europe when he was younger on some Chess Tournaments; and he'd heard accents like it before. But those had seemed to be years ago; almost an entire decade if he remembered correctly. But the accent was only one small part of the man's behavior. His shifting posture was nothing of substance, seeing as the dull emotion in his eyes didn't change from the mirth they seemed to display. The smile was a bit crooked, indicating an internal dialog that was probably less than flattering in regards to him. But he didn't really care; he'd been called unsavory things in the past, and he had managed to survive well enough.

"If you couldn't tell," he said, knowing his rather distinctive British accent came out at times, especially now that his voice was beginning to get back to him. "I'm staying 'orribly busy sitting here in this cage. Best thing for a "pretty little thing like me" to be doing, don't you think?" He laughed humorlessly to himself, biting at his toothpick and shaking his head, letting out a stiff sigh and setting his hands out on his knees. He cast the burly man outside his cage a calculating glance out of the corners of his gray eyes. "Or do you think of this this as as much of a bunch of nonsense as I do?"

He sighed to himself, running a hand through his unruly auburn hair, letting his gaze linger. He'd noted the man's furtive glances at the negligent guards. It had been driving him crazy; watching these lazy men keep him so easily captive for so long. He'd been brooding on it, stewing in it for weeks. He'd only managed to keep himself sane by drawing out his ideas in the dirt. He blinked for a moment. Speaking of... He tucked his foot back closer to him, drawing it purposefully through the dirt on which he had been drawing. Couldn't have any brutes getting a hold of his ideas now, could they?
Forgive me, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and so bloody mighty.

 

[Magnum_UK]

By God's holy trousers...

An irritated twitch tugged at his lips at the usage of the word "kid". He hadn't been called that in a very long time; and he wasn't sure if the reminiscence of it was charming or irksome. Irksome, more than anything, because being called kid when he was almost thirty years old was on the verge of being insulting. But he swallowed his pride, sighing stiffly and smiling a bit darkly. He glanced up at the man, a cold glance at the man's comment about him being the one in the cage. It was true; he was the one in the cage. But his mind had every potential to destroy the world, and everything in it. But, he found, as he looked away for a moment, that was a more humbling and sobering thought than it was an empowering one. Sighing, he let the emotion wash out of him before looking back at the man speaking to him.

There was no use for such petty things; they would only get in the way and drag him down.

"My name," he said, pausing for a moment as if trying to remember. Had that been taken from him as well? No, he still had that to himself. He still had his name; that was not something they could take away from him, no matter how hard they tried. He let his tweed jacket fall down around his shoulders, almost relishing in the feeling of the cold for a moment, unlike the days he'd been spending cowering from it. Now, it was almost refreshing, to let everything go.

"My name is Altair Moriarty."
Forgive me, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and so bloody mighty.

 

[Magnum_UK]

By God's holy trousers...

The young Moriarty did his best to smile at the man, feeling slightly better now that he'd let his emotions cease to bother him. It had been so long since he'd thought scientifically; it really had affected the way he handled things, but he knew that he could regain that distinctive mindset should he get work back. If anything, the other man's speech pattern was getting him distracted enough to be interested. He still couldn't quite place the origin, but knew that the other wasn't quite proficient in the pronunciation of certain English words. Not that he could blame the man; his name was rather odd to begin with.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you," he said quietly, folding his hands together and discreetly scuffing his feet against the floor one more time for good measure. He glanced over at one of the guards who had fallen asleep closer to some of the larger cages, and smirked a bit to himself. He kicked at one of the back corner bars in his cell, one that he knew to be loose enough to rattle loudly. It did, startling the guard from his mid-afternoon dozing. Glancing back up at Riley, he spoke again. "And you're very close. But it's pronounced like "All-tie-ear"."

When the guard stomped over, noting the interaction that was taking place between them, he remained demure, knowing that feigning innocence always irked the guards most. It was the most entertaining for him; though probably the most dangerous for his welfare. The guard barked at him, demanding to know what he'd been up to and what kind of trouble he'd been causing. He had just smiled back gingerly, knowing that saying anything would have done nothing to abate the dim guard's suspicions of him. He did have a bit of a reputation for being a trickster, after all.
Forgive me, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and so bloody mighty.

 

[Magnum_UK]

By God's holy trousers...

Altair listened carefully to the conversation, noting the rather venomous glance that the guard threw at him before going away. Apparently his reputation still held; he'd never been one to just sit down and take grits through the bars. And this was no different. He wouldn't waste any time he had; not even these few seconds. So in spite of being practically sure that the guard would like to wring his filthy little neck should he get the chance, that didn't mean he didn't use the distraction to his advantage.

Once the guard left, returning to do some rounds to check on the other items in the market, and as soon as Altair knew he was gone, he pulled the key card he'd snagged from the man's pocket out of his sleeve.

He glanced over to where Riley was standing, smiling at his attempt to pronounce his name correctly. It was really quite endearing, to have him even give a rip about how his name was pronounced. Again making sure that the guard was nowhere in sight, he peered up through the bars, nodding towards the electronic lock that sat barring his escape.

"Tell me, Riley, the lock on this door. On the outside there should be a few letters. Does it say "A-B-U-S" or "W-T-B"?"

Altair could only hope that his guess about the lock had been correct. If he was wrong, then in a matter of minutes the guard would be back looking for his key, and he would have no alibi whatsoever for having a key to a lock that was not his own.
Forgive me, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and so bloody mighty.

 

[Magnum_UK]

By God's holy trousers...

Altair's smile widened when Riley told him the letters. Those four little letters meant that he had indeed nabbed the correct key. He smirked to himself, listening intently as he reached through the bars, using his nimble long fingers to line up the key card and activate the more simple mechanisms the lock employed. He'd watched the guard toy with it a thousand times, and had memorized the sequence of buttons to press. When Riley spoke again, Altair chuckled to himself, looking back up at the other man. "Too sneaky indeed," he said, sliding the key into the lock.

When the small mechanism chimed, he knew that the initial coding has been sorted through. He smirked to himself, feeling around for a moment with slightly numb fingers for the keypad on the front. He glanced around, making sure that the guard still wasn't looking. When he successfully gleaned that he wasn't, he carefully punched in the coding. He'd listened to the chimes of each number every time the guard had been forced to unlock his cell, and knew exactly what number each individual pitch correlated to. Once the confirmation code had been entered, the small device beeped again, this time a little more loudly. But then it silenced, and the mechanism gave a heavy click, indicating the door had been unlocked.

Altair glanced up at Riley, fearful of what the man would do as he wedged the door open just far enough so that when the lock's bar did snap back into a locked position, it wouldn't re-lock while inside the door frame. "I'm not sure how much that surprise I gave you is going to help me now," he said, glancing back over to just see the guard on the other side of the market before glancing back at Riley. "But I'm afraid I can't miss an opportunity. Thanks for helping me get the key; maybe I'll be able to repay you for it in my next life."

With that, Altair bolted out of the small door, keeping his head low amongst the other caged slaves. It wasn't hard; considering he was barely a hair past 5'7" and pretty small for a man to begin with. But he kept on his toes, dodging to a sprint when he got the opportunity and managed to get out the door just as the alarm was raised at his absence. But he didn't stop running there; he wasn't going to let his freedom slip through his fingers again. He kept running, out through the snow and down streets he had no recognition of. But it didn't matter if he didn't know where he was; he would find out. So long as he kept his hide away from those damned Seekers that the market sent out and kept his nose clean from the government, he should be able to make it.

Hopefully. Especially if Riley, the poor man, didn't hold a grudge for opportunistic slaves.
Forgive me, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and so bloody mighty.

 

[Magnum_UK]

By God's holy trousers...

He picked up his pace when he heard the guards give chase, his heart thundering in his chest. Damn it all if he wasn't just the slightest bit malnourished. He probably shouldn't have been doing all of the running that he actually was, but the adrenaline coursing through his system told him to shut up and not care; he had running to do and guards to get away from. So, with those thoughts in mind, he had wholeheartedly not expected Riley to appear pretty much out of bloody blooming nowhere twenty feet in front of him.

He swore to himself, digging his heels into the pavement in an attempt to stop himself. The momentum he'd built up running wasn't put off much by his sudden change in direction, and he was almost sure he wasn't going to stop in time. But when his foot dug through the snow and hit a patch of ice, his feet completely went out from underneath him. He landed hard on the ground, gritting his teeth for a moment before slowly picking himself back up. Damn it all if he didn't screw up his leg; if he did he'd be right angry about it. His legs and how fast they could carry him were his only asset at this point, and if he didn't even have that, he'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

But at the moment, he had a more pertinent matter to attend to. Most notably, how the hell Riley had caught up with him so quickly. "Bloody bloomin' hell," he said through his panting, very much not liking the way his breath rattled in his own throat. Had he been getting ill and not even noticed? "Where did you come from?" He paused when Riley spoke, noticing immediately the change in the manner in which he spoke. His eyes narrowed a bit suspiciously, flinching when he heard the guards fast approaching. "If you couldn't already tell, I think I'm leaving. Regardless of whether or not your bloomin' accent's changed, and regardless of whether or not you're gonna try to let those guards catch me." With that, he brushed off a sore hip, and made to walk around Riley, realizing with a bit of dismay that he had gotten a bit banged up in his fall. But the pain wasn't enough to stop him from trying.
Forgive me, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and so bloody mighty.

 

[Magnum_UK]

By God's holy trousers...

Altair growled, making to move around the other man in spite of what he was saying. So what if he was going to fail? He was going to go down in one hell of a ball of fire, even if he did. Maybe he'd even get himself killed in the process if he was lucky. And, were his hip not aching something fierce, he would have quickly just gone under or around him. But as it stood, he was having trouble walking. "I don't give a damn," he snarled, his temper flaring as his body began to come down from the adrenaline rush, leaving him quaking and feeling strangely, emptily exhausted. He knew over exertion was most likely; but he forced his mind to work through it. "Even if I fail, I'll fight out here and die out here in the world like a person, rather than cooped up in some rat cage rotting to death."

When Riley made to block him again, he growled in his throat, coughing weakly and hating how pitiful he sounded. Even to his own ears. He tried to take a deeper breath in order to get some of his conviction back, but it only served to alert him to how stiff his chest was and how hard it was to breathe. "Since when did I become "dear" to you? Last I checked you were a bored, egotistical prig looking around a slave shop for some f--- toy who happened to be interested and vaguely helpful. Or did I miss something?" he snapped, desperate to get away while he still had the chance. He didn't want to fight, but he would. He didn't want to have to throw fists with the guards, but he would. And he didn't want to have to try to get around Riley if he had to, but he would if he had to.

{No worries, dearie. Just go to bed and we'll continue on whenever you're on the mend, okay?}
Forgive me, on account of me bein' so bleedin' high and so bloody mighty.