Ravendawn, Gonetanamo Bay
Gonetanamo Bay is a joint Murican–Ravendawn prison facility for war prisoners. Officially, it exists for secure containment. Unofficially, it exists so BICH can conduct interrogations in peace, far away from public opinion and curious claws.
Previously, when similar camps were located inside Murica, the screaming and the scent of blood tended to attract demonic beasts from nearby wilderness. On top of that, nearby Murican towns filed constant noise complaints. The demons living there did not object to the existence of torture facilities on moral grounds. They objected to not being invited to participate.
Relocation solved everything.
Inside an interrogation room, Janet stands before a large glass panel. Behind it, in the adjacent chamber, one-handed Alan Ridgewood is strapped to a chair. He is bloodied, beaten, barely breathing. A hood covers his head. The room is quiet now.
Janet watches him while holding a phone to her ear.
"Well, that's fast, it's only been a couple of days. Aren't assassins supposedly trained for torture and interrogations?" Megan's voice says from the other end.
"Well, this time the old man personally handled the interrogation," Janet replies.
"Gee, he really needed to vent, didn't he? So, is that guy the one who did the ship bombing?" Megan asks.
"Nope, he's not. His guild was only hired for surveillance and prevention if we got too close to getting the truth," Janet says.
"Who hired him?"
"His client is a merchant named Marco, specialized in merchandise like weapons, armor, and mercenaries."
"Hmm, what do local arm dealers gain by bombing the Murican-Dwargonian diplomacy? Neither of us would need to buy some local weapons if we went to war," Megan says.
"Yeah, that's something that our friend here doesn't know also," Janet replies, glancing at the motionless prisoner.
"So where is this Marco dude?"
"Where his customers are. Vandoria."
"I see. I guess that's where I need to go then."
"Where are you now anyway?" Janet asks.
---
Dawn Castle, Dining Room
Megan is wearing a beautiful princess gown, complete with jewelry chosen to match the image of someone who has never committed a felony.
Behind her sits Luxius at a long dining table covered in luxurious dishes. He smiles patiently at Megan, hands folded, waiting for her to finish her call.
On the wall behind him hangs a large family portrait: a young Luxius, the previous King Luxtor, and Luxius's mother. The resemblance between the queen and Megan is uncanny—aside from the short hair and the demon horn.
"Uhh… I'm just having dinner in some tavern," Megan says into the phone.
"Kuku, really? You know that I still have drones in Dawn, right?" Janet's voice replies.
"You spying on me?" Megan glances toward the window.
"Oh chill, I'm just curious where you and Mama's boy will end up."
"It won't end up anywhere! I'm just having a friendly dinner with him, that's it," Megan says.
"Awww, but you look so beautiful wearing that dress and makeup."
"Ah, shut up, Janet." Megan raises her middle finger toward the sky outside the window.
"Kukukuku, oh, gotta go. The old man's back," Janet says before cutting the call.
---
Ravendawn, Gonetanamo Bay
Janet ended her call, sliding the phone into her pocket, and watched Mo' enter the interrogation room. He wiped his hands on a towel.
"Ah, I'm sorry, sir, to have kept you waiting. When you are this old, it's hard to hold your bladder," Mo said with unnerving politeness.
"Fwease… vust gill me…" Alan rasped.
"What's that?" Mo asked.
"sust… vill… me…" Alan tried again.
"Just kill me? Ah… I see. Must be hard to talk without teeth. Can't really risk you harming yourself, sir," Mo said. He picked up two steel rods from the table and examined them.
"vwease… I afleady kold you effyting," Alan wheezed.
"Oh yes, I know. I believe you," Mo replied calmly.
Mo brought the steel rods to Alan and pushed them into his thighs.
STAB
"AAAAAAAAAGGGHHH… vhen vhy..?" Alan whimpered.
Mo attached two wire-connected clamps to the rods.
"Well, to be fair, I never said I'll stop after you give me the information, sir," he said pleasantly.
Then he flipped the switch. Electricity surged through the rods, deep into Alan's bones.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!" Alan's screams bounced off the walls. The room lights flickered wildly from the unstable voltage.
---
Dwargonia, Nearby Moth Pole Prison
The Moth Pole prison train is the only route in and out of the facility. Normally it hauls prisoners, supplies, and minerals from the local mines. Today, a different train rumbled along the snow-capped mountains—a heavily armed Dwargonian military train, bristling with cannons and armor like a fortress on rails.
Inside, the highest-ranking military mind in Dwargonia sat rigidly in his seat: Grand Marshall Dwordoug Axebreaker.
SLAM
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CANNOT REACH THEM ANYMORE!??"
Dwordoug Axebreaker slams his table with his fist, making all the bottles and glasses fall. In front of him is a scared lieutenant.
"I-I'm sorry, Grand Marshall, our informants are just like… vanished into thin air… We can't reach any of them anymore, and when we send our people to check, they can't find anything." The lieutenant said.
"How come? Tch… What the hell is this! We storm the Murican embassy because of their information! And now they suddenly disappear!? How can that make any sense!?" Dwordoug said.
"I-I'm sorry, Grand Marshall, at this moment our officers are still finding out what has happened."
"…dismissed" Dwordoug waved his hand.
The dwarf officer excuses himself from the Grand Marshall's car, leaving Dwordoug Axebreaker alone so he can think.
Whoever is scheming this has a mole inside… But what are they aiming for? A war between us and the demons? And I'm the one who is being used by them!? Tch!
---
Moth Pole Prison
When Dwordoug Axebreaker arrived at the prison station, a prison staff member was welcoming him and his men.
"G-Grand Marshall, welcome to Moth Pole prison," said the nervous dwarf.
"Who the hell are you? Where is Director Cinderclaws?"Dwordoug Axebreaker asked..
"Ah, I'm terribly sorry, Director Cinderclaws is being occupied by some… unforeseen event. But he's currently taking care of it as we speak and will be with you as fast as he can, Grand Marshall."
"WHAT UNFORESEEN EVENT!?" Dwordoug Axebreaker yelled.
"Hieee…" The staff whimper.
Dwordoug Axebreaker was about to burst out his anger at the unlucky staff, but suddenly some noises took his attention away from the staff.
He goes to the edge of the train station to check the noises that come from the pit below the station. The noise keeps chanting the same sentences repeatedly.
GREEN LIFE MATTERS! GREEN LIFE MATTERS! GREEN LIFE MATTERS!
When he looks below, there are hundreds of prisoners with green uniforms gathered in front of the main tower. They all just stand there while keeping on screaming "Green Life Matters," and some of them can be seen bringing signs.
"What the hell is happening? Is it a prison riot?" Dwordoug ask.
"Ah, no sir, it is not a riot. Uhh… it's just the union having a strike," said the staff nervously.
"What the hell is a union!?" Dwordoug shouted.
---
Moth Pole Prison, Pole Tower
At the bottom of the pit, directly in front of the tower entrance, hundreds of angry dwarf prisoners in green uniforms had gathered.
They were holding protest signs.
Actual signs.
Some were neatly painted. Some were aggressively scribbled. One had glitter.
"LESS WHIPPING, MORE TIPPING!"
"GREEN LIVES MATTER!"
"CONJUGAL VISIT ON THE PIT!"
They chanted in rough, gravelly unison, voices echoing against the icy stone walls of Moth Pole.
Inside the prison office above, the atmosphere was somehow even more hostile.
Director Cinderclaws stood behind his desk, veins visible on his forehead.
Across from him sat three dwarf prisoner union representatives.
They were wearing their standard green prison uniforms.
They were also wearing matching armbands that read: UNION.
"9 slashes per hour!" Cinderclaws barked.
SLAM.
A representative with a braided beard and chipped horn slammed both palms onto the table.
"No! Six slashes per hour and dessert for dinner!"
Silence.
Both sides leaned forward.
Glared.
Negotiation. Brutal. Uncompromising.
Across the room, Dwordoug Axebreaker stood with his men, watching.
He blinked slowly.
"I have ruled fortresses," Dwordoug said flatly. "I have led sieges. I have crushed rebellions."
He paused.
"I have never heard of prisoners forming an organization before."
The prison staff beside him swallowed.
"Y-yes, sir. They're… new."
"Since when?" Dwordoug asked.
The staff hesitated.
"Since… well… a couple of days after the demon minister and ambassador arrived."
Dwordoug's eye twitched.
"What?" Dwordoug's voice dropped dangerously. "Did I not order you to keep the demons away from forced labor?"
"Yes, sir! We did, sir!" the staff stammered. "But they still encountered other inmates during the daily fifteen-minute exercise."
"Fifteen minutes."
"Yes, sir… They began discussing things during exercise hour. Concepts like… prisoner rights. Representation. Collective bargaining."
Silence.
Dwordoug stared at the negotiating table where Cinderclaws and the union representatives still arguing.
"Only fifteen minutes per day," Dwordoug repeated slowly. "And within a week they formed an organization?"
The staff coughed.
"Actually… three, sir."
"What."
"There are currently three unions in Moth Pole, sir. The other two already completed their protest demonstrations earlier this week."
Dwordoug turned back toward the office floor.
At that exact moment—
"Eight slashes per hour and fruit on Sundays!" Cinderclaws shouted.
"Six slashes and dental!" the representative countered.
"Seven and no singing during labor!"
"Six and we keep singing!"
Dwordoug closed his eyes.
"What kind of madness," he muttered, voice hollow, "is this?"