Rolling in the 'Deep [Exemplary]

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The midday sun was bright over their heads, checked briefly by the occasional shadow of a passing gull overhead. The seabirds squawked as they spiraled in great circles over the sunny beachscape. Behind the scattered line of huts was the dense, lush foliage of a tropical rainforest. Various sounds could be heard emanating from the wildlife that dwelled within. Foamy waves crashed along the shore, depositing seaweed and juggling odd pieces of driftwood.

The pale prime glanced back and forth, taking in a cursory view of his surroundings; he raised a gloved hand to his eyes, shielding them from the brilliant light as he did so. Aside from Ral and himself, the population of the small island consisted of a group of five or so people along the water’s edge. Slightly bemused, Vincent looked to Ral for the next course of action. Where was this prison they had spoken of? It certainly appeared to be hiding itself well. Had this whole ordeal been a setup? What had he gotten himself into?

“That’s weird,” Ral began, polishing his spectacles with his sleeve. “Usually the station drops you at the main island.” He pointed eastward as he spoke, gesturing toward a much larger island just close enough to be seen along the horizon. “Costa del Sol. Though I suppose this works out better, I’d rather avoid the Imperial shadow when possible. Still, weird though.”

Vincent nodded, regarding his companion with suspicion. The quest had seemed like a straightforward escort mission in the beginning, but the ex-Turk was beginning to suspect it was more complicated than he had assumed. Presently his guide took off down the beach, walking briskly toward the eastern edge he had been referring to.

“Where are we going?” the gunslinger called to his guide. “And where is this prison? All that I can see is ocean.”

Ral stopped suddenly, facing Vincent. “That’s part of what makes Impel Down the high-security prison that it is,” he paused. “You don’t know where it is unless you’re in it. They don’t exactly advertise its location.”

Vincent frowned. His confusion was quickly becoming frustration. “There are a few too many unanswered questions here. I didn’t have a chance to ask much back at the bar, but I’d like to know everything about what we are here to do and why we’re doing it.”

Ral nodded amiably, taking a seat on a nearby rock as he elaborated.

Tal Sola had arrived in the Omniverse around a year ago from his home in a far-off realm. He was one of the unlucky secondaries to have been summoned be a particularly careless Prime, shackled in servitude and surrounded danger that came with being around his Prime. As time went on and loneliness crept in around him, he found himself in need of a companion. He had no trust for anyone he met, feeling the constant fear of being captured or extorted for who he served in this realm. Though on his home planet he had never been a stranger to being lonely since the death of most of his family, he had always had one person by his side. With a pang of guilt in his heart, he plead with his 'master' to summon his younger brother Ral to his other-dimensional prison. The two rejoiced in their reunion and though they were far from home, they were content with staying in the Omniverse, so long as they had each other. So they had passed the days, with Ral maintaining a small house in the woods near Camelot while Tal worked in town for their Prime. Months later the two escaped their captor into the bustling metropolis of Coruscant, Tal having taken a job for a local crime lord; out of the frying pan and into the fire for the small amount of autonomy it granted the boys. The job paid quite well, with his only real responsibility being the trafficking of information among the varying shades of corruption that composed the city. Ral worried about the safety of his brother, risking his neck daily trading secrets from those who trusted him to those that trusted no one. The elder Sola hushed his brother’s concerns, continuing his double-dealing for both the city’s worst criminals and highest-ranking officials. It was double-crossing Judge Dredd that had left him running for his life.

“I was never worried about him back home. He’s a really smart guy, super charismatic. But when he got his hands in the pocket of the Empire, playing the criminal underworld and the iron fist of Coruscant against one another, I got scared.” Ral sighed, stirring the beach sand with a stick. “Something as simple as this got him sent to the worst prison in the ‘Verse. It had to have been personal.”

The ex-Turk nodded; he was all too familiar with espionage. He needed no reminded of his days working for Shinra, taking out the leaders of opposing organizations, criminal or otherwise. He had barely escaped them with his life. Though, in reality, did he even?

Ral sniffled, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’m sorry. This is so stupid. I’ve brought us both all this way and I don’t have any idea where to find him. I have no way of paying you, and I’m asking you to risk your own life for someone you don’t know or care about.” He sighed, dropping his writing utensil. In the sand was etched an impressive scene: a detailed picture of a small house built along the edge of a lake, shrouded in trees and swaddled in long grasses. Two figures were seated by the lake; their tiny sandy faces grinning, fishing poles in hand.

Vincent’s frustration had long since subsided, giving way to pity. He laid a hand on Ral’s shoulder. “No payment is needed.”

The boy chuckled. “That’s nice of you to say, but unless you know where to find Impel Down, we’re up Shit Creek.”

The sudden sound of a gunshot drew the attention of the travelers, coming from across the strait between Costa del Sol and the unnamed island on which they stood. A group of a few dozen figures stood on the beach across from them, heading toward a docked ship. The majority of the group was dressed in identical uniforms, all a drab gray that matched the hue of used telepasses. Vincent’s keen eyes could make out chains between the men, keeping them spaced evenly apart. A half-dozen or so men dressed in red were firing on the last of the gang, who was now being dragged through the sand by the rest of the group. Vincent glanced over at the ship toward which they were headed, able to easily make out the enormous black Imperial Crest emblazoned on the hull.