Chapter Text
Percy had been in the cell for what felt like days. It was hard to keep track because there were no windows in his cell and the guards brought him rotten food inconsistently. They had taken everything from him save his pants and undershirt. His feet were bound and chained to the wall. The only thing Percy had to occupy himself with was his mind. He kept going over the events that led up to this point, trying to find the fault in his plan.
He hadn’t anticipated the amount of guards She kept… He hadn’t foreseen his own hesitance to kill another human being… He hadn’t expected his gun to break… He hadn’t even considered that She wouldn’t be home…
Eventually, Percy heard voices from the corridor leading to the cells. Two male voices (guards), and a woman’s voice…
“We have been holding him for six days, Lady.”
“You said he came here looking to murder me? Interesting…” said the voice that Percy had only heard in his nightmares for the past three years.
“Yes, Lady. He had a strange weapon of fire and metal that killed two of our men before it turned on its master and burst into flames,” a second guard replied.
“Where is this ‘demonic’ weapon now?”
“We put it in your workshop, Lady”
“Good.”
Finally, Dr. Anna Ripley stood before his cell. Without the aid of his glasses, Percy saw the woman as merely a blurry, vaguely-feminine shape, but the knowledge that his tormentor was right in front of him sent twin surges of rage and terror coursing through his body.
Ripley spoke to the guards “Get him up. I want to get a good look at him.” She regarded him through the bars for a long moment once the guards had hauled him to his feet. She took in his dirtied white hair, tattered clothes, gaunt frame, bloody face, and murderous glare before asking, “Who are you? For a man that seems intent on murdering me, I cannot seem to place your face.”
Percy tried to keep his voice from wavering as he replied “You don’t remember me? You don’t remember torturing me? Killing my family? Taking my home?”
Recognition dawned on her face. “Percival de Rolo. You’re alive." A sick smile spread across her features. "And all grown up I see. Without your glasses, you look just like your father did.”
“DO NOT SPEAK ABOUT MY FATHER!” Percy roared as he lunged for her, only to be caught by the guards. A punch landed in his gut knocking the wind out of him and making him double over in pain. The guards forced him upright to watch his captor.
Ripley only laughed and walked forward, toward Percy. “What a pleasant surprise. I was truly put out by the news of your death. I had enjoyed our time together.” Ripley took his face in her hand. Percy could not hide his contempt as he tried to break away, but the older woman’s grip only tightened on his chin. “I am glad you came back to me, Percival. And I understand that you brought me a gift.” His blood turned to ice at the mention of his weapon. She pulled him in close and said, “I look forward to finding out all your little secrets tomorrow.”
Percy was frozen with fear. He was dimly aware that his captors had thrown him back to the ground and had exited the cell, but all he could focus on was the promise of another interrogation from Ripley. He could not let her learn about his gun, but he also didn’t know how much torture he could withstand at the moment.
When Percy once again became aware of his surroundings, Ripley was walking away and ordering the guards to bring him down to her “workshop” first thing in the morning. She also told them to return Percy’s glasses because “it’s no fun interrogating someone when they can’t see what’s happening.”
Percy forced himself to sleep that night because he knew he would need all the strength he could get for the next day.