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A Man.


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(Here's a story thing for a character I may or may not use. Yell about how good/bad it is if you wish, I enjoy feedback~)

Ryan Lisand was a man.

A man, who was of one of the highest rank any Head of Security could rise to.

A proud man.

A just man.

A man who was vaguely aware that a black furred Tajara had just drugged him, and the feeling of someone dragging him like a sack of fleshy oranges.

As self-awareness slowly arose from the stocky man, several things began to enter his mind in order. Firstly, he was in a small room that he did not recognize. Secondly, he was handcuffed to a chair, behind a glass wall, a windoor embedded into it’s side. Thirdly, said grey Tajara was behind said glass, fiddling with a complicated set of valves and pipes, wearing the orange jumpsuit of an engineer. And fourthly, he was wearing nothing but the Captain Underverse boxers he had put on that morning.

Utilizing all of the training he had obtained in his twenty three years as a head of security, Ryan succeeded in not soiling his clothes when he finally took notice of the orange plasma tank jutting from under his chair.

The Tajara seemed to note Ryan's sudden sorry state of being awake, and quickly stepped into the small room with Ryan, gripping his chin in an attempt to examine is face more closely, before giving a quick giggle and releasing his head.

“Well, well, well, Misterrr Lisand. Arrren't you a handsome thing afterrrr fifty yearrrs of life, eh? Prrroud, a herrro, who the little ones want to be, the ladies want to bed, and the gods themselves would envy” said the Tajara, whose name had finally wormed it's way into Ryan's mind.

“Hadar, what the sweet fuck are you doing?” Ryan croaked out, aware of how sore his throat felt.

“Can't even prrronounce a simple name, can you? A shame, perrrhap's he should be applying forrrr a new name then Hiidarrrr, eh? Drrrasii, mayhaps? No matterrr, no matterrr~”

Leaning back against the window, Ryan was aware that Hiidar was not a particularly tall Tajara, but possessed the stocky, muscular build of anyone who spends a majority of his shift inside a hardsuit. The black fur of the Tajara was well groomed, and his mane kept in a neat ordeal. Fumbling with the cuffs, Ryan suddenly decided to try his hand at being a stage magician, hoping he had a particular talent with the handcuff trick that he had always enjoyed as a child.

Giving a few “Tsk Tsk” sounds, Hiidar turned and left the room, returning to the secondary section of this apparent hidden room as he continued to fiddle with the system of valves and pipes, before turning and grinning at Ryan. “He's got a question, forrr you, Sirrr mane.”

It didn’t take much for Ryan to note that the Tajara’s teeth were a perfect white, yet possessed several holes where teeth had been apparently lost. Before Ryan could respond with some form of plea for release, death threat or mix of the two, Hiidar continued with speaking. “It is a question a dearrr frrriend told him. What, is the most powerrrful thing in the entirrrre univerrrses, hm?”

Resisting the urge to yell “Your mother”, Ryan continued to work at the cuffs, finding himself surprised at how little they hurt digging into his hands when he became aware of the igniter rigged up to the floor next to him, and said “Metal? People? Money?”

Giving a light Titter, the Tajara pulled a small handkerchief from his pocket, a bright red piece of silk with a few odd gold lines running through it, and wiped at his face, removing some unseen debris from his muzzle. “No, no, silly one. Firrre.”

Re-entering the room, the Tajara began rigging up Ryan with a blue oxygen tank and a mask, flicking his internals before giving a hefty yank on the cuffs, removing the progress he had made to freedom from the Tajara. Leaving the room, he once again returned to the Frankenstein-esque assortment of pipes, flipping a switch. This seemed to trigger something, as Ryan began acutely aware of the hissing noise of some unseen toxin floating into the room.

Finding his tongue, Ryan began to balk “I-I ain’t done nothing wrong, Hiidar. I can help you, if you’re in trouble. Y-you need money? This some k-kinda hit?”

“Money? Oh heavens no! Hiidarrr needs nothing frrrom you but one thing.” shuffling through the many pockets of Hiidar's engineering backpack, he pulled a small photo and pressed it to the glass, grinning lazily. “Rrrrrecognize this, Sirrr?”

Ceasing his struggles for a moment, Ryan glared at the photo, not quite seeing what was pictured for a moment, before his heart skipped a few beats, and almost attempted to continue these plans before his body kicked in to remind his heart about how valuable it was to the whole “not dying” thing was.

“E-eh? Not a clue. Let me go!” he cried, more and more aware of the stinging of plasma seeping into the very material of his eye's.

“Oh, don't rrrecognize the ship that held severrral dozen Tajarrra hostages, and the fourrr terrorrrists whom you sent the command to blow out of space, when they asked forrr rrransoms? Funny, he is positive it was you, Sirrr Rrrryan, who got prrromoted forrr yourrr quick thinking and excellent...the worrrds werrre “Rrresourrrce management underrrr dirrrress” yes?”

Lacking words, Ryan blankly stared at the grey-furred alien, before finding his left hand had found itself outside of the handcuffs embrace. Grinning, he rushed the windoor, planning to throttle the Tajara and escape this hell.

Two things occurred at this exact moment. Hiidar gave a titter, and Ryan ran headfirst into a locked windoor.

Pulling a Signaller from his bag, Hiidar gave another titter and spoke. “In the end, dearrr Sirrr, you will burrrn in this life and the next.”

Clutching his clawed hands together, signaller between them both, Hiidar began to mumble “Dearrrr Shadow, this one sends you a gift of blood and firrre, frrrrom which the guilty shall rrrise to yourrr embrrrace!”

Ryan heard the click of a igniter clicking into life..

Ryan, was a man.

A proud man.

A just man.

A man who took a hostage situations and made it into a promotion.

“Let's see you bomb yourrr way out of this.”

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