The Bastille

Finch's and Hawkins' holding cell was located in an unsightly looking building on the far end of town, near the exit ramp leading to the interstate. The exterior was in an worrisome state of decay, with broken windows and faded wooden panels covering the outside.

Hawkins had swiftly departed from the restaurant to begin his own personal quest, leaving Finch to escort Team Silver Moon to their place of business. Finch had been brief when they entered the building, ushering them straight to the staircase leading to the basement.

Victor was met with the overwhelming smell of bodily fluids and mildew as he reached the bottom of the stairs, turning his stomach even more than the anxiety he already felt. The boy clutched the back of Matthew's coat harder as his eyes darted around him, trying to get a grasp on his surroundings.

The holding cell likened to Victor as a dungeon, but with a bit more modern touch. Instead of medieval stone, the walls were made of molded concrete, but the basic structure was the same. The square cells that lined each side of the room were guarded from the front with thick, heavy iron bars and a small stone bench was connected to the back wall. If he squinted through the suffocating darkness of the room, Victor could see figures squirming within the confines of the cells.

"Yo, Finch," Aunora muttered, pausing in her tracks and nearly causing Esper, Matthew, and Victor to run into her. "Is this where we'll be standing guard?"

Finch haulted as well, shaking his head. "Nah. You'll be going to the floor below us."

"Good. It smells like crap in here." she hissed, covering her nose.

Finch shrugged. "'Ey, criminals smell nasty, amirite?" he snorted, glaring at a nearby cell. 

Umbra, who had gravitated towards the front to keep an eye on Finch, carefully inspected the cell before him. "Isn't it a tad bit dangerous to keep prisoners in such awkward quarters like this? Someone could easily slip their hands through the bars and use a spell." he observed, his sharp purple eyes cutting through the dark and staring straight at Finch.

The squat man scoffed, kicking a piece of debris by his feet. "No way.  I've got all these suckers locked tight in cold iron, they're completely powerless."

An awkward shuffle of uneasiness washed over the group, effecting everyone but Victor and Matthew. 

Umbra took a curt breath, swallowing hard. "Cold iron?"

Those two words had been drilled into Victor's mind by Umbra for as long as he could remember. 'Cold iron' was the term given to a special subset of reddish-tinted metal that cancelled out magical powers such as shape-shifting. Oddly, it only subdued non-human creatures, which made it prime material in the past for human soldiers to fight against magical creatures. While not illegal in modern times, the use and ownership of cold iron was frowned upon, as its presence was horribly offensive.

"Don't look so nervous," Finch cackled at Umbra, smirking. "This ain't for you or any of your friends, unless you turn out to be criminals."

Umbra turned away, stepping closer to Victor and Matthew. "I see... Anyway, can you please pick up the pace and bring us to the location we will be patrolling? I'm ready to begin."

"Right, right! But hold up- before I drag y'all down there, I gotta warn you: that's where we hold the high threat level prisoners. It may be too dangerous for the kid." Finch murmured, pointing at Victor.
Sweat gathered under Victor's armpits as he processed Finch's words. High threat level? So, right below us, are creatures that want to kill us?
"Ah, if that's the case," Matthew said coolly, placing his hands on Victor's shoulders and rubbing them gently. "I'll stay up here with Victor. That'll make you feel better, right sweetie?"

Victor nodded frantically, thankful Matthew had volunteered himself.

"Yeah, no." Finch said sardonically. "I need all the fighters I can get. Don't worry, the kid's perfectly safe down here. The creatures in the cages usually sleep all the time anyway."

Sighing, Umbra knelt down in front of Victor, cupping the boy's face with his hands.

"Do you think you'll be okay? I know I've put you out of your comfort zone a lot here lately." Umbra smiled at him sadly, making Victor's heart sink.

He wasn't sure whether he could stand being alone for that long in a strange area, surrounded by captured felons. But, on the other hand, he didn't want to disappoint his father by being a coward.

So, for the second time that day, Victor lied to Umbra.

"I'll be fine."

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