45 Novoslobodskaya Street

[Ryker]

Black dreams faded to flashes of light. Bumps and jostling rumbled the inside of an unpleasant vehicle. He rolled his head aside, but a swarm of nausea washed his stomach weak. His eyes scrunched shut. Holding back the bile by strength of will, he swallowed it back down and tried to move.

Restraints.

But he was too weak to fight them. Shadows hovered. Men in helmets and riot gear, but the patches were Custody, not States. Memory slipped and so did his consciousness. The black void of empty dreams returned.

+++

A gurney held his body when next he woke. More restraints. A ceiling rolled overhead, cloaked in shadows and slicked with grime. Arms lifted him. Grunts of frustration for his weight. Iron bars gonged, loud locks rolling and smashing shut again. He was dumped on the floor, which he clawed at, seeking something to hold onto.

Then a kick to the stomach. He groaned. More kicks. His back flared hot. His chest and abdomen crushed. He pulled his arms in, curling around in a ball protecting softer tissues. The beating went on a while. Or until he passed out again. He wasn't sure how it ended.

When next he woke, his pants were at his knees and his ass was on fire. Fury worse than what he unfurled on Oriena lit hellfire within when he realized why. He stretched for the pain-fueled ancient power, intent on leveling the building with a look, but Oriena’s wall remained intact. His fists pounded the ground as though it may shatter the shield. It didn’t work. Instead, he snarled and looked around. The demon that blazed from his eyes was beaten and overthrown, but it rattled the cages as he searched this new hell. 

A small room meant for ten occupied dozens – maybe a hundred men swallowed life as he knew it. Others were unconscious near him. One laid in blood pooled under a broken jaw, the eyes empty. Shouting mixed with screams of terror echoed in the distance. 

He crawled away, pulling his pants upward as he did. This wasn’t a jail.

It was worse.

Shit. I’m in the goddam Butryka.







*Butryka is a predetention holding center in the middle of Moscow City along 45 Nvovoslobodskaya Street. The building is nondescript unless one knew what to look for. There is a subway across the street. Regular neighbors and businesses flank it. It is probably the most feared "center" in Moscow, if not all of Russia, which is saying something given the notoriety of the prison system there.