Missing Scene Fanfic Challenge
January 2001
As the scene begins....
Hercules and Iolaus had been brought by the guards from the bridge to the arena and shoved toward one of the openings from the arena into the darkened interior. The lead mercenary, called Bellicus, carried a whip curled in his hand and all the guards were clad in black leather legionnaire garb, and all carried swords which they used to prod at their hapless charges. Coming to the barred, iron-slatted door, they were pushed forward into the dark interior, the guards marching along side, shoving them down the short flight of steps "Watch your step" muttered one of the guards.
Iolaus and Hercules squinted as their eyes were temporarily blinded by the sharp change from the blinding sunlight in the arena to the dark, fetid air of the cells. Men, must have been at least fifty of them, filled the cramped space. Food was being served...if the sour, rancid smelling foul mixture in the bowls could be called food. Prisoners, many heavily muscled, sat at long tables, eating the disgusting slop...either too hungry to care or so used to it, they didn't notice it anymore.
Iolaus was becoming more and more irritated as Bellicus kept prodding him with the pointed end of his whip's handle. He did not want to be here...why they had to get themselves arrested just to find a stranger named Gladius was beyond him. Between them, he and Herc could tear this place apart, find Gladius and take him back to his wife....and free the rest of these men along with him.
"You're sure this is the way to find this guy?" he queried in a testy tone to Hercules.
Looking around, Hercules responded, "If you have a better idea..."
"Keep moving," Bellicus interrupted with an order, again shoving Iolaus forward. 'That's enough!' thought Iolaus, grating through clenched teeth, "If you shove that thing into my back once more, you're going to end up wearing it."
"Did you say something?" taunted Bellicus, shoving him again...hard.
Frustrated, glad of any excuse to fight back, Iolaus turned to confront the guard, "Yeah! I..."
But, before he could say more, Bellicus had clubbed him across the face "AHHH!!" Iolaus exclaimed as the pain burst behind his eyes, knocking him to the ground. When Hercules stepped forward to intervene, one of the other mercenaries quickly raised his sword, the tip just inches from Herc's throat. Bellicus turned in sadistic glee, daring him to fight, "If you're thinking of helping him, go on, give Rankis an excuse."
Iolaus groaned as he struggled to his knees, only to feel the whole world explode as Bellicus kicked him viciously in the head, the force and momentum throwing him into the cell to land sprawled unconscious on the earthen floor.
Hearing the mercenaries laugh at this brutal amusement, Hercules wanted to tear them all limb from limb, slowly. But now was not the time. Seething with anger, he promised Iolaus' assailant, "We'll have to discuss this later," in the low, too controlled voice that would have led others who had dealt with him to pause for second thoughts. But, Bellicus didn't know him, so he only said, with evident pleasure, "Oh we will. You'll be with us a while." Grinning, Bellicus watched as Rankis shoved Hercules into the cell and, slamming the cell door closed, locked it.
Hercules looked out at the men who had not even paused in their eating during this brutal confrontation. Hardened, they had seen it all before, and they would see it all again. The "new meat" would learn that pointless resistance wasn't worth the effort...or the pain.
Made thoughtful by the indifference of the others, Hercules turned and knelt beside Iolaus, feeling his neck gently to be sure it hadn't been broken by the force of Bellicus' kick, before pulling his friend's shoulders up to rest against his own left arm and shoulder. Iolaus' face was already starting to swell, the dark smudges of bruises emerging beneath his eyes. As Hercules delicately pushed against the swelling, to determine if the bones of Iolaus' face had been shattered, his buddy moaned softly at the pain but did not awaken.
"Nothing broken," sighed Hercules, gratefully. It would hurt but his friend would mend. Hercules leaned over to lift Iolaus' out flung arm and lay it across his friend's body and then he shifted his own body into a sitting position, settling his back against the wall of the cell, carefully pulling Iolaus with him, and cradling his friend more securely in the shelter of his arm.
With a sigh, Hercules moved his eyes to scan the mean, drab surroundings of their cell. There were no furnishings in the cage-like structure, not even pallets of straw or sleeping mats. The crisscross of its iron walls left them no privacy. Torches on the walls in the common area outside of the cells and daylight from the small barred window high in the wall barely relieved the heavy gloom of the dungeon. Tarturus had more warmth and style than this place.
Herc let his eyes drift over the other prisoners. Some looked strong and fit enough to play the gladiator role they had been chosen to play. Others looked weakened by weeks, maybe years, of captivity, of bad food, of abuse. The others were still ignoring them, some jested with one another, shoving playfully at the table, exchanging friendly insults and taunts, but most sat hunched over their bowls, concentrating all their energy and attention on the meagre fare. So, some had formed at least rudimentary friendships ...there might be a chance they would rally together, have enough loyalty for one another to unite in an common effort of resistance. Maybe...it was too soon to tell.
Iolaus moaned softly, stirring weakly, but not yet conscious. Hercules tightened his protective grip around his friend's smaller body. 'Iolaus' he thought as he looked with fond irritation at his friend's familiar countenance, 'why can't you ever learn to curb that temper of your's?' But, Hercules knew the answer...his smaller friend was a dynamo of restless energy, constitutionally incapable of acting with patience without considerable effort of will. He made up for his small stature with a feisty confidence, lightning like reflexes and unparalleled skill as a warrior...and, invariably, that feistiness and confidence got him into trouble as often as it defeated their enemies.
Today had particularly tested Iolaus' patience. Hercules knew Iolaus, that even though he had appeared to resist coming to the woman's aid, it was really only his friend's way of challenging Hercules to think before he agreed to help a stranger. Iolaus would never, ever, walk away if there was someone who needed something he could give. But, Herc conceded, Iolaus really had been peeved with him for getting them thrown into this prison. Iolaus did NOT like to be pushed around and he didn't like to be caged. Lacking his partner's olympian strength, Iolaus knew that once he was behind bars, his freedom of action and choice would be severely constrained. Iolaus also did not find any charm in brutish, stupid guards...and he particularly LOATHED bullies.
Herc sighed, knowing that it was his decisions, his actions that had inevitably led to this predictable result...Iolaus once again acting with typical resistance to abuse and getting himself battered for his trouble. And, just as typically, Herc realized, he had not given any thought to the vulnerable position in which his decision would place his comrade...and it sure hadn't taken long for that vulnerability to manifest itself. Herc grimaced as he recalled the brutal blow from the wooden handle of the whip and the vicious kick that Iolaus had already endured...and they'd only been captive for less than an hour. 'Oh no,' he castigated himself, 'I didn't spare Iolaus a single thought as I set these events in motion. I'm too used to him handling anything that gets thrown at him....Just because he always acts invulnerable, I begin to believe he really is immune to danger.'
For the first time since this adventure had begun, Hercules realized that the danger could be deadly for his friend....and he'd already failed to protect him from abuse, from injury. Was his strategy a mistake? It had seemed so simple, so self evident...you're trying to find someone, so get yourself taken to him. Easy, straight forward, minimum effort, no waste of time spent in scouting around. Right. Well, the strategy now was to find this Gladius and get the Hades out of here...before some worse fate befell this man who would follow him anywhere without second thought, without hesitation.
Iolaus moaned again and stirred with more energy. His hand came up to hold his aching head. "Owwww!!!!!!!" he groaned, "what happened?" Disoriented, his glazed eyes tried to take in his surroundings, wincing against the pain that inflamed his face. "Easy, Iolaus, don't move yet...just get your bearings a bit first." "Herc?" "Yeah, I'm here, I've got you, buddy. It'll be okay." "Okay, Herc...thanks..." Satisfied, knowing that his friend would keep him safe, the tension in his body relaxed as Iolaus drifted back into oblivion.
Herc doubted Iolaus would thank him once he came fully awake and remembered who it was who had gotten them into this mess in the first place. But, he knew Iolaus wouldn't blame him either. Nor would he complain. He never did. Herc didn't actually know whether Iolaus just couldn't be bothered wasting time or energy raging about what had already happened and couldn't be changed, or whether it just didn't occur to Iolaus to complain. He always just faced forward, got on with whatever was needed...usually with an almost unquenchable good humour and an unholy anticipation of adventure. Looking around the cell, Hercules figured that the good humour might be slow in coming this time...and, as for adventure...well, maybe once they were out of this cell. 'Soon,' Hercules silently vowed to his battered friend, 'I promise, I'll get you out of here soon...I won't leave you in this hell hole any longer than is absolutely necessary to do what we came here to do.'
Hercules wasn't aware that his partner was awake until Iolaus sniffed painfully and mumbled, "By the gods, Hercules, whad hid me dis dime?"
Hercules couldn't resist a fond grin as he replied, "A very big, very mean, VERY sadistic mercenary named Bellicus hit you with a club and then kicked you in the head."
"Ugh," muttered Iolaus, his voice sounding strangely thick, mangling his words as he breathed through his mouth, his nose blocked by the swelling of his face, "dad explains id den...my head hurds like Ares just slapped me silly." Sniffing again and trying to lever himself up, Iolaus hissed against the pain.
"Here, buddy, let me help you," Hercules said as he eased Iolaus into a sitting position. Iolaus gently prodded his face, exploring his injuries. Coming to his feet, Herc winced in sympathy as Iolaus again moaned softly against the painful throbbing that hammered in his head as he cradled his face in his hands.
Feeling awkward, regretting that he'd gotten Iolaus into this, he began to apologize, "Um, I'm sorry, Iolaus...." Iolaus just waved a hand, cutting him off. "Id's alrighd, Hercules, my own fauld. I shouldn'd have led dad bozo provoke me. Forget id." Sniffing, dabbing at at his nose, "Dahhh..." Iolaus muttered before looking up at Herc, "Are you sure dere isn'd an easier way to find this guy?"
"I'm sorry Iolaus," Herc said as he slapped his friend gently on the back and turned to look out at the other prisoners, "I promise you we won't stay any longer than we have to." Putting his face to the bars of the cage, Herc called out, "We're trying to find a man named Gladius." There was a long silence as the prisoners looked up at him and then exchanged covert glances with one another. "Maybe he doesn't want to be found," one of them finally called back.
and, well, you know the rest of the story.....
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