Back To Earth (Peterick MPREG) ? Book 2

Joe Trohman hadn't seen the sun in five months. Between the recovery and the trials—him being found guilty of treason of the highest order and sentenced to life in prison—he had been deprived on the one joy he still had in this world.

The drab stone walls and ceiling encompassed him in various forms of claustrophobia. His room was small, the "courtyard" was quite large. Many humans were in the same prison, but he hadn't bothered to talk to any of them. Whispers of escape flew among the prisoners, and Joe didn't want to be apart of it. If he was going to escape it would be by himself on his own terms.

This morning started as every other. The prisoners were woken up every morning at six am, ate some blank form of breakfast the keep them just full enough to make it to the next meal, and were escorted to their designated work area until lunch. From there they would eat and return to work, finally ending the day around six where they would eat dinner and be free to do what they pleased. Lights out was ten, but sleep rarely came for Joe. He slept when he could, but it never seemed to be enough.

It was in the middle of lunch when the first act of rebellion was done. Two prisoners from table 14 got up and casually made there way over to table 65. Joe, who was situated at table 107, noticed this first. His eyes refrained from looking around suspiciously, and instead focused on the bowl of chicken soup in front of him. He kept reminding himself to not get involved, that it would only make things worse for him. However, when the shouting began he couldn't help but look up.

One of the two from table 14 was being hauled to his feet by one of the guards that patrolled the perimeter of the cafeteria. The rest of table 65 stood up as one and began their attack. Silverware was used as weapons and food went flying. Screams of pain echoed through the air as nearly every prisoner engaged in the attack.

Joe was frozen to his seat, staring at the scene playing before him. For a brief moment he thought his fellow prisoners would win, that he would be free, but the doors flew open and reinforcements came flooding in. The prisoners were weak but determined.

A pair of hands grabbed Joe from behind and slammed him to the floor. One of the human men he roomed with was towering over him in a very threatening manner. He got to his knees and landed punch after punch to any part of Joe's body.

"Traitor!" he exclaimed. "You've betrayed us all."

Joe felt like he was having an out of body experience. He didn't feel the pain of the hits anymore; he couldn't hear the roar of commotion that had been echoing in his ears. He was in a daze as the man was pulled away from him.

"Get a stretcher!" a voice called.

The face flitting in and out of his vision was one that he had known once, though why he was wearing the opposing force's uniform was a question he wouldn't have an answer to. Or maybe he was dreaming, hallucinating. His eyes were getting heavier, one was already swollen shut.

"Fuck," the man swore. "Get the damn stretcher now."

Joe blinked one, two, three times before slipping away.

*

He came to roughly five hours after the attack. His left eye was still swollen, and his entire body seemed to be in a place between pain and comfort, the former becoming more prominent as he tried to move.

The soft noises of people moving in the halls was somehow comforting to him. He wasn't dead, luckily.

"Hey."

Joe flinched and turned to the left. The guard that had saved him was sitting in a chair off to the side, looking at him intently.

"Sorry," he muttered when he noticed Joe flinch. "Probably should've sat on the other side."

"You think?"

The man laughed. "It's been a long day."

Joe nodded.

The two sat in silence for a while, just listening to the people outside the room and avoiding eye contact.

"Do I know you?" Joe finally asked.

"My name's Andy."

And while it wasn't the answer Joe was expecting, it was the one he needed. Cautiously, he nodded his head, showing Andy that he understood.

"I work for the Arkkarredian Royal Guard, sent by His Royal Highness to interrogate some of the prisoners. You were one of them. However, seeming as many of the prisoners were so keen on rebellion, my interrogation will be postponed until the leaders of the little stunt are found. . . . And killed."

"How long will that take?"

"Oh a good few months, I would say. You humans are very difficult to decode. You like to switch it up while thinking we have no idea. Now tell me, Joe, were you one of the ones who planned the attack?"

It was so eloquently put that Joe almost didn't catch the way Andy went from friend to enemy.

He shook his head slowly and said, "No. I didn't talk to any of them."

"You didn't?"

"Why bother?"

"So you don't know who started it? Pity. If you had some information, maybe I could find a way to have your status changed from say a human to a, oh, I don't know, Arkkarredian or something," Andy added as he saw Joe's good eye widen in interest.

It took Joe a full ten minutes to break the barriers in his mind that told him not to give any names. And Andy watched with an expressionless face as the walls came down.

"All the men in my dorm. I don't really know their names, but those were the ones."

Andy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It makes sense, doesn't it? They were the most spreads out, coming in contact with nearly all the prisoners, but you didn't join. Why?"

"I wanted to do it my way."

"I figured as much," Andy said with a smirk. "I'll send a nurse in to tend to you. I appreciate your cooperation."

"Wait. You—"

"I will keep my word, Joe. If we want something, we get it. No pathetic words of manipulation needed. See you soon."