6 Part 1.6

Level Three is a desert. That's desert with one 's' by the way and not two. I wish it was two S's, but instead it is the opposite of that. It hot, miserable, and filled with crucified people. You think I'm joking? I can't make this shit up.

Randomly strewn through the halls are wooden crosses with people tied up or nailed to them. They moan in agony, or worse yet, stay completely silent. Small snakes and other desert animals occasionally run through the halls, but they aren't anything at all compared to the monsters on the floor above. Except for the cobras. I'm pretty sure if those bite me I'll die.

Food and water is scarce. Really scarce. I tried eating a cactus I found growing out of the walls yesterday. That was a mistake. A huge mistake. It had needles on the inside of the juicy parts!

I'm 80% sure that this cactus is proof that God exists, and that he is cruel and malicious. I was spitting needles for over an hour. For laughs, I used my ability to propel the needles at a Hundred-Fold speed.

Did ninjas ever do that, or is that just my imagination? Wait. What's a ninja? Did I know a guy named Ninja Goosen? Yah. That makes more sense.

Back to the present however, I'm starving. Literally. I'm wondering the halls looking for something to eat. I can't live like this. This isn't living. This is sustained dying. Like a weak zombie!

Zombies are dead people that walk around. I remember that.

The only thing that makes me feel better about shambling around place to place walking on this hot sand is that I'm not the only one. Everyone is a miserable zombie. Not just me.

The guards keep everyone in Level Three in a constant state like this by giving out rations. I take my rations like everyone else, and it sucks. I've eaten glop my entire life (except for that one time, and you all remember how that turned out) and somehow they have made glop taste worse. Miracles never cease.

Speaking of miracles, I stop shambling with the rest of the prisoners and see something out of the ordinary. The crowd leaves me behind with the irregularity.

It's a tall man with braided hair and a beard with a ponytail. A familiar symbol is tattooed on his face. I can't read, but I know that string of symbols means 'Justice'. This man is wearing prisoner clothing, but that's not what makes him stand out. What makes him stand out is that he's eating a handful of glop while leaning against a wall. Unlike everyone else on Level Three he's not looking like a meaty skeleton. He has a regular person's proportions.

He sees me watching him and finishes eating. He licks his fingers and regards me cooly.

"So, what crew were you on Cabin Boy?" He asks in a tilting voice.

His question catches me off guard and I find myself responding. "I'm not a pirate sir."

He just laughs. "Oh? Some other kind of criminal then? Thief, traitor, spy maybe? You have some respect for authority. Probably a traitor? What's your crime Traitor?"

I'm so tired, but I respond. "I was born."

He laughs harder. "Oh, you must had been a court jester for some King then told some secrets you shouldn't have. But seriously, why are you here?"

"I'm not joking sir. I was born here. My name is Prisoner 10013. For the crime of Being Born I was sentenced to fifty years in Impel Down. Less with good behavior. I have forty one years left."

He stops laughing. "Wow. Sad."

I just keep looking at him for a few moments before licking my lips. "Where did you get that food sir?"

"That shit I just ate was not food. Steak is food. I just ate shit. And if you want to know, I took it."

"From where?" I ask him quickly. Maybe there is another food room that I don't know about that only serves you if you can find it. Like a secret cafeteria!

"Not from 'where'. From 'who'."

He sees my look of incomprehension and sighs. "I took it from another prisoner of course."

I give him an alarmed look. "Stealing is wrong!"

"What are they going to do? Send me to Impel Down to wait for my own execution? Wait. They already did that."

I shake my head slowly. Doesn't matter if you steal in prison. Stealing is not 'good behavior' so I can't afford to do that.

He sees that and laughs. "Life is all about give and take kid. Trust me, I know. It's about how willing you are to give, and if you are strong enough to take!"

"Who are you?"

He smiles. "Former Cipher Pol Three Agent: 'Tyranic Maw' Kuzric. Imprisoned for Treason."

"Did you do it?"

His face takes on an odd expression. One half of his face smiles and the other frowns. It's like the Comedy and Tragedy masks, and he's wearing both of them at once.

"No. But it doesn't matter. I confessed after all, so I'm to blame."

His face immediately goes back to normal. He spits on the ground, and I marvel about how he has enough liquid in his body to do that.

He begins to walk away, and for whatever reason I trail after him through the hot sands.