Callen & Evans' Prison

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Considering all the hardships borrowers go through in the average lifetime, Callen would consider himself to be one of the lucky ones.

Evidently, he didn’t have the favour of the gods themselves, since he would be born human otherwise. Still, life was good enough if you look at it from a borrower’s point of view. An old building that creaks and cracks whenever wind blows provides good cover for any mistakes he’d make. A large, empty two-story shophouse that only had one legal resident, which happened to be an old lady who had no fucks left to give after spending all of them in her early life, or so he assumed.

In this day and age, scoring a quiet place, no pets, no children, what more could Callen ask for as a borrower? He’d live his next few years in abundance and peace, at least until that old lady dies eventually. And that was something not worth worrying about for… at least a couple years or so.

One day, two residents in that house increased to a total of three.

It all started when Callen was doing mind-stimulating tasks, like doing the laundry. It was extremely mind-stimulating for Callen because his mind thinks of new ways to hate on the laundry. It goes without saying that Callen has an assortment of similar mind-stimulating tasks on his to-do list.

In the middle of hating on the fact that he had to wash, dry, and fold the laundry just so he could wear it once or twice at most, he heard a sound so rare he could probably count the amount of times it occured— the doorbell.

No way. The doorbell was actually used. Who would it be this time, Callen wondered. The mailman wouldn’t use a doorbell much. Maybe some dying friend visiting the dying lady to talk about their future deathness together so they can lie to each other that dying is fine. It wasn’t Chinese New Year yet, no one should be visiting around this time of year, though barely anyone visited the old lady he had started to doubt she had any family at all. He’d hope not, anyway, the idea of human children existing in his vicinity vexes him.

So, his final guess was a scammer trying to suck the remaining money out of the resident human before she croaked, or some other elderly woman to enjoy being old with.

Well, he noticed he was rather wrong, when the croaking old lady actually peeled her eyes away from the thousandth episode of some Taiwanese telenovela she had been watching almost every single day for the past three years, and walked to the door with renewed vigor. Callen swore if she were maybe ten years younger she would have skipped to the door like a little child.

Who was the person outside that made this old ass woman so excited anyway?

Turns out it was a man.

Wow. The old lady got bored of people her age, huh. Who knew she had such avant-garde tastes in men for someone her age. Not even someone her age too, this man was at most in his late twenties, she must have gone crazy from rotting in front of the television so often.

Then the man called her “grandma”, and Callen had to wonder what exactly made him jump to such an idiotic conclusion.

Definitely television.

Through a crack in the wall, Callen saw the figure trespass onto his sacred land of peace.

He looked like he was about to melt anytime soon. His golden hair looked matted and greasy from the sweat. His face was so flushed red he was sure he would die of a heat stroke in an hour. And no wonder he looked like that, he was wearing clothes that looked far too hot for someone to survive in this sweltering heat.

Callen felt that the new human looked familiar somehow, though he couldn’t put a finger on what exactly gave him such familiarity. Chalk it up to deja vu, who cares about some human. Sure he looked different from the other humans he had seen in his life, obviously he would be able to recognise that face if he had seen it before.

Either way, not the point. Callen’s task was to observe.

As time passed, the house gradually heated up from the blazing afternoon sun that seemingly made everything burn up like the contents of an oven, and Callen was included in those contents.

Wiping his sweat away with some cloth he got recently, he took notes of the new resident based on what he’d learnt from eavesdropping on their awkward chatting. Not that he’d forget it, there weren’t many things for Callen to remember, but just in case.

His name, according to the old lady who also was his grandmother, that Callen still found hard to believe, was… he glanced at his notes again. “Johnny”? Stupid ass name, but humans have a knack for coming up with stupid names, and Callen supposed Johnny would be one prime example of that. He came from somewhere far, but everywhere is far to Callen anyway, what else is new? He would be sleeping in the room next to totally-Johnny’s-grandmother, great! Far enough to ignore, and enough time to react if spotted exiting the room.

It was only Johnny’s personal schedule that bothered Callen. He didn’t know shit about him, and observing for a vague schedule takes a minimum of three days to figure out. He’d have to check his current supplies later to ensure his observation period would not be disrupted by something as mundane as hunger.

He pressed his ear against the wall to see if there was any information of value to Callen, but only the fictitious arguments of television characters were all he heard.

In his somewhat sorry excuse of a home, Callen noticed everything was everywhere, except one crucial item needed for survival: food.

He really shouldn’t have procrastinated.

He really should’ve chosen to go hungry tonight.

He really should’ve planned better.

The old lady must have rusted his skills so hard he would be crumbling into dust were he a metal pipe. There were so many shoulds and shouldn’ts he should have followed that he didn’t, and in the dead of night, the looming shadow would also soon pronounce him dead. Not even in the embrace of moonlight, for there was none on a new moon. On the bright side, he wouldn’t face death alone.

He stood on an elevated surface. A kitchen counter, which to Callen stood as high as the heavens from the ground. Somehow, humans are still taller than that, and he despised it. How nice it must have been to be god’s favourite species, to not need to suffer just to survive, while people like him risk their lives every waking moment for the hope of seeing tomorrow’s sunrise.

And Callen just lost that gamble. Yippee.

Who knows what a human would do with the knowledge of his existence. Probably not to eat him, why would they? They have plenty of better choices than what they would consider a rat in the walls. If he’s lucky, killed like a pest. Worst scenario, he would be the downfall of his species. Not that he cared, he was the one facing imminent death right now, not the rest of his kind he hadn’t met yet!

Right now, he was exposed on the surface. There was no cover, and any escape route within his immediate line of sight was also, sadly, within the human’s line of sight, with even more vision, since they saw things from above, high and mighty as they are.

Well, what’s done is done. A life of solitude and secrets will bore one eventually. Why not die trying?

Callen brandished his knife. “I can’t outrun you, but I will make it hard for you to catch me if you even think of trying.” He cautiously took a step backwards, one step closer to the walls, one step closer to safety.

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows. Of course the high and mighty human would find insolence in being commanded, their fragile egos crack over the smallest things, Callen for example.

“Sorry, you… could you say it one more time?” A slightly embarrassed request came from above.

In Callen’s extremely humble opinion, Johnny’s intellect might be as stupid as his name. Though why not, anything to delay his demise is a welcome one. To die trying is great, but to live trying is even better.

Hiding his slight confusion, he repeated his threat. “I said,” pointing his dagger at the unreachable visage far above him, “I will hurt you if you try to touch me.” Unfortunately nothing fatal, but hopefully discouraging.

“Okay, then I won’t.”

That somehow discouraged him more than Callen would expect. 

“But don’t run.”

Never mind, humans still suck. “What, too pussy to catch me yourself?” 

“...What does ‘pussy’ mean?” came the reply. Oh right, he is stupid, Callen forgot about that.

“...Are you stupid or is this not your first language?”

“I… don’t usually speak Mandarin at home,” came the shameful confession. Callen could almost feel the heat on that big face of his. “I use English more.”

Yep, that’s one idiot right there, and said idiot had all the power to do anything to him. Humans really are God's blessed. “Well then,” Callen said in fluent English, “This is a dream. You’re gonna wake up in bed and forget everything, because it’s a dream. Can you understand that much?”

“This isn’t a dream though.”

“I said it is.”

“Alright, it’s a dream then,” Johnny gave in to the propaganda. “In that case, pleasure to meet you on this hot, humid night. Care to join me for a midnight snack?” He waited for Callen’s reply, but the humid night air answered for him instead. After a while he added, “You won’t be the snack, I plan to have bread.”

There we go: the oldest trick in the book— lure a borrower with food, then capture them while they lower their guard. Like it was that easy to fool anyone. Literally rule two of basic education: Don’t trust whatever humans say, if you ever fail rule one. Rule one was obvious.

Yet from what happened in the last few minutes the human appears to be very ignorant. Or rather, plain stupid. Obviously his knife wasn’t going to do much, but somehow Callen remained untouched on the counter. Not complaining, but clearly he was outmatched yet he hadn’t taken advantage of it.

Again, not complaining, his days are numbered, might as well see how stupid a human can get.

“What’s in it for me?” 

“... A midnight snack?”

His stupidity was contagious, and it turned out Callen just caught terminal stage stupidity.

The twin pillars of arms rose into the air, easily opening the cupboard above to put a few slices of bread, each the size of a large bed to Callen, on the countertop, a series of actions that would have taken Callen at least ten minutes to complete.

Flexer.

“What do you want to have with the bread?” the idiot asked, like Callen actually planned to have supper with him. In a perfect world, maybe he would. But right now, Callen is a borrower subject to the unfair whims of a being so much more powerful than him, and a world in which he would accept to stay is an impossibility.

“Whatever you can find in the fridge.”

“Alright.”

The all-seeing gaze from above turned away, an arm splitting the immovable metal wall like it cost nothing. A gust of cold air and bright light spilled out from the interior, as the giant rummaged through the contents of the fridge.

With his attention diverted, Callen slipped into the shadows.

“...You alright with butter and kaya toast?”

Once upon a time, Evans read something somewhere that was along the lines of, you spend more than five years of your life…wait for it… waiting.

He ought to think it might be longer, wondered a very bored Evans, who kindly refused to wake a certain someone for entertainment, and wondered what his future had in mind for him. Could thinking about the future be considered as waiting for the future, in a way?

Maybe he should take matters into his own hands. But there’s no way he could do that, what could he have done, what could he even do now? What exactly could he do that actually could guarantee a way back for him, that preferably does not involve dying or being gravely injured, or both?

So he had to sit still and wait.

And wait.

And wait more.

And then what did he do again? Take another guess.

Wow, you were right! He waited.

Sometimes, Evans enjoyed idling around. But only sometimes, and only in certain situations did it feel nice to laze around. Like if, for example, there was a full laundry basket of clothes that were due for a wash.

Not so much in a situation where he happened to be stuck in a whole new world with many many things to see and wonder about and do nothing about. Even if you exclude the fact that he also needed to go home, he guessed, but look at the bright side! Brand new tourist destination!

Is bro cooked? Just walk the fuck out?

Where do I walk “the fuck” out?

You can try passing the gate if you don’t want to cross the knee high fence yourself.

He did remember there was more than just a lake and some lone cottage, which meant there was more than one large city. He just wouldn’t know for sure where exactly it was, because there was a long period of unconsciousness between being there and whatever goofy ass city this is. Evans could only pray that distances were as short as the people here.

Speaking of people, whose good idea was it to put him in this enclosure looking thing like an animal in a zoo? He was even less of an animal actually, they were at least provided bedding and means to clean themselves, this bloody cage had nothing! Human zoos were banned long ago, at least provide a tent or something, be for real.

It really was their fault nobody bothered to restrain his movement further, Evans thought with some amount of guilt, as he simply walked past the knee-high walls to roleplay as a rather intimidating tourist, not knowing his so-called “quiet” attempt at tiptoeing had woken up his sleeping companion.

-----

“...Sir, we discovered a foreign item close to Lake Etoile this morning.”

He never knew why those of armed forces spoke with such fascinating vocabulary. If they want to seem superior than commoners because they were legally allowed to wield weapons, do it outside of work hours.

Efficiency is key when it comes to battles, and this manner of speaking will have them all killed someday.

“The fuck is a foreign item? If it’s smuggled goods, just say it’s smuggled! Don’t waste my time by having me follow up with questions, do I look like a student in class?” demanded the fourth ranked soldier.

“No, sir, I merely used the term because it seemed the most accurate way to describe it,” the seventh ranked soldier replied quickly. “It is large, and we do not know what is inside it nor the nature of this…thing.”

“Hand me the seized items.”

“It might be difficult, sir. It would be easier to go there and see for yourself.”

In a while, he realised why. The simple answer is: it was indeed large.

This is something alien. He may not be well travelled enough to have seen wonders in other nations, though for sure he can confirm no other nation could have produced something with this appearance.

It was very large, comparable to the height of a house. That was the first thing he noticed. The second thing he observed was that most of the fabric material looked like…cloth? Sailcloth, maybe, with how coarse the fabric looked to him. But who could have had the money or resources to dye it completely black? And what were the other materials that created this?

He circled to the back, where he saw two long straps that connected top to bottom. Frankly, he couldn’t tell for what purpose it was for. Nor could he have understood the weird chain-looking things that ran through what he assumed was the top part of the structure.

If he had to assume it was something, the closest guess would be a bag. Yet it didn’t make sense. Why would one make a bag none could use?

Yet still, why does the design of it look so alien and absurd?

Doubts floated into his mind. What do his superiors know that he doesn’t yet? He is a fourth-ranker, after all. Why send him to a simple scouting mission and tell him nothing?

The fabric barely yielded when he poked at it with his sword. So, he could not figure out how to open it, nor could he force it open. At least, not with his strength.

He would likely attribute this item to being a relic of the divine himself, if he didn’t already doubt their existence in the first place. The gods have never interacted with mere mortals since the creation of the world, and they are most likely not doing so now.

“Sir, do you know what this is?” asked a soldier who had been following him since he arrived.

He did not.

“Send word to the General at once and inform him of this,” he said gravely, “For all we know, it could be a weapon that will destroy us all.”

The soldier, eyes wide open, managed to sputter out a “Y-yes sir!” before finding the nearest horse.

In the meantime, he would find a way to deliver this to the capital. It may not be his problem after, but it is something to worry about now.

How can one move a house?

------

Evans followed the trail that leads out of the city, from a certain distance. Someone was bound to see him otherwise, though anyone with decent eyesight probably would not miss the figure taller than trees.

Even as the sun had risen for quite some time, it was rather surprising that there were barely anyone still? Either they were all just that busy living normal lives, unlike him, or they weren’t early risers, also unlike him, for today at least.

The sun was also quite present, unlike where he lived. Maybe people just don’t appreciate what they’re given in abundance, who knows.

Feeling the sunlight on his skin was like someone giving him a hug, and he briefly wondered if anyone would give him a hug anymore.

…Probably not.

Occasionally he would come across a small village. Evans remained among the trees, quietly observing their daily lives.

He saw a mother kiss her children before they went to school, calling one of them back when he forgot his lunch on the table. A man checking the time, his hair a bit unkempt and his clothes somewhat wrinkled as he walked briskly, not stopping to pick up the oranges the old lady dropped when he bumped into her. A homeless man, attempting to stop the carriage nearby to ask for spare change, as the carriage drove off, its wheels splashing dirty water onto his rags.

He couldn’t get closer, and so he continued along the path.

As far as he knew, this world was rather medieval in terms of technology. That would, in fact, make communication and going home harder, if not downright impossible. Would they even believe the world is heliocentric, much less be able to build a plane?

Right. This could be a different world.

He didn’t believe isekais were real, but he couldn’t just rule out that possibility now, he guessed.

The towns and villages became rarer and rarer a sight as he walked, and soon there was nothing but woods and plains.

If there’s nothing, there’s no point in sightseeing anyway. Might as well return.

Just as Evans was about to turn around, he noticed movement further down the trail.

He could see loads of people, which was obviously always a bad thing if someone did not want attention. Even worse still, they looked like the bunch of people he met before he fainted and was brought to that human zoo-thing. Soldiers? Knights? The army? They all wore the same clothes to him, and he wouldn’t know unless he could speak to them either way.

The huge, at least relatively to the people of their scale, black blob they seem to be moving caught the attention of Evans’ eye, though. His bag!

And he thought he had lost it!

I mean I probably already lost it when I woke up here. Maybe he could have imagined a tiny psychiatrist, if they have already researched into the field.

Hiding be damned, his bag contained the only possessions he managed to salvage since he landed. Evans didn’t know how he lost that the first time, but he surely could not afford to lose it a second time.

He left behind the cover of the surrounding woods and slowly approached his target.

-----

The house-sized structure was fortunately not as heavy as a house.

The only problem it served was mostly, the fact that it was the size of a house. Because nothing is built for transporting something of that size…

Though eventually they figured it out. Don’t ask, nobody knows either.

Neither did they know when they saw a humanoid figure far away.

“Sir, is that the General?” one of them asked curiously.

He studied the distant form. It couldn’t be a merchant or a traveller, the figure carried nothing at all. Had he been travelling with nothing? It was intriguing, since it was unusual.

The form, still distant, was growing larger. He didn’t wear garments typical of a general’s uniform— where was the grand uniform decorated with sparkling medals they were ever so proud of?

The form grew larger still.

Why wasn’t he on a horse? Or a carriage? Surely the budget wasn’t so low to travel without one.

He trembled a little. What the fuck?

The sound of his breathing echoed inside him. The wind whispered in his ear and caressed his hair playfully. The leaves around him rustled.

“Prepare to defend.”

Why did he say that?

He saw a fellow soldier tremble, as did he. He wanted to tell them off for being cowards, but he trembled again.

Was it the ground trembling?

The trees agreed with another rustle of leaves.

Thump.

Thump.

THUMP.

Darkness befell, and a nameless figure, large enough to eclipse the sky, appeared before them.

The corridor Evans walked along seemed to last forever.

The walls were covered in yellowed flowery wallpaper, some of its edges tearing off. Occasionally, he would come across one or two picture frames. Some with the glass broken or fractured, some merely dusty and untouched for years.

None of them contained photos. But Evans didn’t care either. It wasn’t his place to judge how people decorated their buildings. Perhaps whoever owned this building just had something for empty frames.

The floor was lined with wooden planks. Evans could notice signs of glue— there might have been carpet flooring before someone removed it, albeit hastily. He loved the sturdy tapping noise it made when he walked on them. Wooden flooring was his favourite type of flooring, even if he didn’t really think about his flooring preferences that much.

No one put that much thought into flooring unless they were renovating a home, anyway.

He walked and walked, somehow never feeling any sort of fatigue, nor doubt, just wondering when he would reach the end. He didn’t question it when a door suddenly appeared before him when he walked two steps more.

Evans just opened it without a second thought.

The door opened to reveal a garden, where the sun was inviting, the birds were singing, and plants were blooming with vibrant coloured flowers. A girl with shoulder-length dark hair sat at a bench overlooking a pond. It reminded him faintly of that one park he visited in a very distant past he no longer remembered, for some reason.

The girl took notice of Evans, and beckoned him to sit beside her.

He obliged, curious of her identity.

She spoke first. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Evans replied politely, “May I ask if we had met before?”

“Definitely not, it’s my first time meeting you too,” she quickly replied, while handing him a sandwich. “Would you like a sandwich?”

“No, but thank you.”

“You can feed the ducks with it.”

“Alright then, thanks.” Evans took the sandwich, picking a few pieces to toss towards the ducks. They both watched as the ducks happily quacked and chased wherever the breadcrumbs landed.

There was silence between the two for a brief moment, while the ducks happily filled in the awkward silence with their excited quacking.

He looked at the mysterious girl, her gaze fixated on the ducks, not paying him much attention.

“May I know your name?” Evans suddenly blurted out.

The girl turned to look at him. She had a smile that reached her eyes, eyes that were just as dark as her hair. Is she Asian? Probably…? He was always so bad at guessing this type of thing.

Nothing prepared him for her answer, though.

“You may not.”

How the fuck does he respond to this? No one has ever answered this question this way, what the hell? Now it’s just awkward again because she replied with a silly answer that can’t even contribute to the conversation! Maybe the language barrier was better than this— at least there can’t be awkward conversations if there were no conversations in the first place.

Better to end it quickly in this case. “Um, alright then.” He wiped his hands on his pants to remove some sweat off it. Jesus Christ, this sucked.

“You can still ask me anything else, though,” she suddenly continued, a bit sheepishly, “like maybe questions you have thought about since your…current situation.”

“What current situation?”

“The crash, how you survived, all that stuff, I guess,” she clutched her pants tightly, and Evans noticed the areas she wiped her hands on were wet. Did she have hyperhidrosis too? He wondered briefly, but decided it was not what he thought appropriate to ask yet. “You don’t seem to enjoy it, which is understandable, but also a pity because I’d quite like to experience it once.”

“How did you know about that?” he demanded. Nobody should know about it…otherwise I would’ve been rescued by now. But excluding that, holy shit she is unhinged as fuck. Did she really just tell him “yeah, I want to experience a traumatic accident and be stranded in the middle of whatever for the rest of my foreseeable future”?

That may be a little insensitive, though he isn’t the type of person to give lectures about it, so he kept his mouth shut.

“I just know.”

Very helpful, slay queen or whatever. “I guess I tend to wonder how I survived. I mean, plane crashes tend to have very little chance of survival. I still wonder how I lived with just minor scratches here and there.”

“I love how all your questions are basically impossible for me to answer. But I don’t know. You just survived. We can pin the blame on magic if you’re really desperate for an answer.” You yourself said I could ask any other question! He thought. But if questions like this get pointless answers, he might as well ask another question that has higher chances of getting a concrete answer instead. She’s kinda crazy anyway.

She suddenly gave a light chuckle. Whatever, I guess.

“What’s the guy’s name?” Evans asked. “Like, y’know, the other little person stuck with me who also seems to kinda hate me too?”

“Callen.”

Her gaze focused on the ducks again. Callen. Evans finally knew something about the guy that isn’t just the hatred towards him. Would he eventually fix his horrendous relationship with Callen? He hoped for an answer, but didn’t ask her, for fear she said no and his fate would be set in stone the moment it was decreed.

“Have you spoken to Callen then?”

“Mhm. Just before talking to you, in fact.”

“So he’s here?” Evans asked excitedly. “You spoke to him, so you can translate for us, right? I’d like to be able to speak with him normally for once.”

“Ah,” the girl kind of mumbled, “not really.”

“Where is he, then?”

“With you.”

He looked around himself slowly, afraid he might just have killed someone on his person. “...No?”

“You know, you should probably drop the formalities and ask some better questions. Even though I already know what you plan to ask.”

“You do?” Then why don’t you just tell me what I want to know already instead of wasting my bloody time? Though this place was nice, and to his scale. Being normal probably was the closest reminder of home Evans could get now.

“Here’s an answer and a clue: Your family is fine. Mmm, maybe a little worried, I guess,” she said, “To return to Earth, there are infinite ways and zero ways at all.” Of course the clue was fucking useless. Oh well, there was one direct answer at least. “Thanks for giving no clues at all.”

She stood up and snapped her fingers. “You should probably go back now.”

“Wait wh—”