Here you go!
The man named Gold lifted his head. He was chained to the ground, trapped in a permanent kneel by two metal clasps clamped over each of his calves. Chains connected to two tall, thick, wooden beams held up his arms relentlessly. These chains coiled around his wrists, ever-threatening to slither down his arms like pythons. His clothes indicated that he had not been there for too long. His white shirt had little dirt on it, and only the cuff of his left sleeve was torn. The knees of his pants were dusty from being against the floor and his shoes were scuffed from his futile attempt to escape that had taken place only a few hours previously. This man, the one named Gold lifted his head, a few strands of his blonde hair falling across his face and partially obscuring his view. He lifted his head because his cell door opened and his captor, Mr. Smith, walked in, his cane swinging back and forth like a pendulum as he moved. The cane was black, thin, wooden and sturdy. At the top of the cane, a shining silver globe was attached, which Mr. Smith gripped in his black leather gloves. His eyes were dark, along with his hair, which was slicked back. He wore a sharp midnight blue suit, a matching trilby and a shiny pair of black loafers. He set his cane down; making sure it was safely leaning against the wall of the small cell. He then took his gloves off, slowly and deliberately. He tucked the gloves into his right jacket pocket. He took his hat off and placed it on the top of one of the wooden beams. He then picked his cane up again. He looked at the one named Gold for a long time. So long, that Gold lost interest and lowered his head again. At this Mr. Smith sighed and rolled his eyes.
‘Gold, do you have anything to say to me?’ he asked. Gold lifted his head again, slower, chuckling softly. His golden eyes twinkled.
‘Just one little thing. Does this mean you play the game by my rules now?’ If Gold was scared or intimidated in any way, his voice certainly didn’t show it. On the contrary, he sounded confident. Like he knew something. Mr. Smith repressed a scowl.
‘Not just yet, Gold. I still have the moral high-ground.’ Mr. Smith said. Gold laughed.
‘Yes, I hate to say it, but I’ve never kidnapped and chained someone in a prison cell.’ Gold sneered up at his adversary. ‘That’s right, you stooped lower than-‘ Gold was cut off by the silver orb of Mr. Smith’s cane connecting with his chin.
‘Quiet.’ Mr. Smith said, his voice cold. Gold spat blood and giggled. It wasn’t a schoolgirl giggle, it was a dark one. It was filled with experience, and despite Gold’s young appearance, Mr. Smith knew that he had spent more time on the Earth than most. A lot more. Gold smirked up at him again.
‘Do you think you have me in your grasp, Smith? Do you really?’ Gold asked, his aplomb never failing. Their eyes met, and, for a split second, you could sense the tension between them.
‘Of course I do.’
‘Interesting.’ Gold’s tone expressed the kind of interest a child has in finding a rock. Very little, in other words. Mr. Smith himself chuckled this time.
‘What makes you think you aren’t trapped?’
‘Because you’re going to let me go.’ Gold said, lowering his gaze to the floor.
‘Oh am I? Tell me, punk,’ Mr. Smith lifted Gold’s head with the tip of his cane, ‘Why would I do that?’ Gold grinned, his teeth a disturbing pink hue from his blood.
‘Because you fear me.’ Gold beamed like this was the most exciting piece of information ever divulged. Mr. Smith's authority was lost, for only a second. As soon as the moment of weakness came, it was gone. But a second was all Gold needed. He tilted his head back and cackled.
'You think you're so big, Smith!' he screeched. 'You think you're so upright and proper!' Gold was now laughing so hard and so loudly that he couldn't finish saying his words. Each laugh shook his body, he was sobbing from the intensity, but still he laughed. On and on, louder and louder. Slowly, little by little, Gold calmed. His head hung down, his body suspended by the chains.
'What was the word you used? Debonair? No. That's what I am.' Gold giggled, a high-pitched, mad sound. 'You called yourself civil. Tell me,' he snapped his head up, 'Does this look civil to you?' he asked quietly. Mr. Smith hesitated. Gold lunged forward, rattling the chains and making Mr. Smith recoil.
'Does it!?' he yelled. Mr. Smith slammed his cane down.
'Enough! Enough of your mind games!' Mr. Smith shouted. Gold tilted his head, an eyebrow arched.
'What's wrong Smith? Immortality not what you expected? Everyone goes mad, boy. But I- We- have time. Time to learn how to hide it.' Gold said, licking his lips. 'And once we learn how to hide our madness, we can take the world. Make it our own.'
'Be quiet, Gold.'
'You lack vision!' Gold screamed. His face had gone red, the veins on his forehead bulging out, his eyes darting back and forth, from Mr. Smith to his cane to his gloves to his hat to Mr. Smith once more. His mouth was twitching, like it was charged with electricity. A nervous laugh escaped his lips at random. Mr. Smith shook his head. He pulled his gloves back on and picked his trilby up from atop the beam.
'You were wrong. You're staying here.' Mr. Smith muttered, dusting the bottom of his hat. He placed it on his head delicately and took his cane. He reopened the door to exit the cell. He stepped through and looked back, pulling it closed.
'Before you go...' Gold said quietly, completely still. Mr. Smith stopped the door, an inch from shut.
'You play by my rules now.'
Oh yeah! I also have three questions, which I beg for you to answer.
One: Is it good?
Two: Who do you feel sympathy for at the beginning of the story?
Three: Who do you feel sympathy for at the end?