Steam billowed onto the cobbled streets of the city of Time, mingling with the smog and smoke from the nearby steam locomotive. Kurt coughed, narrowing his eyes against the clouds of dust before crossing the street, boot heels clicking on the cobblestones. The shadow of the TimeKeep, the most notorious prison in all of Gear, loomed over the whole city. It always gave Kurt shivers and he loathed to look at its black surface and rusted gears. His mother had been taken by the timekeepers when he was eight, and everyone knew that whoever went into the TimeKeep never came back out. It was not only a place for criminals, but they sent the people who were considered “pure” and “good” because as the TimeKeeper (head of the TimeKeep) and the ChronoMayor always said, there can never be too much good in a place. It was why they had taken Elizabeth Hummel, and Kurt and Burt both hated and feared the prison.
Bells jangled as Kurt opened the door to Hummel’s Clock Repair Shop, the air musty and the scent of burning candles cloying. A flickering bulb hung from the ceiling, but its meager light did little to illuminate the place. A bespectacled bald man looked up from a watch, smiling grimly when he recognized Kurt.
“Hey, kiddo. How was school?” the man, who was, of course, Kurt’s father, Burt Hummel. Kurt made a sound of irritation.
“Same as usual. Depressing, like the rest of this city. I wish we could get out of here, go to Whittleton Village or something, and see trees. Trees, dad! Imagine that. Life and fresh air!” Kurt sighed, shrugging off his overcoat and hanging it behind the counter. Burt gave Kurt a sympathetic smile, patting his son’s shoulder.
“Your mother always made me go visit her family in Whittleton Village. We took you once, you were about six, and boy, you loved it there, throwing yourself on the grass and climbing up trees and stuff. You looked so damn happy,” Burt shook his head softly, rubbing his bald head when the bells on the door jangled. Two men dressed entirely in black, with tall top hats and somber expressions walked in, stepping in unison. Burt froze when his eyes fell on the gear pin with the intricate clock hands that shone on their black overcoats. The taller man’s mustache twitched and Kurt swallowed loudly, unable to shake the bad feeling that grew.
“Sir Burt Hummel?” The shorter man asked. Burt wasn’t even given a chance to reply.
“I think you know why we’re here,” The taller man’s sunken eyes darted towards Kurt, who hugged himself. Burt took several deep breaths, hands trembling.
“Not the boy. Please, not the boy. You already took his mother, don’t take him,” Burt pleaded, his voice cracking and quaking. Kurt quivered behind his father, tears stinging his eyes. The shorter man let out an irritated sigh, for which the taller man gave Burt a sympathetic look.
“We have no choice,” said the taller man. Burt barred their way, glaring at the men.
“No. You’re not taking him!” he growled. The shorter man took out a laser gun, stunning Burt. Kurt screamed, catching his father’s limp body. The shorter man pried him off, grunting in effort when Kurt lashed out. The taller man caught his arms, dragging Kurt out onto the street. A gag was placed on Kurt and a blindfold covered his eyes, leaving him no choice but to let the uniformed men lead him on for what seemed forever. Tears wet his cheeks and grit stuck to the wet trails. The sun beat down on them and soon Kurt’s throat was parched. His lips began to crack and his head throbbed, but still the men led him on. He stumbled several times, but their grips never slackened. They walked for at least an hour, and though Kurt tried to figure out where they were by sound, all he could think about was his father, lying on the floor of the shop.
Finally, a cold breeze hit Kurt’s face and the air turned dank and chilly. He shivered, pulling his arms closer to his body only to have the men pull them away again. It seemed they were constantly going downhill, and down they went for half an hour before Kurt’s blindfold was pulled off.
“Welcome home, angel,” the shorter man snickered, pushing open a steel door before them. Kurt whimpered, but his gag worked well and no sound escaped. On the other side of the door was a ledge, and a wide open space was beyond that, with walls so wide and long they disappeared into the darkness (it wasn’t a very well lit place to begin with). The shorter man pushed him in, but Kurt resisted, digging his feet as much as he could into the metal floor, fighting their every push. He cried and yelled but all sound was muffled by his gag. With one final push the men threw him on the floor, closing the door behind him. Sharp pain shot up his elbow and ribs, but he didn’t dare move for a long time, curling himself up into a ball and tugging on the gag until it gave way. Sobs shook his chest and small whimpers escaped his tear stained face until he ached and shivered from being on the cold metal floor, but he still didn’t move, not even when the sound of creaking gears and levers being cranked echoed loudly in the TimeKeep.