I lay curled up on the cold tiles of my room; hungry and disorientated.

Hill had separated Bryce from me and whisked us away to our cells without the explanation I knew he wanted to give on my father's grand betrayal. I didn't know if Bryce was alive or still lying cold and hungry somewhere else, but it had been days since I last had contact with the outside world. There was no window in the tightly spaced cell, but a sliver of sunlight would have been very comforting to me.

A meal, usually cold, would appear every so often from a thin slit under the door. The space between them seemed like forever, but I found it was a good way of keeping track of time.

My mother's face came in and out of my mind today as I lay on my back, picking at the bits of skin around my nails. Her smile only existed in a few ripped photographs my blind father was too blind to even see anymore. They sat, high up on the mantelpiece like a tribute. A tribute that never made any sense to me.

Our old apartment block wasn't much. A few drab white walls, an elevator that never seemed to work and a gang of peace-loving drug addicts taking over the back staircases. But none of that mattered because she was gone. The moment she could, she fled, not caring about the family she left behind. The crippled father and his faithfully protective daughter.

I always believed she was lying dead in a gutter somewhere, but I guess she figured she would survive better with a bottle of gin than with her own kin. I frowned.

"Why is it that she left?"

"Who?"

I jumped, backing up against the wall of my cell. I hadn't expected a reply, yet here, a young girl stood gazing down at me, a bowl of hot oats cupped in her hands. Her hair was placed in a rushed bun below her right ear and her petticoat was a dull brown – much like mud.

"You were speaking aloud, miss," she said as she knelt before me. "Here eat this. He wants to see you in five minutes."

She placed the bowl of steaming oats and a wooden spoon on the floor next to me and turned to go. She was harmless. Perhaps she knew something? I'd sat in here for days without knowing a damn thing and it was time I pried someone for them.

"What happened to my friends?" I said after her, unravelling myself towards the hot oats.

She stopped dead in her tracks and gulped before she cautiously looked over her shoulder. "I'm not allowed to speak of this.... Miss."

"Surely you know something?"

Her eyes darted across the room. "I will be in trouble." She scooted out of the entrance, slamming the door behind her and bolting it.

Puzzled, I scoffed the porridge a little too quickly. It wasn't long before I was puffing like a dragon as the sludge burnt my mouth. I tried to cool it down with as much oxygen and saliva as I could manage, and eventually I just swallowed it whole.

Bad idea, Ellie. I scowled. I still didn't know what happened to Bryce and Matthew, and all this thinking was driving me out of my mind. Hill would come soon enough, bored himself of getting useless answers from the boys.

Perhaps the best course of action was to slowly leak the information to him? At least until I figured out how to escape?

I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as the doors' bolts were clunked open. The door swung open on its hinges and two Officers appeared in the doorway to the little room looking affirmative yet lost.

"Stand," one of them ordered. I followed his instructions as he barked them out into the stale air. "Turn around. Hands behind your back."

A thin plastic zip tie was applied to my joint wrists and I was led out into the artificial light of a hallway. I squinted, my eyes burning at the glare. It blinded me as I stumbled over my feet and through the maze of hallways.

"Bryce! Matthew?" I called out.

"Shut up!"

"Anyone?"

"I said, shut up!" an Officer said as he smacked the back of my head.

I drew my lips into a thin line until we stood awkwardly outside the door to Sergeant Hill's office. The door was varnished and a deep red oak colour with a golden plaque sitting propped on the left-hand side of the double doors. A pair of waiting Officers went ahead and pushed them open for us.

Oh, how kind. At least some people in here have manners!

I grimaced. Inside, the office was a shining example of hygiene. A few potted plants sat in various positions around the expanse of the room, and the large open window filtered in a harsh sunlight. In the centre of the room, a very content Sergeant Hill sat at a cleared wooden desk plated with exotic food. Salads, roasted pigs and pasta dishes by the dozens lined the table in the most magical display I had seen in a long time. He watched me enter as he ripped apart a large crayfish and began chewing at the slightly tough meat cradled inside the shell.

"Take a seat," he said, his mouth half-full. He gestured towards a vacated seat and turned his attention towards an Officer. "Take those cuffs off her. She'll need them to eat. And tell Winston to get the others. We have much to discuss."

He smiled over at me as the restraint was clipped off and I cautiously seated myself down opposite him. My stomach rumbled with anticipation, despite having just eaten.

"Please, take something. You must be hungry," he said as he chewed the last of his crayfish and picked another from the dish in front of him. "Do you prefer miso soup or spit roasted pig's ear? Or perhaps a light appetiser of mango and apple salad will please your palette?"

Neither sounded good.

"Oh, get the girl a drink!" he exclaimed. A maid hurried over and quickly filled up a crystal glass laid out in front of me. A sparkling red liquid splashed up the sides of the glass as she poured in the contents of her gold-plated jug. "Oh, don't look so bleak, Ellie! It's just the latest culinary make. Sparkling red wine! Enjoy!"

He winked and I nodded. Alcohol was something I never touched, nor wanted too. Perhaps it was a fine acquired taste I was yet to develop, but either way I knew I didn't want to be drunk whilst in the presence of Sergeant Roland Hill - my father's greatest enemy.

"Go on..." he taunted.

I gulped and picked up the glass between my fingers. Slowly, I raised it to my lips and downed the fizzy liquidated grape in one go. The salty tang remained strong on my lips as I placed the glass back down. A dizzy feeling swept over me and I rubbed the bridge of my nose in angst.

"How have you found your room?" he asked. "Good I hope?"

I made no gesture, my mind swirling patterns across my vision.

"Ahhh," he said, "You're wondering where they are. Well, look no further. Boys! Come join the feast!" he beamed, waving them over. "We have much to discuss!"

They looked exceptionally good and both had been remarkably cleaned up in the short expanse of time we'd been separated. Bryce held his injured arm in a sling and had a few healing bruises. He walked with a slight limp, but otherwise looked fine. Matthew's purple face was all but gone and his erratic behaviour seemed to have tamed as they made their way over to the food laden table.

Bryce slid in beside me, instantly aware that something was wrong. His hand found my knee and I glanced at him. He nodded. I wished I could see the damage done to his chest, but now wasn't the time for that. Hill wanted my tipsy brain to spill where the book was.

I knew this trick well.

"Now that we are all here, I would like to propose an idea to you all," Hill said, licking his lips and wiping his hands on a napkin.

The table was filled with a fearful silence.

"As I'm sure you're all aware by now, there has been a great build-up of excitement within our great city. You must have played Kill the Drone as children? No?"

Our lips remained sealed.

"Hmmm, I thought so." He smiled. "Well, we are starting a tournament! Now, you must be wondering why?"

I tensed up. Last time I'd played Kill the Drone, Allan had died. My old wounds ached at the memory of it, and for some reason, Bryce sensed this change in me. His hand squeezed my leg, grounding me back to the table. I glanced up at him, catching Matthew in my peripheral vision.

A scowl plastered onto his face as he stared at Bryce. There was something he was missing from the exchange, but it was clear he didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was the fact that I blamed him so readily for this mess?

"Well, we are now in the presence of great warriors, no? A bounty hunter? And a girl with the will to defy me?"

There was hesitation as we ceased up.

The Sergeant waved his hand. "Well, you will be the first participants to trial our new arena in a grand opening showcase!"

We were to be sacrificial lambs for him. Was this his way of getting the information from me? By making me believe I was going to die?

"Well, say something!"

"Th-thank you, sir. A great honour no doubt," Bryce's shaky voice replied through the tension. It shattered the raw feelings hanging dry in the air like glass.

"Indeed, it is my boy. You are, after all, a fantastic player of the game. We have old recordings of you," he turned to me, "and you too my dear. Am I wrong?"

"No, sir," Bryce said, glancing across at me. His deep blue eyes held sympathy. He knew he was my voice. I couldn't speak, not now anyways.

"Now that we have that surprise sorted," he said joyfully, raising his glass. "A toast! To our new fighters!"

----------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading another chapter! If you enjoyed, be sure to leave a vote and comment!! ~H.W.