Axton's playlist:

▪︎ Skrillex - Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites
▪︎ Rancid - Time Bomb
▪︎ Nancy Sinatra - Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)
▪︎ Bedlam - Magic Carpet Ride
▪︎ Jack Nietzsche - The Last Race
▪︎ George Baker Selection - Little Green Bag
▪︎ Brother Dege - Too Old To Die Young
▪︎ Cage The Elephant - Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Axton

I feel my consciousness rising to the surface. As I roll on my bed I become more aware of my surroundings. The kitchen floor creaks and whispers soar through the air. What the fuck? I think I see a black figure walking past my door, but my eyes must be deceiving me. I must be still dreaming. I am home alone, aren't I?

I lift my body from the mattress, leaning against my elbows and try to focus. Hell, I shouldn't have drunk so much bourbon last night. My vision is blurry and the room is spinning. Abruptly, my elbows falter and I slump back. I'm too inebriated and drowsy to gather my thoughts so I turn towards the window and try to go back to sleep.

In one fell swoop, everything turns black. I raise my hands to my eyes and touch cold, silky cloth. My fingers reach further and meet leather gloves. Gloves that are pressing the darkness onto my eyes. I try to move my legs but they are immediately pinned down. I shake and kick in an attempt to free myself from these human hand shackles with no luck. All my efforts to squirm out of their grasp is useless. I scream and all the air leaves my lungs.

I feel different touches belonging to at least three different pairs of hands on my skin. And then, a rag is shoved into my mouth. The fabric is wet and an ether-like smell exudes from it. I taste a sweet liquid, and little by little I am knocked out unconscious.

I wake up fully clothed and my throat and mouth feel like on fire. I lift my head up only to bump it on metal. Shit! The blindfold is still on, making everything pitch black; although I suspect things would be as dark without it. I'm crammed into what feels like a trunk of a big car. As I move my arms to hit the walls for help I realize they're tied with tape, and so are my ankles.

The vehicle seems to be moving and taking an occasional turn as I am tossed around the small enclosure. My ears touch the felted wall I judge to be the one closest to the inside of the car. I slow my breath and focus. At first, I only hear mumbles however, after some seconds I can make out some words.

"Have the others arrived?" a slightly familiar voice asks.

"I am not sure, but we're quite close to the warehouse. Only a few more minutes," the other responds.

Fucking hell, warehouse? Who are these people? And as sudden and violent as a bolt of lightning that sets a tree on fire, it hits me: the Circle. The Golden Circle. It has to be it.

Ever since I said yes to it, I haven't heard back from either of them. Taken it has been days since I last talked to any of them, I thought that to be quite curious as I'd been expecting instructions for the so-called initiation. But taking this situation into consideration, I reckon instructions might've never been on the table at all.

The car halts suddenly and I am tossed towards one of the walls yet again. Fuck. If I come out of this concussion free, I'll be one lucky bastard.

The slight throbbing of my forehead does not help with the tossing and turning of my stomach. The last thing I need is to vomit in here and get stuck with my foul-smelling inside contents for God knows how long.

A strong gust hits me on the face and I realize the door has been opened. A hand grabs my collar scratching and marking the skin underneath, and next, I am thrown outside. My right shoulder blade hits concrete sending pain through my arm, giving me a severe jolt.

"Fuck!" I manage to say.

"Don't be such a pussy, Ax," one of the men says.

"You've got to be shitting me. Killy?"

"Took you long enough mate. It was about damn time!" He removes the blindfold and flashes a smile. "C' mon, the show's about to start."

I scratch my eyes with the back of my hands, I wish they would untie me.

"Aren't you going to let me loose?" I look between the three of them. Killian, Zane, and Wilder are wearing all black. Their dark hoodies are hiding part of their faces. Not suspicious at all wandering around like kidnappers.

I notice Nicolas isn't here. "Where's Nicky?" My brows knit together. "What the fuck are we doing here anyway?" I do my best to stand up, but my legs feel like jelly and I falter.

Zane grabs my arm and with his support, I am able to stand. "Patience, young grasshopper. You're about to go on a magic carpet ride." There's something wicked about this smile.

My mouth falls open. "What does that-"

"Dude, don't worry. Nicky's not here 'cause he's met some chick, so he's probably still with her. About the rest... you'll have to see it for yourself. Time to move." Wilder pops a knife out of his pocket and cuts the tape binding my legs and arms then, motions me to a room inside the warehouse.

The floor to roof steel double doors slide with a screech. The light rusty patches go up like veins on the once silver surface.

Inside, the place is lit only by candlelight, giving it a church vibe to the ambient. In the middle, there are fours chairs, three already filled. The fourth has my name on it, so I sit. I look around and there are at least other fifty or so sinister figures standing around us, all in black and with hoods on. Great, this shit's not ominous at all.

The one I assume is Killian takes the front. Is he running this thing?

He slides the hood off and shows his features, it's Killy alright. He begins, "hello to all, ladies and gentlemen, Goldens and wannabes, welcome to this year's event." He theatrically opens his arms as if the show is about to begin. What a tosser.

"As you all surely know by now, we run things with an iron fist around here. Our rules are very strict. One perfect example is that every pledge has to be backed up and sponsored by four members. It's protocol and we'll verify that first. Pledge number one, say your name for the record, please."

"Collin," a somewhat small guy proclaims proudly. He tosses his side-parted hair even more to the side and smiles pleased with his performance.

"And who's sponsoring Collin?" Killian asks.

"Stephanie," says a petite golden-haired girl, rolling her eyes.

"Robert," another man says.

"Finn," a very lean and tanned guy says taking a bow and letting his curls go wild. Very thespian.

"Logan," says a short man with his blonde hair up and tousled flashing a sly smile.

Pledge number two is a woman, Alexa, in her twenties, with big green eyes that remind me of a fish's. Her fingers grasp the edge of her seat so intensely her hands are overflowing with blood.
Pledge number three is also a man, like pledge number one, but much taller, long curls down the shoulders. His poor neck is so moist he constantly rubs it in a failed attempt to look composed. Liam is his name.

After they go through the same ritual, it's my turn. It's only then I realize I have three and not four standing with me. Nick is still nowhere to be seen.

Killian turns to me. "Pledge number four, state your name for the record."
I stand up. "Axton." I feel stiff as a board, as sore as a rugby player after being tackled repeatedly and as uncomfortable as a mouse in a trap.

"And who is sponsoring Axton?" Killy asks.

"Zane."

"Wilder."

"Killian," he intervenes himself.

I put my head down. I cannot look. What the fuck happens if I don't have another one? Do I talk about Nicolas? Do I defend myself? Nah, that's not going to-

I feel a warmth on my shoulder. A soft touch I am familiar with.

"Briar." My beautiful sister flashes a smile.

My chin drops and my eyes widen in disbelief. "What?" I word to her.

She lifts her hand, comes closer and whispers in my ear, "later little brother. You need to finish this first."

I nod my head and before I have any time to process, our Ringleader gets on with his spectacle.

"Now we're all accounted for, we'll officially start. See, you all have tasks to accomplish. Let's call them challenges."-Killy lifts up a green velvet bag--"There are four of them in here, one for each of you, pledges. You will choose one envelope and one only. Within the envelope, there'll be the name or your challenge and a number. The number is the order in which you'll do it. You all follow?"

We all nod.

"Swell. So, one challenge will be held at a time and with an audience. Yes, we will all be here watching you. You will only receive instructions when your time comes. Some require the assistance of Goldens, in that case, further instructions will be given.

"Now, we'll start with pledge number one. Remember to read your task and number out loud for us all."-Killian turns to Collin--"Ready, Collin?"

Collin's hand shakes but he closes his eyes and reaches into the bag. He slides his hand out of it with a golden envelope in his grasp. He opens then reads, "Red Russian, 2."

When it's Alexa's turn, she reads, "Something fishy, 3."

What the hell is up with these names?

Liam reads his, "Pinky promise, 1."

That leaves me with whatever is number four.

"Ready, Axton?" Killy asks.

"Ready for anything." I take a deep breath and reach for the lonely envelope. When I open it reads "Why did the chicken cross the street? 4."

Killian's posture is straight and he smiles satisfied. "Remember kids, do or do not. There's no try."

In the crowd, someone screams, "In omnia paratus!"

"In omnia paratus!" They all proclaim in unison.