cold | k.s.b

003

I wake up with a bad case of mental fatigue. The fog must have put all the players asleep. They want to keep the location a secret. My father said that's what our superiors did when people needed to meet them. They couldn't risk the location getting out due to the job being as dangerous as it is. But why would these people need to do that for a few harmless competitions?

A very familiar classical song plays through loud speakers in each corner of the room. I look around and see at least 300 beds all around me. They are stacked on top of each other like bunk beds, except there are seven beds stacked together rather than two. My bed is at the bottom of one of the towers. At least I won't have to walk down a ton of stairs straight after waking up every morning. 

I look to my left and right and see everyone waking up and adjusting to the new space, same as me. Some people look confused, others nervous. I don't understand either of these emotions. It's simple. We sleep in bunk beds, we play games, we win money. I don't think it's that hard to comprehend.

I get out of bed and stand up to get a better look of what we are dealing with here. I glance towards the center of the room and see a huge board close to the ceiling. It resembles a television, but much bigger. It reads that there are 456 players in the contest. Quite a lot of people who are desperate for money.

I scan my eyes around and see everyone wearing the same outfit. I must be too. I look down to see that I am wearing green pants, almost teal, with a jacket the same color. My shirt is white and has a number written in a big, green font.

375. Jesus Christ. The same number of kills before I was caught. The memories of last night come flushing in. 

Before I get too far into thought I hear a booming commotion coming from the center of the room. Though I can't see what's going on due to almost all of the players circling the noise.

"You little shit" I hear a man shout before hearing a small sound followed by gasps among the crowd. I know that noise very well. Someone was just punched. If I'm able to hear it from where I stand, the odds of it drawing blood are very high. I make my way to the crowd and start shoving my way through. If anyone objects, I shoot them a glare. Every person I push past seems to know who I am and steps out of the way to avoid getting on my bad side. 

Once I am in front of the swarm of people I see two people. One being a man. He's tall and big, with hair that he seems to have let grow out. But his most defining characteristic is a snake tattoo, that seems to slither from his neck to the side of his face.

 The other being the girl from the van. 

There she was, though she didn't seem nearly as peaceful. She had light brown eyes which I wasn't able to see earlier, and full lips that had fresh blood on them. Guess I was right.

"It really is a small world isn't it? Look at those eyes, guess you still have that temper" The man pants out. The girl doesn't seem shaken by him.

"But no one ever broke your spirit you could always take a hit." He pauses for a moment. As if he is waiting for the girl's response. She gives him nothing, so he continues on.

"I took care of you, I fed you, I taught you when you had nowhere else. This is what I get? " He asks her angrily. He sounds like my father. Trying to manipulate me into thinking he was a good person. I hope the girl doesn't fall for it.

"You took more from me then whatever I might possibly owe you" She spits out. She's smart. A lot smarter than him.

"If all that's true how come you ran then?" He questions. He's smirking at her but anyone can see right through his tough guy act.