Let the Games Begin

Chapter 21

A ringing headache woke Opal up. Opal scanned her surroundings. She was tied masterfully to a pole in a concrete room. She had gained at least three more severe injuries. She was cold, aching, and hurt. That- That person... Opal just shuddered at the thought.

"Looks like you've woken up." said a silky voice. Opal looked up. The man in black who murdered her mother was right in front of her.

Opal snarled and, despite her injuries, lunged at her mother's murderer, but the ropes held her back.

"You wish there weren't ropes on me right now." She growled.

"But there are ropes on you," smoothly interrupted the murderer. "I am," the murderer paused for suspense. "Mort,"

"Death in French," Opal whispered, dread filling her up. She kept her eyes on Mort but shifted slightly to get a grip on her knife.

"Good. Very good. I assume your mother taught you that?" Mort asked innocently. He's playing with me. Like a mouse under a cat's claw. Don't show any emotions. Opal gripped the knife and slowly cut through the ropes.

"You assumed correctly," Opal said with a steady voice. Opal jumped up, the ropes falling behind her. Mort's eyebrows went up a bit. A bit, but enough for Opal to see. Impressed, are you? She started to circle him, her knife held in front of her. Mort matched her step by step, brandishing his knife. She let her eyes look to his left then lunged to his right. A split second. That's all it took for Mort to counterattack, his knife clashing against hers. Sidestep. Lunge. Counter. Follow in with my body. Duck. Lunge. Jump. Swipe. The two kept fighting, an even match. They danced like it was a dance. Some of their blows hit. Some didn't. They kept dancing, their steps matching their opponent's. This is never going to end. Opal thought desperately as her energy slowly drained away. Opal was injured, but Mort was not. This fight was not going to be equal soon. Let's hope that Fern, Max, and Thomas come. Hah. They won't. They won't hear my blackbird call at all. But Opal still cawed like a blackbird, refusing to be hopeless. Stab. Mort stabbed Opal in the shoulder. I'm going to lose.

"You're going to lose. Why not give up now?" Mort asked sweetly as he pinned Opal to the concrete floor.

"I'm not losing," says Opal, struggling against the knife that is pointed at her neck. Mort pushed the knife ever so slowly. Blood dripped from the wound. He's not gonna make this a quick death. Opal thought as she gritted her teeth. Opal just having fun with her Mom. A tear trickled down her cheek. Opal laughing hysterically with Fern. Another tear. Was this what people meant when they said you see your life flashing before your eyes? Opal kissing Thomas. Another tear. "Your powers finally decided to come out, huh?" Opal looking at Peridot through narrowed eyes. "USE YOUR POWERS!" The ringing voice blasted through her head, and Opal clutched her head. How? How? "YOU KNOW HOW. USE YOUR POWERS!" The mysterious voice in her head yelled. I don't! "THINK OF LAST TIME!" Last time? Last time I used my powers because I was just overwhelmed. "USE THAT! THINK OF YOUR EMOTIONS." Okayy... Well. I'm feeling pretty tired. Hurt. Sad. Hopeless. Grief. Helpless. Anger. Hunger. "GOOD. KEEP GOING." Revenge. Hope. Frustration. "GOOD!" Opal's pendant started glowing and Mort seemed confused.

"What is your pendant doing?" Mort asked, confused and scared. The light glowed brighter and brighter. Then it did something. It talked to Opal.

"At your service, master." The pendant said. And like instinct, Opla knew what she had to do. She harnessed the pendant's power and light and trained all the power on Mort.

"Just two words, master. You know them." The pendant said.

"No! No! NO! I have a family! I need to feed them! STOP!!" Mort yowled as the light started to circle him. Opal stood up, and feeling somewhat compassionate for Mort, she asked.

"What family?" Her voice was cold, calculating, and revengeful. Her compassion was drying out soon.

"I-I have a wife and a daughter! Please!" Mort yelled, covering his head with his hands.

"What is your daughter's name?" Opal demanded. A burning question lay in the back of her mind. Is-Is she his daughter? They look related...

"Jane. But my wife, Clementine, called her Fern sometimes. But she ran away a year ago" The world seemed to crack. One thing left to do now... Opal brandished her blunt knife.

And stabbed Mort in the heart.