Us and Them

No Chances

The door to the cell slid open, Josh's most anticipated time of day. He and Dallon had been compiling information of their cage for a few days now, scraps of paper hidden under their mattresses with shift changes, weak links, and general operating procedures. The two of them walked in silence to the day room. A small library of books lined one of the walls, a set of four computers on the other. In the center of the room were a pool table and a few seating areas for people to hang out and watch the TV's mounted across from them.
Dallon parted from his side, finding a computer furthest he could from cameras while Josh made himself interested in a pool game.

"Sisky, I thought you were supposed to be good at this!" A tall man snapped, the other rolling his eyes.

"You gotta trust the process, Gabe. Remember which one of us got brought in for hustling in the first place." Sisky replied, racking off another terrible shot that sent the eight ball careening toward the far right pocket. "See! Now we lost because you had to run your mouth!"

The victors took their winnings, which the currency was poker chips, and smirked as they walked away from the table. Gabe let out an exasperated sigh, digging around in his pocket and finding his last remaining chips. Then, he scanned the small audience for a sucker to get in on the next game.

"Ah! New guy! Why don't you show Sisky how to play this game properly, huh?" Gabe grinned, eyes locking with Josh.

"Uh, no, I'm alright. I don't have anything to put down anyway." Josh insisted, but Gabe had already approached him. The taller put an arm around his shoulder.

"Well, here's your chance to make something. Matter of fact, if you win, I'll let you have whatever Sisky makes off tomorrow's game too."

Sisky opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again with a huff. Josh figured he really didn't have a choice as there had been no volunteers from the start. He looked to the corner where Dallon had hunkered down and wished he'd just played lookout for him.

"One game." He said finally. "But I only take whatever's on the table right now."

"That's the spirit!"

Sisky, as hard as he tried, did genuinely suck at billiards. Josh wasn't extremely familiar with the game but his victory was claimed like the man before. The eight ball was sunk unceremoniously into a pocket and Josh felt a breath he'd been holding finally release. He took his earnings and looked at Gabe whose demeanor had changed from the previous game. Something felt off. But Josh took this as an exit and went over to check on Dallon.

"I'd be careful around Saporta." Dallon said plainly, not looking from the screen.

"Why's that? All he seems like is a bully. Plus, I got us something to help us eat something other than the garbage food they give us." Josh laid a poker chip on the desk beside the other. Dallon looked at it and smiled.

"My friend, I think you just gave me a wonderful idea." He said, holding it up to the light of the screen.

The middle of the chip was translucent, with a microchip in the middle of it. It was just barely visible through the casing. The microchip's helped keep track of how much was being spent at the commissary and made sure the location wasn't outside of any restricted areas. But, Dallon knew a way to bug the seemingly insignificant technology inside to help them find a way out. Or at least find out more information about what it took to get out.

•••

It was ten o'clock at night when a guard opened the door to their room. Josh was already asleep when he felt massive hands on him as they dragged him out of bed.

"Hey! What gives?!" He yelped, trying to right himself so he could turn and face his assailant. The guard let him get to his feet, seemingly not wanting a fight or to awaken anyone in the cells around them. Dallon didn't stir at all, dead asleep on the top bunk with his books strewn beside him.

The large hand gripped Josh's arm and pulled him out of the room, but he didn't fight as they walked down the fluorescent lit corridor. Together, they stepped into an elevator past the locking double doors and the guard hit a button for the top floor. Floor number nine. The elevator's bell dinged tiredly until it stopped and the doors opened. The guard let him out and the doors closed behind Josh. That was odd, wasn't he supposed to be accompanied until he was at his final destination.

The hall was lit by Edison bulbs, which barely gave enough light to see where he was going. A red Persian carpet lead his way and expensive armor in cases and taxidermy filled the spaces between Corinthian style columns. This top floor was completely different to the sterile metal and concrete he had been in for several days. He then reached two large dark oak doors, one of them was cracked open as an invitation. He entered carefully and the room opened up into an enormous court. At the top of a small staircase sat a man in a fine suit, two others standing unwavering beside him. One held a bottle of wine and the other, a platter with something on it.

The well dressed man rose with a gleaming smile. "Welcome to Las Vegas, Torchbearer. I'm sorry for the inconvenience of your stay on the lower levels. Nobody with a reputation like yours should've ever been held there." His voice echoed, sickeningly sweet as Josh stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The man's eyes were dark like a shark's, his white teeth showing in an empty smile.

Josh's blood froze when he heard his name. Nobody knew that title except for people who were really good at finding things. His mind went to Dallon. Fuck, how could he have been so blind?! He looked around for an exit, but realized that jumping nine stories would prove a bad idea. His only way out was an elevator that could only be operated by certain personnel. He was trapped.

"Fuck you." Josh spat, backing up from the stairs. There was an anger welling within his chest, a rage that he hadn't felt since watching Nico drag Clancy back to DEMA the first time they met.

The man snapped his fingers and the oak doors sealed shut. "Now, now, there's no need for such hostility in my house."

   Josh looked around him, searching for a weapon. The only thing he could potentially use was up behind the other. A wine bottle sitting neatly in the hands of a zombie like man. Perfect. As the other came down the stairs to meet him, Josh took off toward his servant. But as he ran by the other, a sharp pain shot up his leg and he flopped to the ground. The other man calmly walked over and put a polished black shoe on the back of his neck to keep him down.

   "Bring me my wine."

   "Yes, Brendon." The man holding the bottle said robotically, picking up a wine glass from the table beside the chair Brendon has been sitting in and pouring the dark liquid into it. It was delivered promptly.

   "Look at what you've done to yourself." Brendon commented, adding a little weight to his foot. "We could've been enjoying this together, but instead you let that little fire in you run away."

   Brendon finished his wine, cracking his neck before he looked down at Josh again. Josh gasped for breath, his limbs feeling like they'd been lit on fire as he struggled to find a way back to his feet. He pushed himself onto all fours and a foot met his rib cage. That's when he realized those dress shoes weren't ordinary, they were adorned in silver at the tips. Steel toes. Brendon kept on with it for what felt like ages until Josh was coughing up blood and didn't have the strength to try to rise again.

   "I'll have a guard take him to his place. Meanwhile, I'm parched. Another glass of wine will do." He said from his chair, watching Josh struggle to breathe as he laid on a heap on the expensive carpet.