The iron was cold on my ankles. It always was; I had been here for six years, and the iron was always cold.
A blinding shaft of artificial light stabbed me in the eyes, ouch. I recoiled and tossed the thin sheet off my cot, legs swinging over the edge. My twenty pound shackles dragged over the edge and hit the floor with such force I was actually awake now.
Eyes wide, I stood and shuffled over to the steel bars that barricaded my cell. Behind the bars was a thick, bullet proof sheet of metal with slats in it. One was opened by an Usher or someone of the like, flooding my cell with that white light I dreaded so bad.
Peeking through-after my eyes began to adjust-I saw the usual; maids, Ushers, Feeders, and... a Ring Master? Oh boy. This can't be good. They treaded around the lobby like ants, busy as usual.
A slat at the bottom of my cell opened, then shut just as fast. A plate of grub was now by my feet.
"There ya go darlin', nice 'n cold jus' how y'all like it 'round here. Chin up, Winner." A wrinkled face blocked the light in the slat i was looking through. I suppressed the immense urge to maul his face.
With a grunt, I kicked my tray over to my cot, quite noisilly. I slumped down onto my bed, and stared at the old man. He stared back. At this distance I couldn't see his facial expression. But I knew what he was thinking.
After what seemed like eternity, I won the staring contest and began to devour my meal. An apple, bread role, pint of milk, and a burnt link of sasuage. And a note. Hmm.
It was handwritten and read: Highnoon. Practice. With Specail J. -H
It had to be Monday. H only did these on Mondays. Training today would be fun, I love hanging out with Special J. I love her to death.
~
"Now, girls, I want you to push yourselves today. " A tall, wirey man stood on the edge of the cracked court. A full set of weights spread out over the concrete. He projected his voice, "As you both know, championships are just around the corner. They have announced it officially that Jared Sigger is holding it under Los Angeles."
This was interesting news. Championships were usually held every three or four years, to allow generation gaps and elite training. The last one was six years ago; due to law enforcement setting up an abush in Colorado and blowing it all out for Callie Hide a couple years ago. For Jared Sigger to be hosting one this close to that incident was suicide. And futhermore, why would H be sending Special J and I to it? Surely he remembered the B.S. that Sigger had pulled all those years ago.
I was certain that all this information he was telling us meant absolutely nothing to J, or maybe just sounded like gibberish to her. She dug her toes into the dirt and grass, trying her hardest to pay attention and learn the bigger words H was using. I remembered promising her that I would teach her so she'd have a chance around here when she was first shipped back to the Compound. Those brilliant baby-blue eyes looked up at me, meeting my gaze.
I gave Special J a little wink, she relaxed a little bit seeing me not so tense. J is a sweet character. I met her when she was first born, but she disappeared for about four years until she was then ready to start training and gaining the mindset of a Killer. If all went as planned, she would be like myself and win as many Championships as I did when I was first trained. A pang of sadness swelled in my throat. She was so innocent, why would they let her become a brute? Before all this madness surely kids were taught better things such as reading, writing, simple math? Well, I wouldn't know. I was sold at eight years of age. I only knew what my owners had taught me before in order to serve them.
"Hey, are you listening to me at all?" H barked at me and I instantly straightened up. I was taught to listen and do.
I swallowed awkwardly. I didn't want to say anything in fear of being punished.
H slowly walked over, taking his sweet time and thinking about something.
"Avie. " I froze. My real name hadn't been spoken in a long, long time. I'm talking years. H continued, but lowered his voice, "I can tell something is bothering you. " There was an awkward pause, honestly I haven't ever heard his voice sound so concerned. Then he added, "Don't let it get in the way of your duties." Those words were so much harsher, like knives in a fresh slab of meat.
"Yes, sir." My gruff voice sounded as he walked away, scribbling on a notepad. I hated my voice, I had it beaten out of me at a young age- literally. Day one of practice and I had already screwed up. I have been doing this for ten years. What is wrong with me? Today was going to be a tough day.
