The First Redemption Games (1-5) & The Writer Games | 6 - 7

Interview: Drako

I waited offstage, in a black tunic, with red wings and a black halo attached. I hated it. I know my stylist wanted me to look like a dark angel, but that wasn't me anymore. I'd changed it. What others like Becka and Ellie had always known, I'd finally learned.

When Becka got offstage, I stepped on hesitantly. I was expecting cold glances from the crowd. After all, I had killed their president. So, I was quite pleasantly surprised by the round of applause and Brielle's warm smile. "It's so great to see you back, Drako! So, how was it in the arena, and what do you take out of your experience?"

I looked at Sycamore and Becka, and they smiled at me. Be yourself Drako. You always have them. They like you for you. "Well, honestly, it's so different from what you see on television. When you're watching, it all looks so easy, but it's not. It's probably the hardest thing I've ever done. What I did to Yuki, and Winston, and Lily, it haunts me. Every night I see them glare accusingly at me, and I don't blame them. I'm a monster, I really am."

"It's okay, Drako," she stated. Maybe Becka was wrong, maybe she was genuinely concerned for us. "You sacrificed yourself for Sprink and Sycamore in the end, I thought that wasn't very monstrous. And all that happenned with Jamie, that was sweet. Speaking of those three, how are they?"

"Well, Sycamore's great. He's probably the least changed of the Games, still confused as ever. It's kind of amusing, really." The crowd laughed, and I tried to smile at them. It wouldn't kill me. "As for Sprink, I haven't seen him yet. I guess they keep the people in the Decade seperate."

After seeing I wouldn't continue, Brielle seemed a little appalled. "Drako? You didn't answer the full question. How's Jamie?"

I gulped, little tears forming in my eyes. "When I killed Snow... They decided they had to do something to punish me, and suffering was better punishment than death. So... They killed Jamie. They killed him right in front of me, and it was all my fault! Then I was brought to jail, and got to watch Sycamore and Becka die. It was hard, really. But I guess I was never dead, though I wish I was. I wish I could just get it over with and die already, but at the same time, I'm so glad to have a chance to come back to Sprink. He makes it all worth it."

"And do you think maybe you deserve Jamie's death?" I glared at her, and she quickly changed questions. "So, I think I have something to cheer you up. How about you come on up here Sprink?" A smile quickly flashed onto my face, as Sprink ran up onstage and I pulled him into a big hug. "So, how was it being seperated?"

"Terrible." We both said at the same time. "Please don't do it to us again. Ever again." I pulled Sprink onto my lap, and we sat together like siblings should. Like we weren't in the Writer Games, and our lives weren't in grave danger. The crowd awwed.

"I'm sure we wont. So, we already know what you think about Sprink, but what about Roslyn and Ellie? Do they deserve to be in the Decade according to you?"

"Yes. Everybody in the final six deserved to be there, so whoever made it would deserve to be there. The really question is, were they who I wanted to win? The answer to that is no. I wanted Sprink and Sycamore to win with either Becka or me, but it didn't work that way. However I can't wait to see them keep arguing in the decade. None of us really know why they hate each other so much. Even Becka."

Brielle laughed again. "Yes, that will be fun. The Games always are. And I really hope Jamie's death taught you to respect the law more."

To this I stood up, and Sprink tried to pull me down, but I refused. "The Games are never fun. They're not games, they're a death sentence. And no. That's not what Jamie's death taught me. It taught me my city is ruthless and cruel. As for you... Becka and I were actually debating about you off stage, and now I have to say she was right. You're nothing but a rude, inconsiderate cow!" I slapped her, and eagerly stormed off stage, Sprink at my heels.