(S:ARG) Paying the Price: Of Greed

THIS RP CONTAIN STRONG SCENES! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND PERIL

http://roleplayerguild.com/group.php...438&do=discuss

http://roleplayerguild.com/group.php...438&do=discuss

http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...-one-Of-Greed)

Prelude

The tournament had been a great success, first place and the five friends had decided to celebrate this by partying the entire night until morning. They had met up in the hotel bar after making preparations. Jason, normally the quiet and more reserved member of the group and happened to arrive first hooked up with five girls and invited them to celebrate together with the five friends. On the phone with Brett, he laughed and said "I dunno. I didn't think they'd say yes man!" As the drinks started flowing and they'd become more comfortable with each other Vince suggested that they'd make a boat trip to a nearby island for some diving and sunbathing, which the rest agreed on. The party had continued long into the night and when it ended, most of the five friends had left in the company of a girl back to their individual rooms. When morning came, they all met up in the harbour and hired a tourist boat and crew to take them to the nearby island. The crew supplied them with drinks and food, free of charge since the captain was a paintball fan; this was his congratulation to the winners of the tournament. They started getting drowsy from the sun, food and the drinks and fell asleep on the way to the island.

DAY 1, EARLY AFTERNOON

When they awoke, they were in cages, hands bound and mouths gagged. Groggy from being drugged, they started to panic and look around, mumbling into the gags as a man started talking. "Lookie here, they are starting to come around, I was just about to smack some life into them." One of the guards was fiddling with a cell phone while he spoke to a second guard. "I just got a great idea" he said and started typing on the phone. "What do you say about that? Facebook update; Having a great time at the beach on a wonderful island here in Asia."

The second laughed and said "what about 'just met some local studs. Love this place!' I think that one is really into me, she can't stop starring." He pointed a large, cruel looking knife at one of the girls. He moved up to the cage and kicked the wooden bars violently. "Oi. Sweety. You have a fancy for me, yeah?" There was no answer so he kicked it again, even more power behind this kick. "DO YOU!" Jason did his best to do something, yelling into the gag and moving against the restraints. The first guard spoke up again, "oh, look at fucking. Wha's that guy’s name. Romeo. Fuckin' Romeo over here. Really sweet." He moved to Jason's cage and YANKED his restraints, pulling him forward and punching him square in the cheek. "Yeah. Real fuckin' sweet. Get at me again boy an--"

"Ooooiiii, stop that you buffoons, these are our guests" a commanding voice said and a man approached the cages. "This is not the proper way to treat guests." The man who just had punched Jason backed away from the cage, "sorry captain." The man stopped in front of the cage the men were in and crouched down to their height. "How are you mate?" he asked Brett. "Oh sorry, you can't speak right now, let's do something about that shall we?" he said and pulled away Brett's gag. "Now, I guess you have a lot of questions that you want to ask, but bear with me for a while. You are our, guests, on this island, however, you can't leave until we get some...how do you say...compensation for our hospitality from your families. But I think I've taken a liking to you. I like the look in your eye. "

The man stood up and looked around at the others in the cages and after a moment, turned back to Brett. "Do you want to go home; Brett is your name, right?" The only answer Brett could give was a nod. "Yes Brett. I like you, so I'll give you a sweet offer; you can win your freedom if you do a little thing for me. You see that man over there," he said and pointed towards another captive. "If you can win against him in a one on one fight, I'll let you, your friends and even the girls whom you came here with go. What do you say about that Brett?" "What kind of fight?" Brett asked. "Oh, nothing major. It's something of a...local tradition. We do it all the time. It's just a fight to the death and the only weapon you can use is your hands. What say you Brett, do you accept?" Brett looked at the others and he could see a glimmer of hope in their eyes; they almost wished for him to accept the proposal, even if it means sacrificing someone else's life. "I'll do it," Brett finally said after a while. "Excellent!" the captain exclaimed, "Oi, you, open the cage and undo his restraints, the same with that man over there" the captain said to the nearest guard. "Let the show begin."

Brett stood there and stared at the other man. He was a normal looking guy, Hispanic. He looked to be about as scared as Brett was, his eyes wide, looking around. Brett himself wondered if this was a dream and it looked like the other man was thinking the same. They weren't REALLY gunna make them fight to the death, were they? The silence was broken as the man said in a loud vice, "don't stare like you're debating making out. One of you is going to die. The other, well, the other will be set free. GOO!!"

Clay wasn't one to panic, not after all the things he'd dealt with. A few of his clients tended to make stupid decisions, dragging him along, ad he had learned to be patient and careful reacting to problems. Hasty action equaled potential danger. He cautiously opened his eyes, glancing around. He was bound tight, gagged, and inside a wooden cage. The others were struggling violently with their bonds, prompting a reaction from their captors. A savage kick to one of the girl's ribs brought Jason into a rage. Clay took a deep breath as the full measure of everything that was happening washed over him. They were all stuck, far, far from home, with nothing, held by captors who were creepily sadistic. This wasn't good. Not good at all.

Fuck. He swore several more times in his mind. We're gonna die here. We're actually gonna- no. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Someone has to. Keep your cool, Clayton.

Jason tried valiantly to struggle out of his bonds, but it only served to earn him a solid punch to the jaw. Clay winced sympathetically, but paid attention. These men seemed deranged. Not crazy- he had met some crazy people- but deranged. Viciously deranged. The head man, obviously the head man, since one of the others called him boss, spoke to Brett. Offered him a chance to set the rest of them free. Clay wanted to shout for Brett to just stay put, but his friend was already getting to his feet. And yet, at the same time, Clay wanted Brett to win, to get them all out of this. He quickly turned his head, searching for...there!

Laura was trussed up like the rest of them, to his left. He tried to make eye contact, but she seemed to be completely oblivious, to everything. A flame of anger flared within him. What had these bastards done to her? He had liked her on sight, and at the prodding of his friends, had stuck up a tentative conversation with her, last night. They had eventually gone back to his room, together, but contrary to everyone's beliefs, They had spent the night talking, and that was all. Not that anyone would care now.

Everyone was intensely focused on the brewing deathmatch, so Clay tentatively started wriggling his hands. He was in almost peak human condition, thanks to his rigorous training and intense trips into the wild. He was reasonably sure that, given enough time, he could snap the rope easily. He just had to stay quiet, and keep as still as possible. To the outside observer, he barely moved, but a careful watcher could see the tensing and slight movements. If he could get free, things would change around here, big time.

When consciousness came back to her, Eddy’s head hurt so badly she thought she might be sick. It felt halfway between a concussion and the world’s worst hangover. Not that she’d had all that many hangovers, but she’d had a concussion back when she’d played softball and taken a bat to the head and it felt almost this good compared to this current pain. She curled fetal and willed her heart to stop so that the throbbing in her head would stop as well. Something cut through her fog of pain, an unfamiliar voice shouting vulgarities. She sat up or tried to until she realized her hands were bound and she toppled over to the ground, letting out a groan around her gag. It was then that she noticed the presence of the gag and bindings. Shocked, her eyes flew open despite the wincing pain from the shitty lights overhead. With watering eyes she tried to take in her surroundings but didn’t get much past the bars, the bound bodies of the girl’s she’d befriended at the bar the night before and gone on a boat trip with that very morning. They hadn’t been drinking that much had they? Had they been drugged? Where were the guys, had they been the lure for the women?

She managed to heave herself up and wriggle back against the wooden bars just as one of the men kicked the bars just behind her back. A new level of pain blossomed into her world as the loud sound echoed in her throbbing skull. She fell forward in surprise, crying out behind the filthy gag. Her bound hands prevented her from catching herself so that her forehead smacked the ground with a dull thunk that made her see bright flashes of light and reconsider how bad her head had hurt before in comparison to the current ache. She longed for the old pain with great keenness.

It was a long few moments before she had enough of herself to try to sit up again and makes sense of the insanity before her. She wasn’t going to lie there and take it for all that she had no clue how not to take it. But the least she could do was be upright and looking for something, anything to make sense of the scene. She watched as one of the guys stood up, Brett, she thought his name was, after one of their captor’s removed his restraints and led him out of the cage to an open area where another man stood. She stared at them, a growing horror filling her and the words of the man confirmed what she’d gathered from the scene before her.

One of you is going to die. The other, well, the other will be set free. GOO!!"

"No, don't!" she yelled, knowing that this must just be some sick game. But it was lost in the gag that silenced her. She knew it was going to be horrible, she'd never seen anything but cinematic violence but still she couldn't look away.

Able’s mind was awash; adrift in a void lost to time and reality. He did not dream. No colors danced amidst his consciousness. Only inky blackness was known to him, and he did not even know, in the true sense of the word. The awareness that he had been lost to himself troubled him, and this feeling was the first thought to tickle his perception as his eyes began to open. He could not recall what had happened, his recent memory was compiled of only vague feelings and emotions, not tangible events, and his mind fought to gain focus. It was then that he tasted the greasy foulness of the strip of cloth that was tied firmly between his teeth. His mind reeled at the sensation of the unwelcome fabric against his tongue, and he recoiled involuntarily, his head striking into something hard behind him.

The blow coupled with his already heavily clouded psyche sent a wave of vertigo through Able, and he had to will himself not to vomit. As he fought back the bile in his throat, he senses seemed to gain focus in rapid succession, and realization coursed across him like a bolt of lightning. He felt that he was seated on a hard surface, his hands were bound, pain radiated from his jaw and forehead, his ears were assaulted by the yells of strange voices, and before him he saw the wooden bars of a cage, and beyond the bars he could see the grimy and sadistic faces of those that could only be his captors.

Holy fuck.

To his left Able heard a female voice cry out, and he turned just in time to see a man kick at a separate wooden cage, a knife clutched in his hand. The woman he struck fell over, curling around her battered ribs. Recognition came to Able, and he realized that he knew her. Her name did not immediately come to him, but as she sat up and her face became more visible the name Edwina materialized. Her name carried another memory with it, and Able’s face contorted into a reflexive mask of rage, and he tried to curse the man, but the gag choked the words from his mouth. Though he could not immediately pinpoint how through his still hazy mind, he knew that she meant something to him, and the sight of her being attacked had sent a wave of hatred through his body.

Able was distracted at once by Jason, who was crouched in front of him, bucking against his own restraints in apparent fury at the same guard that had drawn Able’s ire. To Jason’s right were Clay and Brett, both seated and similarly bound with rope. Behind them, and to Able’s immediate right lay Vincent, his eyes half-lidded with pain, soft groans issuing from beneath his gag. Several other men Able did not recognize were also in the small wooden cage. Though he grasped the core of what was happening to him, Able still felt a surreal detachment from the situation; such dire comprehension felt foreign and unnerving.

Is this really fucking happening?

Almost in response to his thoughts, the taunting of the guards was interrupted by another more commanding voice. Able listened as this new man, who he heard referred to as “Captain” by one of the other guards, began his own taunts. The Captain approached the cage of men, and knelt down, addressing Brett as he did. Able listened with ever growing horrified anger as the Captain described that Brett was to fight another man to the death in return for freedom. Able roared as best he could through the filthy cloth that pressed against his tongue; he wanted to beg Brett to not accept the offer. A knot of electric despair vibrated in his stomach as Brett was led out of the cage, along with one of the other captive men.

His thoughts were afire; Able was a man accustomed to saving and helping others, and his current state of helplessness was tearing him apart inside. Brett was his friend, and he longed to do something. As Brett and the other man stood staring with blank gloom at one another, Able forced himself to gather his thoughts and try to become calm. He could do no good for Brett paralyzed by righteous anger. With his heart drumming in his ears, Able began to discreetly search the cage with his eyes. The bonds that restrained all of the men were made of rope, and he was looking for anything to free himself from the restraints.

The floor was concrete, stained and dirty, and in places heavily pock-marked and worn. A glimmer of hope welled inside of Able; where there was broken concrete there were often shards. He continued to search, trying to feel behind him with his hands. While he searched, slight movements of Clay’s hands caught his eye, and Able froze to watch what his friend was doing. Though the motions were incremental, it soon became apparent that Clay was trying to free himself.

Hell yes brother!

At the sight of Clay’s attempts, Able renewed his quiet search with vigor, just as the Captain yelled at Brett and the other man to begin their mortal combat. Time was flying away, and a frantic edge was creeping into Able’s search. He jerked slightly to shift position, and as he moved he felt something brush beneath his bare right foot. Once again he froze. He hadn’t thought to look beneath his feet, so focused was he on his immediate surroundings. With painful slowness Able lifted his foot to find a small, thin sliver of concrete. The piece was no more than an inch long, and about a half an inch wide, and at first glance its edge appeared thin and sharp.

Triumph washed over Able, and he had to check himself so he did not outwardly display his relief. He knew his next moves could determine the fate of him and his friends, and so he steeled his resolve. Something had to happen now, or never. Sweat dripped from his brow as Able began to manipulate the piece of concrete with the toes of his right foot. His position was awkward compared to the position of the object, and the muscles in his calves and feet were soon burning as he attempted to pick up the piece with his toes. After what seemed like an eternity the piece finally ended up being clutched between his big toe and the one immediately beside it. Able took a deep breath, ignoring the foul air that passed through the gag as he began to move his foot towards Clay’s hands. Able’s eyes darted about as he moved his foot with glacial slowness; the guards were currently occupied with the spectacle of Brett and the other man beginning to square up, but he knew that at any moment they could come to check on the cages.

With a final deliberate burst of effort, Able’s toes found Clay’s clutched hands. He felt Clay freeze at the contact, but mercifully his friend did not turn or make any perceptible recognition. For a time Clay’s hands remained still, not moving to accept Able’s proffered gift, and Able worried that Clay would not understand what was going on. Finally, the thumb and forefinger of Clay’s left hand snaked out and grasped the shard. Exhausted with strain and relief Able withdrew his foot, just as Brett moved to engage his unwanted foe.

It was Jason's natural reaction to move forward and attempt to do something. Yes, he felt the affect of some drug in his system and he was tied up, but at the very least he accomplished two things. He kept the attention off of the girl, but also checked the situation around him. He found out who was in charge and found out that there WERE boundaries, meaning that to some degree, they had to remain undamaged. To what level though, he wasn't sure, because the cut on his check said that aesthetics weren't coming into play.

While the blow wasn't that severe, the effects of the drugs and what he could tell was the beginning stages of dehydration had him seeing stars and feeling disorientated immediately. While Clay had always talked about surviving, which he DEFINITELY had the edge on, Jason had been to actual SERE school. He couldn't live as long, or as comfortably or as confidently out in the elements, but Jason had been interrogated at SERE school. Beat up, starved, isolated and humiliated. While it had been years ago now, the mentality that was instilled was still there and he remained as calm as possible as he took note of everything.

He relaxed and took several deep breaths before opening his eyes, sorting out the noises and voices that were swirling around in his head and when he came to, he saw that some how, Brett was out of the cage and talking with an individual who Jason didn't recognize. Hearing the words, he cursed. Brett was a tough guy, he'd always been, but that had been mainly a protector role. Early on, he was the biggest, the toughest and most physically mature. But he wasn't the type who'd kill a man, at least not…like this. Brett wasn't a killer.

Jason cursed, wishing it would be him in there, but he didn't react, he only watched and looked around. There were the 2 stooges and now the man referred to as Captain or Boss, along with a quiet looking female off to the side. A few moments after the man screamed for them to fight, there were other voices and move men came pouring in. Apparently this was a common, or at least enjoyed event here because the men talked about it with ease, some making wagers on "the white one" or "the mexican."

Just as the two seemed to take a step towards one another and engage, a man walked up to Captain and whispered something into his ear, nodding his head towards the cage that the four men were in. "Wait," he said with a crisp, sharp tone and Brett and his opponent stopped. Jason tried to figure out what was going on, but at the same time, he hoped Brett remained calm and hadn't dumped all of his adrenaline at that time, he was going to need it.

Captain walked over to the cage, outwardly calm. To the man's credit, he seemed to have it together. He was debatably handsome, toned and had that smoothness and confidence to his voice when he spoke. When he spoke, Jason almost found himself comforted, or trusting even in spite of all the things going on around him, like being prisoners and forcing two men to fight to their deaths. However, the moment he spoke any positive feelings towards the man were washed away. "Ladies. Gentlemen. This is a time honored tradition that we have here." His gaze went from one man, to the next so Jason wasn't sure to who the following comments were directed to.

"If you ruin that. I'm going to have to do some things. Things I don't want to do. I want you to understand something," and at this point he started to speak so everyone could hear him, looking around, but smiling as wide as a president giving his acceptance speech. "You all have a chance to go home, so long as your people can pay. We know your financials, your families financials. So. If things are promising, then you will go home." He then focused back and forth to two people behind him

"But, that doesn't mean that if you try to escape, or get out of your bonds, I will not remove fingers, ears or toes from you and your friends, while you all watch. So if you so much as move in a way that makes my men or I THINK you're trying to escape, you may be going home minus a few digits. I'd ask if you understand, but I am very cognizant of you not being in the position to answer. Hope you enjoyed the pep talk mates!" He reached in and slapped Vince 3 times in the face lightly, mockingly.

The whole time he was talking, the room, now full with over a dozen men talked in low tones, mainly on the fight odds or eying the women and making crude comments. Jason took this time to survey them. 'Not modern military, or at least not all of them. More like a gang, at least the armed men anyway.' The vast majority were local asians. The only thing they really had in common were green cargo pants, and that seemed to be the "uniform" of the group. All had different shirts, everything from Pepsi, plain tees, Hawaiian shirts and a Beatles shirt.

'Soviet weapons. AKs. A few random pistols and other weapons.'

There was a group of 3 men who stood off to the side, they were white and either American or European, but he couldn't tell. They seemed disinterested in all the games and the others left them alone, but they were obviously in with the bad guys.

"And without further ado--" He stopped suddenly and looked over at the group of girls. "Speaking of, ladies, did you know that it's a common American misconception that the phrase 'without further ado' with the word being spelled A-D-O is actually 'without further adieu' spelled A-D-I-E-U? A-D-O means a presentation or bravado, a building of hype or just a general to do and fuss, while A-D-I-E-U means a good bye or parting of ways. I apologize for the digression, but I know that some ladies love an articulate man, and I can see a few of you could obviously use a lesson or two in speaking properly." He 'tsked' and shook his head. "American ladies, so much beauty with so little intelligence."

He hopped up, "so. Without further ado. You have 2 minutes and I start cutting apart your friends. Have at it!"

That was when Jason looked beyond his immediate area and noticed the area was large and there were, that he could see, 3 OTHER cages in addition to the two that the guys and ladies were in, all full with between 3 and 5 people. The place grew louder as men shouted at the two combatants, each other and odds, more wagers being made. The group of 3 whites now kept their eyes on the cage, more interested in watching the 4 men inside than the fight about to take place.

At that point, the two men ran at each other, quickly closing the 15 or so feet between them…

Brett's head was spinning, all of this seemed unreal and he was overwhelmed. His mind would not process what was going on, and it all seemed like a dream, like you knew what was going on but at the same time, you KNEW it was a dream. He was pulled from the cage and talked with the man in charge, Captain, and barely managed to soak in all of what he said.

In reply Brett could barely muster the 2 statements that he did. The next few moments seemed like a roller coaster as he steeled himself and got ready to do…this. And moments later the captain made his speech, but Brett retained his focus to his credit and sized up his opponent.

The man was a latino, maybe not american but it wouldn't matter where the guy was from. He was taller than Brett, but he was also skinny and lanky and if Brett looked shook or overwhelmed, this guy looked a tenfold worse. He was almost shaking and breathing heavily, panicked. However, he was tattooed up and had a piercing on his lip and ear, so the guy was obviously used to some sort of pain to some degree.

Then he came to the realization that Captain had turned his attention back towards them and then he heard "two minutes and I start cutting apart your friends. Have at it!"

The comment didn't sink in to Brett right away, but the other man picked up on it and charged at Brett, who reacted more to the movement than anything. He also ran at his now-enemy and the two came together violently. At the last second, Brett managed to lower his shoulder slightly and rose up into the man's chest area. While the exchange went in Brett's favor in terms of damage, both men collided heavily and dropped down and Brett was shocked that the man was so solid and heavy.

The man was wincing and gasping, Brett at least knocked the wind out of him, maybe even hurt a rib. Not wasting another moment Brett went to pounce on the man, receiving several wild kicks to the face and shoulder as he scrambled to get on top. The latino tried to move backwards to get more room but Brett was faster but as he tried to get atop the other man, he caught a blow to the side of the head that had him see a sudden flash of blue. He was stunned for a moment and that time was all it took, another well aimed kick caught Brett in the face and sent him back.

He could taste blood and dirt and sweat as he fought to gain his focus but before he could do anything, the latino pushed him back down and Brett was now scrambling to keep the man off of him. He was hit a few times, but the man wasn't trying to hit Brett so much as get in position to choke him or smash his head back into the dirt and concrete.

Brett was desperate and couldn't shake the man off of him and when he tried one more time to get a forearm over Brett's throat, Brett did something without thinking or hesitating. He bit down on the man. It was sudden and animalistic, not like chewing corn or biting a candy bar. He bit with all of his might and immediately felt… Blood and skin and other things he couldn't describe, and then he bit harder.

The man screamed and reared back in shock. Despite themselves, the situation surprised them both and for a split second they both stopped and looked at one another. Brett took advantage of the situation first, moving a fraction of a second before his opponent and leaned up, smashing the top of his head into the man's jaw from below. Brett saw a flash again from the impact, but the man screamed and Brett knew this was it.

He shot up and ignored the bloody mess the man was. Unbeknownst to Brett, the man had bit his tongue clean off and blood was pouring from his mouth, but all Brett cared about was the man was holding his hand to his own face, reacting to the pain, and leaving himself wide open to anything. Brett swung, down and forward, with all of his strength and his fist hit the man in the temple so hard that it fractured his own hand, but it was something that he wouldn't feel until later, when the adrenaline ceased.

The man silently hit the ground and Brett didn't care if he was moving or not. This was what he needed to get home, get his friends out of here. He swivled his hips and kicked the man in the face. Once. Twice. Three times. He wasn't moving, not at all, but Brett kept kicking, kicking ansd sobbing loudly, not realizing it. He was sobbing and screaming at the same time until suddenly a loud gunshot rang out.

He panicked, thinking he'd been shot, head snapping to the sound. Captain held his gun up in the air, a smile on his face as he surveyed the scene. The room was suddenly filled with the buzz of the soldiers, some laughing or clapping, others handing over money or jewelry. The room was hot and stifling and he felt tired and overwhelmed by it all. Brett looked over at his friends in the cage. He should be happy. But he was ashamed, confused. His friends all looked at him but he couldn't read their looks, he just stared at them numbly.

"Aha! Well done champion," the Captain said. He wasn't yelling, but he spoke loudly enough to be heard, and the soldiers all quieted down. "Well done mate! Over a minute and a half to spare!"

Brett looked down at the corpse at his feet, mangled and ugly, broken, dead. He felt like throwing up. While all of the soldiers was cheering and yelling, he stared at the dead man silently, then to the group in the cages who'd just watched him take another man’s life with his hands. The Captain was clapping and walked up to Brett, smiling, seemingly impressed. "Eh, great job even. Glad it wasn't me in there with you, holy shit. You guys see your friend here? He must really care about you guys. Anyway, I said you'd be freed if you won, and you will all see, I'm a man of my word." He took a moment to shake a finger at them all, looking them in the eye in turn.

"Never forget that. When I say something, my word it's as good as gold. Akio, free this man." The woman nodded, bored look on her face, as she pulled out a pistol from her side and without a word, shot Brett through the head. The look on her face was casual, as if this was an everyday event, or the norm. "There we go friends, set free. You're welcome! Now, does anyone else want to be set free?"

Some in the cages were silent and in shock while others exploded in a rage, Jason included. He threw himself against the bars and was struck again by a guard, even more violently than the last time.

The captain pointed towards some guards, "I didn't think so. You two, throw his freed body to the dogs, they are getting hungry. In fact. So am I."

The last time Eddy had seen a fight had been in fourth grade when Michael Thompson called Greg Mann a fag to show off for his buddies. Greg’s friends had all been girls, Eddy for one, but he’d taken exception to the title and proven his impending manhood by pounding the snot out of Mike. Eddy had watched then transfixed in sort of a sick fascination as the fight had progressed. It had been fast, so damn fast it had been hard to follow and hard to tell who had hit whom. But in the end both had been bleeding and the major difference had been that in the end, Mike was down and Greg was up.

This new fight she was watching had some eerie similarities to that long ago school yard brawl: the speed, the intensity, the blood and the way it made her heart pound and her throat close up. Now as then she found she couldn’t look away. But that’s where the similarities ended. Did desperation have a scent? She had never thought about it but now her nostrils were thick with it, it all but choked on her as the two men fought for the death. She didn’t even have someone to root for, she knew the man, Brett she thought his name was, as well as she knew anyone she’d gone on that damn excursion with. Certainly not enough to wish him his live over another’s. So all she could do was watch in fascinated horror and hope that the monsters who had orchestrated this and were now loudly cheering the bloodbath stopped it before it reached a point of no return.

They did not. For the second time in her life she watched someone die before her eyes. Flashes of blood and glass and the sounds of her own screams filled her and she had to claw past the long dead memories to remain in the present. It wasn’t easy but she’d spent years burying those overwhelming memories and she wasn’t about to lose that battle now, not when things were so damn wrong. Returning to the nightmare of the moment she stared at the man turned killer. The man she’d drank with the night before, the man whose friend she’d hooked up with and the only thing that kept her from loathing him completely was the pain and shame on his face. He looked to his friends blankly and she could see how much the act had disturbed him. She ached for him, she’d always been a little too empathetic for her own good, taking on the hurts of the world for her own, aching for people she barely knew and trying to fix things that weren’t hers to fix. There was nothing she could do but bear witness.

So it was that she was watching Brett’s face very closely, feeling his pain when the bullet hit him in the head. The mess was incredible, so much blood and so quickly. It seemed so unreal, like a movie and she’d hardly registered it when his body crumpled to the ground, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in her ears. Was the roar she heard that of the crowd or that of the blood roaring in her ears? Some of it was her own scream. Ripped from her mouth, muffled and made inhuman by the filthy rag that gagged her. She was made inhuman by virtue of her surroundings. Two dead in mere minutes and the crowd loved it, their joy and blood-lust was all but palpable. She died a little right then, part of what made her Eddy died even as Brett’s blood seeped into the floor. How much would be left when she got out of there, if she got out of there?

Clay felt the shard touch his hand. Able had the same idea as he did. Awesome. He took the concrete, and started sawing away, moving as little as possible. There was no way he was going to die in this hell-hole. The piece of concrete was much duller than it had felt, and far less useful than he had hoped, but it did start to sever the bonds. If he could have a few more minutes, five at least, he could free his hands. He heard shouting and screaming coming from in front of him, but he ignored it, focusing instead on carving his freedom. That was all that mattered right now. If he could-

Cheering wracked his senses, forcing him to involuntarily look up. The sight almost made him lose hold of the stone shard. Brett wasn't a killer, in any sense of the word. Sure, he was the roughest of the bunch, the most vulgar, the most likely to piss the other guys off but he was stalwart and friendly, and Clay would have trusted Brett with his life. But Brett had just killed a man. He had just broken one of the unspoken laws of brotherhood. Clay searched his friend's face, looking for the man he knew and called 'brother'.

To his utmost relief, Clay saw a look of shock and horror on his friend's face. Brett had not enjoyed this. He Was still the same man as always, although a part of them all was dead, now, forever. Gone. They would all be changed men, once they left here- wait, what was that man saying? Setting them free? He had promised, after all, if Brett won. Maybe this was just a sick group of psychos who just wanted some entertainment. That wasn't a reason to keep them around, right? These bastards had gotten their entertainment.

But the 'Captain' wasn't finished. Click went the hammer, bang went the gun. Splat went Clay's friend. His head exploded. Clay dropped the concrete shard. No...fuck. No. That...He...They... Coherent words wouldn't form in his mind. Brett, the rock they had all leaned on in past years, snuffed out. Right in front of them. Clay noticed one of the girls they had al met squealed with agonizing sadness, and Jason strained against his bonds more than ever. Clay tried to move as Jason was sentenced to the dogs. Tried to do anything. But he couldn't. The gunshot stuck in his mind. It blotted everything else out. Brett, gone?

It was several long seconds before Clay could shake himself back to life. Their situation obviously hadn't changed. Brett would have punched Clay, told him to get a move on. They needed to escape, somehow. They could mourn later.

The captain walked off to a nearby building as Brett's body was carried away by two guards and thrown into a pit. A few hours passed and the captain returned to the cells and raised his voice. "Ladies gentlemen and, I have an announcement to make that is going to liven up your day." The captain smiled at the people in the cells as he pranced around while he spoke. "You are all going to be moved to a new camp where you'll be taken care of" he told the now four friends. "And you, will be moved to separate camps for your special treatment" he said as he stood in front of the ladies cell. The captain turned around and walked towards Akio. “Load up the females and the males and ship them off to the camps.” He then walked into one of the houses in the camp.

“All right boys, drag them out and load them up” she said and the guards entered the cages and beat the ones who resisted with batons until the stopped resisting and dragged everyone outside and loaded them into some trucks, still bound and gagged. “Move out!” Akio shouted and the trucks started rolling out of the camp. The trucks had a cage in the back in which everyone was locked into and there was a driver and a guard in the front of the truck.

It was a very bumpy ride. The road was old and worn and badly maintained and the truck waved from side to side, as if the driver was drunk. Everyone might have had their legs and arms bound, but they were not bound to the cage itself and were thrown around inside the cage as the truck drove along the road.

After a unspecified time, the truck bounced in the road before it veered off to the right and it started to lean heavily to the left. It did not take many seconds until the truck flipped onto its side. The four friends woke up after some time, all bruised and bloodied. Jason whom woke up first noticed that the cage was split open in the top left where it had smacked right into the ground when the truck flipped over. He crawled over to the broken cage and started rubbing the rope against the bars until it was cut through. He quickly untied his legs and it was now that the others started waking up. Jason untied Vincent and they both untied the rest.

Vincent walked up to the front of the truck and looked inside. “Hey, they are still alive in front.”

Jason got himself sorted out and looked the other 3 over briefly. To one degree or another, they all looked bad, cut and bruised and bleeding, and even Jason felt the fringes of shock creeping in. He saw it in the others to more or lesser degrees.

Then something snapped Jason back to reality, seven simple words shook him from his stupor and helped him regain his focus. “Hey, they are still alive in front.” He looked and saw one groaning and moving slightly while the other was just lying there, bloody and breathing. Jason focused on the two for a moment, then his gaze went to the broken cage they were still in and he ripped the wooden bars that remained slightly intact and they broke off with a loud SNAP.

That snap shook the others from their own mental dissary and they all looked to the sound and saw Jason storm out of the cage. Vincent was the first to realize where this was leading and he reached out to grab Jason by the shoulder but was quickly shook off and unable to make another grab due to the jagged, broken wooden bars being in his way. He slowly moved out of the gap, avoiding being cut on the bars as he followed Jason.

Jason heard the others behind him after he shook off the hand and exited the cage, but the sounds behind him were distant and easy to ignore, like someone on the other side of the wall. He quickly moved to the front of the vehicle, not noticing the large amount of beer cans amidst the wreckage of the vehicle as he beelined towards the 2 soldiers.

He stepped over the one who wasn’t moving and as the other saw Jason coming, he slowly and feebly reached for the handgun holstered under his arm. Jason took a few quick hops and knelt on the man’s arm on the ground, pinning it under his weight, while calmly taking the other hand as it continued it’s futile grab for the weapon.

Jason wasted no time, he took the trigger finger of the soldier and stared into his eyes as he bent the finger back painfully, prompting the man to scream loudly, so loud that as Jason continued bending, the loud SNAP of his finger shattering was hardly audible. Jason was jerked back as Vincent screamed something at him, something that he ignored, focusing on the man below him screaming, wailing and most likely begging in some Asian language.

When Vincent gave another more forceful pull at his shoulder, without a word, Jason pulled the gun from the man’s side holster. In a flash, the familiar weight of a weapon in his hand soothed him, gave him a feeling he hadn’t felt since his service. Since he’d been out, he hadn’t fired a weapon. He hadn’t been in the place he was as a Marine. That door was closed and never opened. Now, that weapon brought back that part of him that none of his friends had seen before.

That weapon opened that door, and as the door open, the calm, soothing feeling of being immortal, the Marine Corps mindset that you could do anything and lord help anyone in your way came back. "JASON!"

That door swung wide open to his old life and Jason stepped through the moment the hammer of the handgun CLICKED forward and the bullet ripped through the head of the man below him.