I was raised to BATTLE other children for entertainment.

Two years ago, I was warned never to stay out in the open during daylight hours.

A girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, shared a candy bar and a Coke with me that she’d swiped.

Sara, I think her name was. Level two. Sara was skinnier than a stick, thick blonde hair wrangled into a ponytail with an old ribbon. Wearing a bloodstained T-shirt and shorts, she was perched on a wall, filthy legs dangling. I remember wondering how cruel humanity had to be to look at twelve-year-old Sara and immediately dehumanise her.

I wasn't supposed to trust anyone.

Children, usually younger, were set up to lure the older ones.

“You should stay clear during the daylight hours,” Sara said softly. “Find a cave, and hole up there. Then go night-hunting.”

She turned to me, shaking. “Goodbye.”

I walked away before I could ask why twelve-year-old Sara had a rope in her pack. I went back the next day to offer her water I stole from a man’s briefcase. But she was gone. Maybe she WAS a lure.

Or maybe Sara was tired of running.

Sara’s warning stuck with me. Until now.

Even in the middle of buttfuck Virginia, I wasn't safe.

I woke up with a strange feeling in my belly that maybe I could get to eighteen and survive. Only six months left. It was the smell that roused me from slumber.

I crawled out of my cave, following the scent.

A forgotten picnic blanket was spread out by my cave. A loud splash caught me off guard. A man and a woman were in the river. I lowered myself and pounced, snatching up half eaten burgers and stuffing them into my mouth. Intoxicating.

I barely even savoured the taste, swallowing before I could really revel in the thick, meaty flavor.

I forgot what human-food tasted like.

Melted chocolate ran thick down my throat.

It tasted like Before; before I was ripped from my mother’s arms and turned into a Fighter.

Fighters: Children forcefully given abilities as “power-ups” to fight other children.

Purely for entertainment. I won my first fight at eight years old, blowing the brains out of a seven-year-old with just a flick of my wrist. I remember exactly what blood tastes like: wet, rusty warmth. Chocolate cake made me feel human again. I was carving my fingers into fudge brownie frosting when I felt a sharp prick in the back of my neck, my entire body going limp.

I hit the ground knees first, my body collapsing with me. All of the breath was violently knocked from my lungs. Sedatives. They would keep me down for a moment, but I could fight back.

“Got him!”

I forced myself up onto my elbows, a snarl tearing from my lips.

Footsteps.

She was closing in on me. “I'm gonna go slowly!” She yelled. “He's a hard one to catch, right? Wait, let me try this.” She dropped onto stomach. “He's beautiful,” she whispered. I saw her reach behind her, and knew it was over. A flash of electric blue light blinded me, and I was trapped underneath an oval-shaped force field.

“Yes!” The woman loomed over me in a skimpy bikini, maybe in her mid-forties.

She grinned when I screamed, volts running through me when I dared break free. “Josh! I think he's stronger than our main fighter!”

The woman canceled the force field.

“Level five,” she said, glancing at her phone. “Google said he's at least one of the good ones, which means we can use him, right? Fives can manipulate the brain, the earth, and...” She spun around with a gleeful grin. “The cash prize for a winning kid is, like, two million. It's enough!"

The man caught up to her. I was unceremoniously stuffed into the trunk of their truck, my wrists and ankles cruelly bound together. There was something— someone— in there with me. Their strained breaths immediately gave them away.

But they didn't attack. Probably couldn't.

Level four, I guessed. Maybe lower.

Male.

Definitely powerful.

My kidnapper's voices rang out as the engine started up.

I was violently jolted into my companion.

“Don't get a ahead of yourself—”

“He's a rare one!” The woman hissed. “Look at his specs!”

“Yeah, he's a good fighter. But he's also RARE.” the man snapped. “Jesus, Lily, we need to keep him on the down-low.”

The slow lull of the truck combined with the sedatives rocked me into an uncomfortable slumber.

When I woke up, it was pitch dark outside.

Bikini woman, or Lily, loomed over me, her smile wide.

I was yanked from the trunk, landing on my stomach.

I was in a field. One single tree. A starless night weighed down on me.

“We have to make sure,” Lily said loudly. Floodlights illuminated the field in front of me.

I blinked rapidly, my vision feathering. Her heel smacked into my spine and I landed flat on my face. “that he’s good enough for an actual battle.”

Another woman stood across the field. In front of her, on her knees, was a skeletal redheaded girl bearing a hollow stare. She inclined her head. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Markings stained her neck where she’d been strangled, probably tortured into submission. Level six.

Maybe even seven. The girl stood slowly, her lips curled into a snarl, reddish-orange flames licking across her fingertips and expanding in pitch dark pupils.

Pyro.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the air around us.

The ground rumbled beneath my feet, throwing the female Fighter off balance.

“Go!” Her owner shrieked, ordering the attack.

She did, stumbling, flames engulfing her body.

Lily knelt in front of me.

Was she… crying?

“Kill that mutt,” she whispered.

“Then we’ll take you to a real battle.” Lily grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, her eyes frantic. “We'll win, and I’ll get my daughter back.” She shook me again.

Violently.

“Help me buy back my baby.”