I woke up in a dirty cell that smelled of sweat, urine, and most prominent, blood. The air was thick with the taste of blood. Slowly, I sat up, my head throbbing, my mind still foggy from the drug. Where was I? I wasn't in prison, because the prisons were light and clean and metal. This place was dark and grimy and it looked like something that would be from the Roman Empire, like from a gladiator battle or something.

Oh no.

I scrambled to my feet, but dizziness took over and I toppled over again. "What ..." I tried to say, my words all slurred. I tried to stand again, but only succeeded in throwing up in the corner where I was resting.

"Look who's awake," someone said, sounding amused.

"I'm - I'm not supposed to be here," I said frantically, my head spinning, my throat burning. "Please, there's been some sort of mistake."

"That's what they all say," the voice laughed. I looked around, but all I could see was rusty bars in front of me and dirt walls on the other sides.

"You don't understand. I'm not an Unnatural. You have to let me go," I begged.

"I'm not the one to talk to," the voice laughed again. "What do you think, Braken? You think he'll survive the first round?"

Braken? He was here? I stood up again, slowly this time, and stumbled toward the voice, ignoring my weak stomach. There was a tiny, barred window to the next cell near the top of the dirt wall to my right. I looked in and my eyes widened.

Tristam.

He hadn't competed in a few months, but he looked exactly like I remembered. Black hair, pale face, blackened finger tips, a few scars. He was leaning casually against the back of his cell, his hands laced behind his head, and his ankle resting on top of his knee. I could hardly believe it. I really was in the games. I really was going to get my chance to compete out there. As much as I loved the games, I'd never wanted to be a part of them.

There was a larger barred window on the other side of his cell, taking up most of the wall, though the bars were melted and twisted. I could see another guy in there, smaller and younger, with messy brown hair and shocking blue eyes. Braken. He did something with his hands, formed a few symbols that Tristam seemed to understand, and then stared up at me like he was looking into my soul.

"Yeah, me too." The Unnatural turned to look at me and sat up, smirking. "You won't last a day out there."

"I know. That's why I have to get out of here," I pleaded, not necessarily to him, but to anyone who would listen. "I'm not even an Unnatural. They're going to kill me."

"Hey, calm down. You can cut the act with us. Once they've got you, there's no getting out of here. So," Tristam said, as casual as ever, "what's your power?"

"I really don't have one." My eyes filled with tears the longer I stared at him, the longer I thought about what was going to happen to me. I remembered where each of his scars came from, every round I'd watched, every bet I'd won.

"You're serious?" Tristam raised an eyebrow. Braken tapped on the bars and signed something with almost inhuman speed. "Braken's right," the first said. "If you're really not an Unnatural, we have to get you out of here."

"You'd do that?" I whispered.

"'Course I would. Me - I deserve this life. Or ... at least they tell me I do. You ..." He shook his head and formed a little ball of flame in his hand, tossing it back and forth. "You don't deserve it. Well ... maybe you do. Why'd they take you? The Refs don't make mistakes."

"I'm sure it was a mistake," I insisted.

"There are no mistakes," Tristam said firmly. "Why are you here?"

"They thought I helped one of you, okay?" I wailed, giving up. I was going to die here, in the games, for the entertainment of everyone. "She ran into me and grabbed my hand and I didn't know what to do."

Braken looked up so fast that he almost hit his head on the bars. He signed something too fast for Tristam to understand, and had to repeat himself two more times before the other's eyes widened in understanding.

"You're the one," he said, whirling on me again, this time with a crazy glint in his eyes.

"What?" I backed up nervously.

"There was this old wise guy, way back when, and he told me that someday, one of you would come and get me out. Get us all out. You're the one." He was smiling now, smiling like sunshine after years of darkness. "You're going to save me."

"Me?" My voice rose almost an entire octave in pitch. "Not me. You've got the wrong guy. You heard Braken. I won't last a round out there. I'm powerless."

"First, I didn't hear Braken, because Braken doesn't talk." Tristam laughed, sounding almost crazy. "Second, do you have any idea how long I've been here?"

"Seven years," I mumbled.

He recoiled slightly. "How'd you know?"

"They put it in the Post. You're nineteen, and you've been here since you were twelve."

He stared at me for a moment and then cursed softly. "I forgot about the Post." Braken hit the wall hard and gave him a glare, and Tristam rolled his eyes. "Right, sorry. It's about time I got out of this nightmare." He gave me a grin. "So call me Leo. What's your name?"

"Joel," I mumbled.

Braken motioned Leo over and gently took his hand, writing something on his palm with his finger. Leo smiled again and said, "Rogue. They'll call you Rogue."

Why Rogue?

Why me?

Why did I think it was a good idea to stay, to even look like I was helping that worthless girl? All Unnaturals ever brought was pain and death. I was better than this. I was better than them, and I knew because I had lived it for my whole life.

"It's finalist night," a guard - a soldier reminded darkly, strolling down the dark hall between cells. He passed mine and gave me a dark and haughty grin. "I think it's time to let our little firebird have a turn, yeah?"

That was a nickname for Tristam, I knew. They'd wanted to call him Phoenix, but after Rezonate had been caught and entered, they decided that they'd settle with firebird. Even though Rezonate had lost a long time ago, the name stuck.

"Who am I up against tonight?" Leo asked, sounding tired.

"One of the Nerds," the soldier said.

"Just one of them? That'll break the other's heart. Which one?"

I knew they'd been best friends since they'd both been caught together, six years ago. I knew they both had families, but no one knew where they went. The only ones left were Mike and Alex.

"It'll be Alex tonight."

"Who?" at least three Unnaturals called, further down the hall.

"Odden," the man snapped back, and there came back a sullen "oh."

Both of the Pegboard Nerds were known for their "superhero" transformations in the games. They reminded me of comic book characters, but comics and movies of them had been outlawed and destroyed only months after the epidemic that turned these people into monsters. Alex was the one with the hammer, if I remembered correctly. I remember watching one round with him and as soon as my mother had seen the hammer fly down, she'd shrieked and turned off the screen before I could see what happened. I already knew, but it would have been more exciting to see.

"What's the stage tonight, then?" Leo asked.

"Arena," the soldier answered.

Leo chuckled. "That's not very fair, is it? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

"Some of us aren't picky who wins or loses, as long as we're paid," the man growled, turning to Braken's cell. I stood up on my toes to see what was going on. "If you're good, little boy, maybe your loss next week won't be so painful."

"Stay away from him," Leo hissed, lighting his fist on fire.

Lightning fast, the soldier whipped out a long spear-like weapon and jabbed it between the bars of Leo's cell. The point hit Leo in the ribs, and then a jolt of electricity made him scream and stagger back a step, doubling over and squeezing his side.

"You don't give the orders around here," the man said coldly. "I do."

Braken suddenly reached out between the bars of his cell and touched the spear with one finger. Immediately, it crumbled to dust in the soldier's hands.

The soldier jumped back with a yelp. "Don't touch me, you freak," he hissed. Without another word, he stalked away, down the hall to torment more prisoners.

Braken returned to the window and poked his hand in. Leo let him take his arm and write something across his wrist. The two were so gentle with each other. It was hard to remember that they were two finalists.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Leo mumbled, wincing again. Then he cracked a smile and said, "I thought you hated swearing."

Braken just shrugged.

"You can understand all that?" I asked. "And how can he touch you? I thought ..."

"So does everyone else, so you'd better not snitch." Leo sighed and rubbed his side where he'd been hit. "And when you've lived all of your teenage years with someone like Braken, you learn to understand the flow of the universe, per se." He smiled a little and leaned against the wall, and Braken patted his head through the bars. "It's not that hard, actually, if you know what you're looking for. The only problem is when he skips letters, because he never went to school. His ... uh ... guardian tried to teach him how to write and read, but she didn't teach him very well."

I watched silently as Braken brushed Leo's hair with his fingers, gently combing through the tangles. Leo kept talking, but I zoned out and focused on their relationship. They didn't seem to be lovers or anything, just ... brothers. They loved each other very much. They were each other's family. Braken braided a small part of Leo's hair, near his neck, and I noticed lots of other tiny braids, by his ear, by his neck, some longer than others, most very small.

"Hey, Joel, you still on Earth?" Leo said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry." I shook my head and brushed my own hair with my hand.

Leo smirked and gently felt for the new braid. Braken directed his hand until he found it. "They leave out a lot of stuff in the Post and on the screens. The torture you'll find in here - yeah, they'd never show that. We're not human beings, are we?"

"Of course you're not," I said on instinct.

Leo's expression darkened and I quickly apologized. "But they also don't show this. We're all family in here. We're forced to compete, so we know it'll never last, but we're the only ones we've got. And if you're here to tell us how wrong we are, how right your special little 'human race' is, then I'll be the loudest voice to cheer your death." He smiled at me again, though this time, it was a lot more menacing. "So good luck. You're up tomorrow."