Sam couldn't remember ever feeling so uncomfortable in his life. They were disarmed the moment it was clear they would not die at the base of the stairs. As he and Tom started following the strange woman into the darkness, fear slithered up his spine, into his skull and broke his eyes, because everything around him became grotesque and unreal.

The giant hall they'd ended up in gave way to a low tunnel made out of worn out grey stone, lit by tiny lamps emitting an eerie blue light. In his panic, Sam wondered where they were getting electricity from, but decided it was probably from the subway above. It was too dark to see any potential cables on the roof.

The tunnel lead into another cavernous space, this one filled with people and dimly lit by sources he couldn't see. All he could tell was that they came from the floor, because shadows danced on the ceiling in a maddening rhythm that got his head spinning.

Voices filled the tunnel, hissing and growling, spewing words with no meaning, and Sam moved so close to Tom that their shoulders brushed together. He knew it was stupid, that these were nothing but people. But in the moment, paralyzed as he was by fear and pain, all he could see were sunken faces, ravenous eyes and so much darkness.

The woman stopped. Tom did too, and Sam forced himself to at least keep an inch between them.

"Wait here," the woman said and made her way through the crowd.

Sam lowered his eyes, trying not to stare at anyone, not to provoke the rumbling crowd, though he wasn't convinced his posture wasn't already giving him away. Unlike him, Tom looked relaxed and confident, like he belonged there. Sam wanted to ask, to seek reassurance from his twin, but he wasn't sure it was the time.

The crowd suddenly shifted and Sam raised his eyes. Through a sea of tall black people and puffy winter jackets moved a woman. She was pretty short, with black hair laced with red highlights and wore leather from head to toe. Her long trench sweeped the grimy floor, but otherwise looked useless against the raging winter outside.

"Je ne peux croire!" Her grey eyes were fixed on Tom as she spoke, and the more she looked at him, her full lips stretched out into an honest smile. "Tommy!" And just like that, she threw herself in Tom's arms to hug him.

"Hey, Mizrelle," Tom said, hugging her back.

"No one told me you were coming. I can't believe you're here. Which division are you with?" the woman kept saying. Her English was much better than the other woman's, but she still rolled her r's and drew out her e's. "Can you believe I'm head of Paris now? What's your position? Though I'm sure you'll make head in no time."

For the first time, Tom stiffened and it gave Sam a horrible sinking feeling.

"I'm not with any division," he said.

The woman's smile slid off her face and she drew back. "Quoi? Then how..."

"He says he wants to join," the first woman interjected from behind.

Mizrelle drew back some more, her expression falling into a frown. "Oh."

Tom just grinned and shrugged, but Sam couldn't understand anything. What just happened? Who was that woman and how did she know Tom on hug basis?

"Hmmm... "

Sam wasn't sure if he was reading her right, but Mizrelle seemed embarrassed by her outburst.

"Okay," she finally said, her tone devoid of all previous warmth. "So you want to join. Then this must be--" Her eyes finally focused on Sam and her frown deepened. "Jimmy. You never mentioned Jimmy was your twin."

"That's because he's not. This is Sam. My twin."

Mizrelle's gaze shot back to Tom. "What?"

Tom heaved a sigh. "It's a long story. I'll tell it to you sometime. But right now this--" He spun on the spot. "-- is all we have. So if there's anyway you could help us..."

"We don't help outsiders," the first woman spat.

"I thought so," Tom mumbled. "Yup, we're joining."

Mizrelle raised an eyebrow. "Very well." She whipped around and stalked off.

Tom hurried to follow her and Sam trotted along, feeling even more nervous than before. They had a potential ally, but he still had no idea what was going on and it appeared they wouldn't be excused from this mysterious test Tom kept avoiding.

"I hope you brought your big boy pants," Mizrelle mumbled. She threw a fleeting glance at Sam over her shoulder. "Especially you."

"I'm still bringing him as my plus one," Tom said, quickly.

Mizrelle raised both eyebrows this time. "Better than the boring school girl."

Tom gritted his teeth and they finally stopped. They'd reached the back end of the room. Two tunnels opened up on the left and right of the wall before them, while the wall itself supported a platform with a high-back chair on it. It looked comically out of place, like a throne in the middle of the slums.

Mizrelle climbed on the platform and sat on the chair, like an ice queen overlooking her subjects. The crowd shifted, forming a circle around him and Tom, and for the first time, Sam dared look at their faces. Most were interested, but there were some who frowned and scoffed, probably because they could smell his fear.

Two guards, a broad guy with a bald head and tattoos running up to his chin and another who was tall, slim and black, took their place at the edges of the platform, guns out and pointing down, acting like the royal guard. The discrepancy between this bit of protocol and the hole in the ground they were literally in had Sam feeling even more out of place.

"So, then, you want to join us?" Mizrelle asked, her voice haughty and lacking all previous friendliness. "What makes you think you will fit in?"

"I have a criminal record, remember?" Tom said. "Punched a teacher, spent a few nights in jail. The works."

The crowd muttered, the sound seeming to be one of approval. And then, like a pack of overly coordinated wolves, they turned to Sam.

"I... I..." He had nothing. There was absolutely nothing cool or street about him. He was and had always been a complete geek.

"You kidding? My bro's a badass," Tom said unexpectedly. "He can shoot, fight, he's a whizz with maps. He survived for over one month in a jungle and sent a mongoose loose on two people."

Oh, yeah. Sam had totally forgotten about that. It did make him sound a lot cooler than he felt. The crowd's muttering turned impressed as well and Sam bit his tongue not to mention that Tom had gone through a lot more stuff than him. He'd been tortured for heaven's sake.

"Very well." Mizrelle still didn't sound impressed. "So, how will you be splitting your tests?"

"Can't I just take them all?" Tom asked.

The crowd grumbled again at his words, sounding displeased. Mizrelle let out a scoff that made Sam feel like an idiot even if it wasn't directed at him.

"Of course not. You will have to share. One common test and one for each of you, individually."

Sam's stomach did a somersault and he was once again grateful he hadn't eaten anything in a while. Though, to be honest, the lack of blood sugar was probably getting to his head and making everything a lot mistier than it was.

Tom whipped around to face him and grabbed his arm. "Can you break?"

"Break what?"

"Skate, parkour, something..."

"I have absolutely no idea what any of that is supposed to mean," Sam spluttered, because his brain refused to process simple words.

"Fine. I'll take care of that. You do cooperation then, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

"What do you mean whatever the hell that's supposed to mean?" Sam screeched, but Tom ignored him and turned back to Mizrelle.

"Fine then," he said, sounding bored out of his mind for some reason. "Sam will take cooperation, we'll both do your silly self-defence thingie and I'll do the rest."

Silly self-defense thingie. Sam had never wanted to thump his twin more than at that very moment, not even when he'd been drugged up on toxic water.

And he was right to want to thump him. Mizrelle smirk looked simply evil, like she couldn't wait to see their guts spread out on her floors.

"Silly now, is it?" She laughed, high, cruel and ominous, and snapped her fingers. The two men by her throne lowered their arms from their chests and charged at them.

"Immobilize, don't harm," Tom said between his teeth, right before sliding to the floor to avoid a punch from giant tattooed guy.

Which left Sam facing the slimmer, faster one. He dodged the fist coming towards his face, trying to figure out just how he was supposed to immobilize a man whose style was a total mystery. Apparently by dancing around a lot, according to Tom. But Sam had never been that good at ducking and dodging if he couldn't hit back, too. It made him feel stupid for one thing.

He slid to the ground to avoid another hit, and before he could help himself, he kicked the guy in the side of the knee. With a cry of pain, he tumbled to the floor. Even if he'd technically messed up, Sam took the chance and climbed on the guy's back, immobilizing his arms.

"Nice one, Sam," Tom called from the back of his own adversary. The guy was still on his feet, but carrying Tom around was a giant strain on his balance, so he ended up falling to the floor. "Still doubting us, your majesty?" he said to Mizrelle.

"Put your money where your mouth is, kid," she answered, taking out a pistol and throwing it to him. "Both of you."

The crowd suddenly shifted, and only then did Sam remember that they were surrounded and that it was this whole bunch of people that was probably judging them, not Mizrelle. An impressive collection of empty liquor bottles lined up against the wall to the left.

"Shoot the whiskey bottles," Mizrelle ordered. "It's cheap and American, just like you."

Tom scoffed. "I'm pretty sure whiskey is Irish. And Americans were supposed to be uncultured."

"Just shoot them, smartass."

"Don't I get a gun?" Sam asked. He'd rather have his own, but would take anything right now.

Fortunately, someone tossed him a weapon, very randomly and unsafely. But he caught it and he and Tom both aimed at the bottles and started shooting. This was easy. He'd actually greatly improved at target practice over the past months seeing as they basically did this every other day. Tom was even better than him, so this was a test they managed to pass.

As the last bottle exploded in a sea of shards, Sam felt a tiny bit more confident. He wasn't very good at fighting and shooting, but that was compared to other agents, not people hiding out in catacombs. He doubted many of the people down there had his skills. So maybe there was a chance they'd get through this.

❄❄❄

Or maybe not because I'm an evil bastard. 😈

Welcome to the fraternity. And let's give a warm welcome back (for those who have read WI) to Mizrelle! Give her a show of hands. I'm very curious what you think about her and her reaction to seeing Tom.

Also, how do you feel about where Sam and Tom ended up? More description? More atmosphere? Any questions?

Thanks so much for reading and support me with a vote and comment because I'm having a very hard Tom writing lately. 😶