Sup guys! This was my own idea so I had to choose a random category! Hope you enjoy! Comment on what you think!
-LTCF
New York City, 2146
A gun went off. I quickly turned around and pulled the strap of the gun over my shoulder, ready to fire. I crouched behind a trash can, peering over the top. I was in an alley right next to Times Square. There was no risk of someone discovering me, no one would bother anyway. Suddenly, two circles of light appeared against the back wall of the alley. They had brought flashlights. I crouched lower, hoping that my black clothing would disguise me. But I had a feeling it wouldn't.
Eight police officers, or Officials, in shining white official protective clothing, turned down the alley I was in. Sometimes the government had them do nightly patrols. Sometimes people were caught.
My hands shook as I raised the gun. I knew there were too many of them for me to kill them all without being discovered, but I had to try to get away. I aimed there gun at the official to the far right. I took a shaky breath as I loaded the gun. I pulled the trigger, and ran.
The Official fell to the ground. The other Officials gathered around him, all except for three. They trailed me as I winded through the narrow passages of New York City. I looked over my shoulder. They were still trailing me. I swiftly loaded my gun and fired over my shoulder. I heard a groan and a loud thud as one of the officials fell to the ground. I cut hard to the right down another alleyway, but I ran into something. It knocked me backwards so hard that I had trouble standing up. Not long after, the two officials came up behind me. What had I run into? I thought. I looked up to see a standardized trash can towering above me.
"Hands behind your back!" snapped the Official.
I reluctantly do so. The man's voice was low and muffled by his protective helmet. His hands were strong. It hurt as he fastened the handcuffs two notches too tight. I winced.
The Officials led me downtown to the jail. They hadn't seen any of my major crimes, like shooting a civilian that somehow gained knowledge of my identity and where I hid, or robbing the city bank so I could eat. They had only seen me shoot an official, and that was enough to get me arrested.
The Officials threw me into an empty cell without another word. They don't bother saying, "You have the right to remain silent." Most people just do.
I try to get my hands in front of me, but that just resulted in more searing hot pain tearing up my arm. I saw a crack in the wall big enough to fit into the keyhole of the handcuffs. With some difficulty and pain, I managed to get the keyhole into the crack and turn it. The cuffs opened with a snap. I sighed with relief. I reluctantly slid them back onto my wrists, but fastened them loose, just in case.
I gathered my surroundings. I was in a small cell. I gripped the iron bars. Stone cold. I tried to shake them, but they wouldn't budge. There was a small cot in the other side of the room. It smelled foul. Not going to sleep on that, I thought. There weren't any windows, so there was no fresh air. I laid down on the ground. I let my eyes close as I drifted off into a light sleep.
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" yelled the Official. I groggily rubbed my eyes. Still in a cell. Still locked up. So it wasn't a dream.
The Official walked by my cell. He had a bushy brown mustache, and dark gray eyes.
"Get up!" he yelled.
"What a wake up call," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Don't tell me it was nothing! What did you say?"
The Official looked heated, his cheeks flushed red. I knew I had pushed it, maybe a little too far.
"Come with me," he snarled.
What have I gotten myself into? I thought as the officer dragged me past the other inmates. They stared at me as I passed. I could imagine them thinking, this on her first day?
The Official dragged me into a room. The room was dark, lit by only one dim light. It gave off an eerie feeling. On the table was a loop where the handcuffs would hook through and lock so I couldn't escape. I shuddered. Another official sat at the other end of the table, though he wore Commander blue. A shadow was cast over half of his face. He had very high status.
"What is your name?" he asked me.
"Riley," I muttered.
"What's yours?" I blurted.
"Ryan."
The other Official seemed annoyed that he hadn't scolded me yet. I was glad he was annoyed.
"She is here for interrogation," said the Official coldly.
Ryan had his eyes locked on mine. He pulled away.
"Right," he said, almost scolding himself for looking at me, "Right."
Ryan waved the officer away. That left the two of us.
Ryan grabbed a syringe full of blue liquid. Truth serum.
He stuck the needle into my neck. I winced. I felt the effect of the serum immediately. My vision fogged up. I felt dizzy and tired.
"What other crimes have you committed, other than shooting an Official?"
He put an extra bit of power on the word Official.
"I shot a civilian, robbed a bank, live illegally," I blurted.
His bright blue eyes hardened.
"Let's check your files. Maybe you have parents."
My files. My files held all of the information on my mother and father. I already had 6 black marks. Now they have to add another three.
"Let's see…How many black marks…" said Ryan, scanning the papers.
"I know I have 6," I said, fighting the restraints that bound my hands. I felt trapped.
"Dangerous criminals have 6 or more. You, my dear, have stepped way over the line. The Pit will serve you well."
My stomach dropped. The Pit was a deep, dark pit in the middle of the ocean. When the continents drifted together to form one big continent, a gap in the ocean on the other side of the world was created, and because of erosion, it became a pit. where all of the countries put their most dangerous criminals in an annual "Pit Disposal" every year to fight to the death until only one remained. The single survivor would receive food, medicine, and weapons for the next Pit Disposal. The victor would fight again until he or she lost and another took their place. If you go into the Pit, you never come out.
Tears began to form in my eyes. I tried to blink them away.
"Out!" he yelled.
My hands still trembling and sweating, I trudged out the door. The Official looked at me suspiciously as I walked myself back to my cell. We were deep underground so no one could escape. What am I going to do? I thought as I hugged my knees on the floor of my cell.
"You alright?" said a voice behind me.
I turned my head to find another inmate in the cell with me.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"Hunter Derext."
"What do you want?"
"Nothing now that I'm going into the Pit for the third time."
I looked at him bewildered. No one survived three Pit Disposals.
"When are we going in?" I asked.
"5 days."
I shook my head. At least I had a little time.
"What are you in for?" he asked.
"Shooting an Official, robbing a bank, shooting a civilian, living illegally. You?"
"Shooting an Official, robbing a bank, shooting multiple civilians, living illegally."
I laughed, although a friend can turn into an enemy very quickly in the Pit.
"Why aren't you afraid of me? Most people are," Hunter asked.
I couldn't answer that question myself. I felt an odd sort of ease around him. It felt distant, but almost familiar. I shrugged.
"I don't know."
Hunter cleared his throat nervously and stroked his hand through his hair.
"I can help you win, you know. I've won before," he said.
"Why would you want to help me?"
"Because I don't want to be alone anymore."
A memory hit me like a slap. I was laying in my hammock in the alley of 34th and Broad St. I was alone, trying to fall asleep, but it proved difficult. Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I swung out of the hammock, finger on the trigger of my gun, ready to shoot. The boy was probably 16, about my age. He put his hands up in surrender.
"Who are you and what do you want?" I snapped at him.
"Hunter."
"Why are you here?"
"Because I don't want to be alone anymore."
We stayed together for months, protecting each other, caring for each other. Then one day, Hunter was captured by the Officials.
It was only two years ago. We were in an alley that exposed us. But we were too tired to move any further.
"Is it really safe?" 18 year old Hunter said.
We were only 18 then. I had almost forgot we were so young.
"It's only one night. We'll be fine," I had told him.
That day we had gone to the only black market in the city, The Privateer. The Privateer was 18 miles from the alley we "lived" in. But to tell you the truth, it wasn't really living.
A few hours after we settled down, I felt uneasy. Maybe Hunter was right. Hunter was always right. I rolled over to see his body steadily rising and falling. And then I heard the footsteps.
"Hunter," I whispered.
But he didn't move.
"Come on, Hunter."
He still didn't move.
I knew what I had to do. I had to save myself.
Tears streaming down my face, I said, "Goodbye Hunter."
And then I turned and ran.
I blinked and was brought back to reality.
"Hunter!" I said.
"Riley," he said, hugging me tightly.
"Damnit, I thought I lost you!"
"I thought I did too-whoah. Bad language."
I had almost forgotten that Hunter didn't cuss. For me cussing was as easy and natural as breathing.
"Listen," I said, pulling him closer, "We have to survive next week. We can do it. We can do it together."
"I know. I have extra supplies from the last disposal. They are in the far right corner of the Pit."
I took his hand and gripped it tightly in mine. His eyes met mine, full of curiosity. And then he leaned in and kissed me.
I didn't know what to expect. I knew it would happen between us at some point. I didn't know how it would feel, or what it would be like. I hesitated for a moment, but then embraced it. He was apart of my broken family again.