I am thinking of making these chapters of the ten day survival ring relatively short. As much as I want to put as much detail into the fights, and into the challenges they are going to be facing the next few chapters- I also don't want to bore anyone with the dragging on of the story (Hopefully no one feels that way). Tell me what you think of the chapter or story thus far! I love reading feedback, and hope there are readers that have stuck around this far!

ooo

The fire snapped like a snake and coiled around them both, burning their backs together in a hiss. The ring of fire tightened every lap it made around their torsos, melting through skin and fabric. The air stunk of charring clothes.

"Seriously... you bring the Undead here?" The woman soul said, clearly frustrated by the stern tone she held, "How reckless can you be?"

"Can't uh, say it was on purpose." Haley groaned, attempting to remain as still as possible to not further the dig of flame into her body.

She shook her head, "Clearly."

The banging on the steel door intensified and Diarmuid turned his face to his enemy, or rather, enemies, behind him. Two, astonishingly beautiful women stood steps away. The woman with medium hair as scarlet as the blaze she commanded, speared them with her aquatic eyes. The woman behind her cringed, barely in view. Both had noticeable lacerations all along their bodies, that were barely held together by torn clothing and bandages...

Opportunity rang the dinner bell, and while he'd rather not use his mole for its intended purpose, enemies were enemies. Diarmuid dipped his face, so the mole would be entirely in their view, "Might we discuss this later? I fear our end to be near, should we not flee."

The woman sucked her pointed teeth, while her middle finger and thumb slid across one another in a loud snap. Bright oranges and reds danced along the side of the woman's body and shot across the distance, sliding into the cracks of the door. The Undead screeched behind it, and the pounding turned to scrambling that got lost in the snapping and crackling of an inferno behind it.

Stepping closer to the moronic duo in front of her, she debated ending them now, or after some of her fiery work... But It would be too devastating to blaze that alluring face she stroked with her finger tip. The ratchet girl on the other hand...

"Wow, you're pretty." The fiery woman's eyes slanted to her Detainer, who pulled at the sleeves of the man's jumpsuit, "Kenna, can we keep him?"

What the F-? Disbelief slapped Haley's wide eyes as her head flung to the Detainer that at first trembled behind her Forsaken, now clung to Diarmuid like a lost puppy.

Something dark flickered behind the young woman's auburn eyes. She looked no older than a teenager, not with those large eyes, dainty hands, and small figure. Goosebumps traveled down Haley's neck as the blistering hot gaze of the girl sized them up like their next meal.

Diarmuid, please tell me you have a plan before we melt or something. She thought to him, wincing from blistering skin under the further sinking rope of tiny wildfire.

I do.. forgive me if this displeases you. He offered his most flattering smile to the flickering pair of eyes planted on him, "Ladies, should you release me, those terms could be negotiable."

Kenna's finger trailed down his neck to the collar of his jumpsuit. Her talon-like nail tore the hem of his caller, dragging down the slow bearing of his chest from her finger tip. If only the Forsaken knew what offering himself to her meant. "I could.. release you." She muttered in a seductive whisper, as she grazed her lips against his. Her heart was barely a flutter, as she imagined what she would do to this man with her flames. "What are you thinking?"

"My Detainer lives, and I am yours. It would not bode well for you if she dies, and my soul is stripped as the result, yes?"

Haley eyes shot to the cracked ceiling. Her ears were playing tricks on her. Was he really offering himself to these women? Did they even buy it? She caught when the woman brazenly swept her lips across Diarmuid's, and he didn't even flinch. All the while she felt heat filling her cheeks, and it wasn't from the fire carving lines into her skin. Was his reaction him showing his approval of her advances to convince her he was interested? iWas/i he? Oh dear lord, she needed water.

Her heart stammered in her chest. Decisions, decisions. The Forsaken was so magnetic. His right eye matched her dancing infernos, his hair swayed like brush fire being carried by the wind, the bare skin under his jumpsuit that revealed the lining of a scar that Kenna assumed grew under the untorn fabric... What else was he hiding under their matching attire?

Daring to find out, (and char her own personal ravages to his ligaments...) she smirked, "Oh darling, I cannot resist," she wet her lips with a roll of her tongue, "But your ugly little Detainer leaves. Since you belong to us and all."

"You know, I'd say go to hell, but technically you're already on your way there, so..." Haley scowled and the back of Diarmuid's ankle clucked against her own. The reflex had her jerk against the restraints and resisted dramatically to not just mentally break them apart. The embers burned cooler, but were still steadily nipping away at the barriers between skin and muscle.

"Ohh, did you see that, Kenna? He is already on our side!" The young ladies hands clasped together, while almost leaping completely out of her track shoes.

Yeah, that's what that was. Keep thinking that... freggin nutcases. Haley thought to herself, and Diarmuid's laugh erupted in her thoughts. Oops, did she just share that with him by accident?

"I can agree to those terms." Diarmuid said hastily, taking opportunity where it allowed from the young ladies outburst. It was rather shameful to take advantage of women who have lost the will to fight because of his face, but it was all to save his Master, so he used the means at his disposal.

The black, frilly haired girl's small lips curled up with pure mischief, "I cannot wait to see, and hear the pain exit your pretty lips!"

The whip of flame unraveled, and then shot like a snake and restrung itself around Diarmuid's waste from the woman's right hand, binding him once again. He winced with a hiss, as the fire licked his curled, tender flesh. He prolonged his soul long enough for her do whatever twisted things her imagination come up with. He surveyed the lobby for additional strategies, and came up with a plan for each, should any of them follow.

A second unraveled from Kenna's left hand and it curled around Haley once more while she released a sharp, sibilant sound. She raised into the air and was tossed to the stair case being swallowed by greenery with pure fineness. She sucked her teeth, and pushed off the leafage. She was to leave Diarmuid alone with the psychopaths, who were shaving away the material of his jumpsuit.

She nestled her lower lip with her top teeth, and turned away to scurry to the second floor floor of the complex. She had to trust his plan. Doing so has worked out for them thus far, she only hoped he wouldnt be an ash tray by the end of it.

oooo

An honorable fight, all of which still not possible, it seemed. Only against the Hosts had he settled would such a fight be possible, and that felt even to be a stretch. He had not forgotten to where he was, and of course understood it would take a part in the opponents he would face but this...

A woman taking joy in melting the victims she blazed, and a little girl who enjoyed it ravishing her was mind boggling. She insisted to be taken first, but the Kenna woman refused for there were still nine days to survive hear before any healing could be done. Which of the two were more susceptible? The naively smitten one, or the blazing one who was merely lusting over his despair under her flames?

It was all too maddening. Now that his Master was at a safe distance he could-

Taking the blaze into his bare skin, he flattened himself into the distorted flooring to avoid an arrow that zipped past his person into the leg of the pouting girl. He cringed as the flurrying fire burned hotter from his retreat, and was aggravated the lasso only stretched longer, than bringing the wielder with him.

Susie yanked the projectile from her thigh and examined her blood on the tip with a grin, "Ohh, that felt nice! Do you have more, mis enemy?"

Tch, her Detainer was a lovely pain. Kenna figured there were others hiding in his apartment tower, and got distracted by the handsome Forsaken. Her eyes became slits as she fanned her fire in a wave towards the direction the arrow slung from.

The main desk at the center was seared with red, and the metal crunched while being hurtled towards them, and with two fingers signalling her flame, it sliced the material in half. A barrage of arrows came soon after, and was nothing she was frightened of. The joke of battle shriveled underneath her flame and out of the smoke leaped a woman, bow aiming for her Detainer. Palms up, the smoke reformed into an inferno around her.

Her melodic screams enchanted her ears, and she tried to get a glimpse of the woman's Detainer. They were an easy enemy to eliminate now that her Forsaken was like a melting pot on the tile. She returned her attention to the Forsaken that vowed himself to her to get his assistance when her eyes widened.

A slit throat smiled back at her, as a man's quivering hand dropped Susie from his sausage like fingers. Before he could run - before she would collapse from the limbs that tensed with tightness - she stabbed through his belly with the fire rope, letting it devour his body with a burning flare.

Diarmuid's knife sealed the final strike, turning the woman and striking her clean through the heart. Jaded, blue eyes turned back to him, when he pulled the weapon from her, "I answer to only one woman. To her I will serve my loyalty, and no other. I am sorry to have deceived you."

The woman's eyes slanted, then glimpsed only the floor. He raised his stare to the two fallen Detainers in front of him, one whose screams halted the moment he dug his weapon into the one responsible for his suffering. He observed him previously, as they readied their weapons. He assumed they didn't strike prior because they were waiting for him and his Master to meet their end, first. A wise strategy, he supposed, since two against 4 would of have been disastrous.

He felt lucky his intuition turned out to be true, for it weren't, things would not have turned out as they did. Assuming Haley's retreat made their pursuit not worthwhile, being it would reveal their location, they seemingly targeted the girl. If only they knew she was a heretic who pleasured the pain inflicted upon her. In their skirmish, the flames around him fell, and only made sure they would not return by finishing the Kenna woman.

Shaking his head and stepping past the rotting, melting flesh that burned his nose, Diarmuid went to where he discerned his Master's location. All the while, over his shoulder, he heard the gliding flow of Shadows vacuuming their victims souls and refused to look back.

oooo

With magic writhing to heal the burns and torn flesh, Haley dug her nails into her palms. The wounds itched, and pained her beyond belief, while she ducked into one of the rooms of this building's apartments. The halls were lined with more of those undead, and with no defense against them with Diarmuid being away.. She could only hide behind the crushed bed like a little girl.

She glanced at her left hand, the red seal still lingering. She wondered if Diarmuid were to be defeated - if it would disappear like it would in a grail war. She swallowed, covering the mark with her right hand. Peering at the watch that fitted around her wrist, she thought of an idea,

"Sponsors, if youre watching, do you have something for the burns?" Haley said to the cameras she were sure lingered somewhere around here. Like god answering a prayer, the air shimmered and a box labelled, "first aid" with a little red plus sign dropped from the space. She dragged the box and emptied its contents and was surprised there were more than just something for the burns. There were bandages, rags, medicines, and other fancy medical things.

She pulled off her short sleeved shirt, leveled her bra straps off the burns on her arms, and lowered her jeans to her knees to expose her wounds. She was thankful that they had not stuck to the swelling, and were instead split where the ring of embers dug. Remembering what she read in medical books for burn treatment, she dampened the cloth with one of the water bottles in the duffel bag she had and applied it to the blistering and swelling lines along her body.

The sting was immeasurably, but she wrapped her arms, chest, torso, and top of her thighs in the bandages, thankful that the duffel bag protected parts of her back and lower area. The control that woman had, she had not seen anything like it. A sigh escaped her lips, and just as she was to call to Diarmuid in her mind, she heard the door snap shut and clenched her fists at her side. She was not in the condition for anyone to-

"My Lady...?" Diarmuid's head popped around the bed, and heaved with relief. She almost laughed when he immediately turned away from her revealing body, and swore she saw his cheeks flush, "Sorry, I had not meant to see you undressed." He immediately tried to rectify the situation that wasn't even one, and she giggled. Her stare then rested on the wounds he was inflicted as well.

She lost herself a little in thought, thinking back to when she had first received burns as bad as they had now. Never a pleasant memory when thinking of her father, anymore. If she were to be the best healer imaginable, it was necessary to knew how to repair any sort of injury. Burns included, and of course the best way to know them fully, was to experience it herself. Those days, laying in bed in agony, barely able to see through the crust of her eyelids, unable to move without feeling her charred skin would collapse...

There was a silence that progressed longer than usual, and Diarmuid braved a glance over his shoulder. She had that pale look he remembered stained her features when she was lost in her past. Swallowing his pride, he completely faced her - but made sure his stare remained at eye level - and knelt to place a hand on her shoulder, "Lady Haley," it was if she was snapped back into reality by his voice, "I am here, if you wish you to speak of it."

She shook her head, and pat her cheeks with her palms, "Sorry. No, that's okay, I mean, I'm fine." She lifted the straps of her bra over her shoulder to prevent anymore things revealing their selves to him, "But we should treat your wounds, too."

His nod signaled his approval, and while his glance averted once more, his eyes closing to avoid any accidents, she only held hers on his scorched, yet beautiful body. The line of his chest was peeking at her from the strip the woman had made in the center of his jumpsuit. Gulping at the thoughts plaguing her wandering mind, she unbuttoned the jumpsuit down to his waist and he slid out of the long sleeves. Gorgeous, elevated pectoral muscles followed by the bumps of trained abdominal muscles sung to her. The outline of his v peeped mischievously as her from where the jumpsuit folded over his pants line.

A firm line called her attention to it, despite the mural that was his body, and the burns that needed attention. A nervous hand from hers ran the edge of her finger tips grazing gently against the mark. This was where...

She didn't know what came over her, but before she knew it, after she brushed the blemish with her hand, her eyes closed, and her lips tapped the scar. She pulled away almost immediately, feeling heat raise to her ears. She studied the raggedy rug under her knees, and hoped he was not angry with such an impulsive - and careless - action.

However, when she looked up at him through her lashes, his smile was warm and welcoming, and his eyes softened,

"I don't.. believe that to be a wound necessary of mending, my lady." He said with a playful chuckle. Her delicate kiss did wonderful things to his insides, and he almost looked to her to thank her for her kindness but... it was.. inappropriate, no?

That delightful tug at her lips made her heart flutter, but the blemish under the burn strips across his belly that almost led right to the fatal wound from Gae Dearg sung to her next. His life, just like her own, did not treat him fairly. Every elaborate blemish that carved into him was proof of that. In a way, she was oddly jealous of it. His scars were proof of his life... The one thing she despised most about her body was its perfection. With every healing that had done... there was not trace of the cruelties she endured. Part of why she never went to anyone for help.. who believe a girl was tortured when everything about her suggested otherwise?

"Did.. I say something wrong, my Lady?" Diarmuid asked her, his eyes still pressed shut, since he had decided it was best not to react oddly to her original gesture.

She shook her head quickly,

Snap out of it, Haley. She scolded herself, "No, it's not you. I keep losing myself in thought. Sorry."

Sighing, she applied the same medical treatment to him as she did herself, thankful he didn't receive any further damage in the quick moments leading him to her once again. Once she was finished, and they both looked like mummies from the ancient crypt, they reapplied their burnt clothes and debated what to do next.

Diarmuid and his bright ideas thought to ask the sponsors for the weapon she bought, since she was awarded the medical supplies doing the same thing. Aggravated she didn't think of that, the sword appeared, but with a note stating only Diarmuid to be allowed to use it. She did not care, it was something against the many issues they were facing already in the Arena. She almost tossed the note when Diarmuid pointed out that the symbol on it was different than the one on the supply kit they got. That was.. two out of the three that helped them, then?

The hard rain ceased to a mere drizzle, and light flooded the cracked window. They shuffled through the room to the broken down apartment, to find anything useful. Besides broken tables, overturned beds, open drawers and the scattering of clothes and garbage, it seemed to have already been looted. Possibly by the previous competitors, or just the look the Arena's were going for when replicating a plague stricken city.

Disappointed the water bucket they had was dreadfully gone, she squeaked open the door to see if those undead still lingered outside. To her dismay, they definitely did. Was it even possible to defeat those things? The woman prior, - that Diarmuid informed her of what happened when they were scoping out the apartment - was able to scare them away with fire. But they didn't have anything of the sort.

Closing the door, they were trapped like little rats in a maze of buildings, Undead, and other competitors. Deciding that jumping out the window into the unknown was probably a bad idea given their condition, they barricaded themselves in the small apartment. Survive, that was their only goal. Not seeking out enemies to dwindle numbers, or to rack up some rewards that were not worth the lives of people, they waited.