Disclaimer: Drugs kill dreams…and no dreams deserve to die, they didn't do anything wrong…okay never mind. I don't own anything but the idea and Marc Maseon.

A.p.R. - Wow…thanks to all my reviewers. You guys rock…or roll whichever you prefer.

--------------Does anyone but me notice how much fire I'm not on?--------------

Cold air blew tiny shards of snow onto his face, stinging him each time. He shivered involuntarily as his limp hand grazed the snowy ground below. His palm opened and gripped a handful of snow but quickly pulled away when he felt the cold burn him. Unconscious he lays there, on a sleeping bag in the snow.

"Wake up!" A voiced boomed in his ears, "Get ready it's time."

He slowly opened his eyes, but quickly shut them as the cold air chilled them. He finally was able to keep his eyes open, he looked around and saw nothing but snow and trees surrounding him.

"Where…where the Hell am I?" Marc thought.

"Hurry up I don't got all day!" Said the voice, amplified by a P.A. system.

"Where…where the hell am I? How did I get here, who are you?!" He demanded.

"The names James, kid, and that's all you need to know." The voice growled.

"James…whoever you are, what do you want with me?"

"Just for you to take a test."

"What kind of test?!"

"A survival test; if you pass you survive if you fail you die."

"And if I refuse?!"

"You Die. To make this a little more interesting I've hidden supplies and clothes around this forest behind you."

"You have to be kidding me." Marc mumbled.

"No joke kid. It's 11:00 pm, you'll have 24 hours starting now if you live you pass, do anything to survive."

He stood there in only his PJs, which consisted of no more than shorts and a tank top. A gun shot rang out, he hit the ground, "What the hell?!" He yelled leaping up and sprinting off into the forest with shots firing behind him.

He was running like he never ran before; dodging branches, hurdling bushes and logs. He had no clue what was going on, all he could think of was the shots behind him, all he knew was he didn't feel to fondly about being shot. All of a sudden no shots could be heard, he stopped, his feet cold and bleeding from running over the twigs and rocks on the frozen snowy ground.

"How far did I run? Does it really matter?" Marc thought.

Right that instant, something caught his eye. "No it couldn't be…it is…" It was his uniform hanging on a tree. It looked warm; he crept over to it and was within a few feet, "Just a little farther," Marc said reaching for it, "got it!"

As he grabbed it, he heard a snap and jumped out of the way. Luckily, his good hearing saved him from that barrel of water that probably was meant to send him into a state of hypothermia. This James guy clearly was not playing around.

After quickly sliding into the uniform and putting on the shoes, he found under a fresh pile of snow, he gathered a bunch of twigs from the ground, piled them and tried to torch them but it wasn't working. "God damnit work!" He kept trying and was about to go crazy.

'Wait, they're not lighting because they're wet…I am so stupid!' He thought then began to gather some rocks, twigs, and small branches off the trees. He put the sticks on the rocks and the ignited them. That feeling you get when you are truly happy, it was nothing compared to how he felt sitting there close to the fire.

"1:37 am, you're doing all right but you still have 22 hours." The voice rang out.

What he would not give just to meet this guy and give him a beating. Flashlights turned on, where did they come from? All around him. Run!

"Running and running and more running is that all I'm going to be doing for the next twenty-something more hours, oh yeah, I can't forget the not dieing part." He thought with in his panicked state of mind.

The running wasn't as bad this time because of the shoes. In addition, there was some good news, he beloved that his feet were healed; the bad news is that he couldn't feel them.

"How are they keeping up with me…wait no they're catching up to me! Is that a cave? Could I hide out there for awhile?" He had to lose them first or he was going to be as good as caught. As good as dead.

He did a 180 and, all in one quick motion, lit the path around him in a brilliant blaze, enough so it would not be able to be passed through unless they had a huge fire extinguisher or a lot of water. He did not even take the time to admire his handiwork he just made a beeline for that dark and dank cavern that could be his only hope for sanctuary. For survival. It was as was to be expected, it was dark and damp the only good thing besides it hiding him from "them" was since he was inside the wintry draft couldn't reach him.

He used his hand as a torch to navigate his way around the cave and even though he had been here for only a few minutes and he couldn't hear "their" steps anymore. That was a calming thought to him as his heart was going a mile a minute. He sat on a nearby rock, hoping to ease his body, but as soon as he did, all of his muscles tightened up and he fell to the ground. He looked at himself for the first time since he had put the uniform on, his uniform had been torn and bloody, and knew why. Even with Logan's temperature training, his body could not take the extreme cold. His stomach growled and realized that he was starving. He hadn't eaten the night before because Kitty was cooking and the others told him that he was better off not eating.

Unexpectedly, a sound of the grass crunching outside was heard. He closed his eyes and tried to focus directly on it, it was directly outside the cave! A light shown into the cave and though it didn't spot anyone inside, it came very close to. "They" gave up and continued searching, but he waited until he could not hear footsteps anymore. He also made a very weird observation, he couldn't hear "them" breathing. He though maybe he was going crazy, but could have sworn that "they" didn't breathe.

His wounds where healing, he could hardly feel them. So spreading his hands out to try, against the will of his battered body, to force myself to his feet. However, when he pushed he felt razor sharp pain rippling throughout his left palm. He stopped himself from shouting by nearly biting his tongue off.

He carefully felt around the floor of the cave to find the cause of this pain. He lit his pointer finger, just barely so he could see but not be seen. It was a small hunting knife; he grabbed it and slid it into his bootstrap.

"I could use it to defend myself." He thought then his stomach growled and find food. "It's convenient that this is here…wait…James said he'd left… supplies…Shit he knows I'm here."

Several lights suddenly lit the cave with a brilliant, almost blinding, light. He had no choice. He had to run…

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Horrible place to end the chapter, I know…but…oh well. The next two will make up for it.

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