Author note - Yes I know the chapters are short - sorry. I was in a hurry, I guess. I actually did try combining all of these chapters into maybe two chapters, but it was on another computer and then I realized I didn't have internet...so...don't worry. My chapters are gonna get totally longer, I just wanted to get these chapters out there. the last one sucked, I know. It looked like it was only a hundred words or something.

Also I will try to update as often as possible, but y'know how it is when you run out of ideas and you want to keep updating because you'd want it to be updated if you were a reader, but then you don't want to sound cheesy or rushed. You want the story to be good, y'know. But anyways. I do like the whole Jackson and Melissa grouping. I like Taylor just fine, but y'know. I'm not gonna make any of them jerks, because the show doesn't...they're all pretty decent. There will be a huge twist coming up there so don't worry, Jackson won't be a 'slave' forever.

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Jackson heaved the barrell of water up, grinding his teeth against the absurd weight. He slowly began to pour the water into the large basin the chief used as a bath. Jackson couldn't even begin to guess what chump usually poured the chief's bath water, but it was gruesome work. He had to lug the water from the ocean to the fire and heat it up and then lug it all the way up the hill and pour it into the chief's basin. And then he had to start over again. He was forced to do this five or six times and his arms and legs were throbbing. He felt ready to pass out. Maybe he should have chosen death.

"That is enough water," the chief said relunctantly. Jackson grunted, letting the barrell fall to the ground but resisting the urge to pass out as well. The chief hadn't been so kind after Jackson insulted Balthazar, but in truth, it wasn't just science that prevented him from believing in any form of god.

He lived with his parents for ten years of his life. It wasn't an ideal environment but the most normal and wholesome thing they ever did was attend church. Despite the neighborhood they lived in, everybody seemed to put aside time to visit church. It was rediculous. But Jackson was pretty much into it. Until his parents got divorce. his mother had been this huge christian, and drug addict, and his father just put up with her for reasons Jackson still didn't know. His mother ended up dying. As it turned out, she died all dressed up, all ready to go visit God. Jackson still couldn't get over the irony. Sure, evolution and atoms and whatever were very logical, but maybe if his mother hadn't died he would have actually been a christian and all the more nicer and sociable. Of course, if he was a Christian, he would have been ruder to the chief about his Balthazar.

"You, American, will be my representative in the games that will take part in the ritual ceremony," the chief informed a sweaty Jackson.

"What games?" Jackson panted.

"There are many games - many trials that occur for the sake of pleasing Balthazar. He will dictate what games young Americans partake in." Chief turned his head slightly, staring Jackson down.

"Balthazar will be..attending your games?" Jackson asked.

"Balthazar attends everything," the chief replied.

"In person? Like actually there?" Jackson pressed. He was sure if the chief meant in spirit or in the trees or in possession of a tribesmen. Religious people were weird.

"Yes," the chief man answered, agitated. "He will be the judge of all games. You will finally be at his mercy."

"When does he kill me?" Jackson asked bluntly.

"Tomorrow night," the chief answered but he didn't seem very upset about it. "Go prepare for the games, American."

"And if I don't, you'll what? Kill me?" Jackson pressed.

"There are worst things than death. Has America not learned that yet?" the chief asked. Was he mocking Jackson? "We will not kill you, not until Balthazar deems it time. But there will be great punishments. You will prey for death long before it is time. Go prepare for the games, American."

Jackson grunted again, walking away. He hated being backed into this corner, he hated not dictating his life. Sure, he was pretty much forced into foster care, but that was different. He was still himself there. He still controlled how they treated him, he still reacted to their treatments how he had wanted to. Now he had no choice. He wasn't an athlete. What would the chief do if he lost?

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"That is a huge camp," Taylor exclaimed. "Why can't we have a camp like that?"

"Because we've been here for two months, not forever," Nathan replied dryly. "And there's seven of us and probably at least a hundred of them. And they have a leader. And -"

"It was a rhetorical question, Nathan," Daley told him gently. "How are we going to get to Jackson?"

"Better question - how are we gonna smuggle him out without totally dying?" Eric asked.

"How long do we have until it's too late?" Nathan asked.

"We probably have until tomorrow, at least," Lex answered quickly before anyone else could asked another question. He pointed. "Those are games. And they're being set up. These are ancient tribes, I don't think they set up games just for fun. They're probably still doing their rituals and they're probably doing games today."

"Games?" Eric repeated.

"Ancient Greece and Rome used to do it," Lex answered. "It's a sort of trial, to show to you God, or whoever that you're willing to do anything to win for them."

"Oh, no," Melissa said. "What if they make Jackson participate?" She took a deep breath. "He's not a team player, Nathan."

"It's not standard precedure to make prisoners participate in holy games," Lex reasoned.

"Unless of course they're being sacrificed, right," Eric asked. Melissa and Nathan switched worried glances.

"why else would they want Jackson?" Nathan asked loudly.

"Why else would they wait so long to take him -- to take us. It's for the rituals!" Daley agreed.