Chapter three

Nine

Unfortunately, the new cell isn't Ritz standard or the penthouse in the John Hancock centre, and it'd be a stretch to give it one star, but I'm relieved that I have a bed. A wonderfully warm bed that doesn't feel like it's been constructed of nails. But I'm wary of the hospitality that the Mogs are showing me, it can only lead to something bad.

In my cell there's a toilet and sink and I'm going to have three meals a day, which to my surprise, is not a mixture of gruel and protein, but decent food like steak. I should probably check if it's poisoned or whatever, but a guy's got to eat.

And now that's the charms gone, I always tense. Waiting for the moment to pounce when the doors are opened, expecting there to be an explosion any second. My heart thunders for some adrenaline, but I'm still stuck in this one cell. And the others… I have no idea where they are, but facing the Mogs is going to be more difficult without me kicking their asses.

And I feel guilty that they're alone, but now all I can do is wait.

There's no way in hell I can break out of here. The force field is stronger than I can remember, buzzing with energy and flickers of purple light. I always had an intense hatred the colour purple. It's fate.

"Good morning Nine," her voice purrs from outside the cell. One of the many strange things about the cell is that there appears to be no doors – only a little slot where food is passed through.

And yet another strange, but expected thing in the cell; there's a secret door! Damn, the Mogs need to sort out their clichés, hot girls in bikinis hand feeding me steak really wouldn't hurt. Note to self; suggest that.

I imagine her in a bikini feeding me steak and I have to admit, it's probably one of the best thoughts of the day.

She saunters in, with Ivan trundling behind her and from the looks of it they just had an argument; Ivan's neck is raw red, and despite her emotionless face, she still looks as if she's going to slap someone, most likely Ivan. Dekkan isn't here – I guess the lanky guy got cut off. Tough luck for him.

The girl's hair is tied up and I can finally see the nape of her neck. It's pale and looks vulnerable in the way a porcelain doll is. I bet I could snap it in two seconds.

"We're going to blindfold you and take you to one of the investigation rooms. If you cooperate, you won't be hurt," Ivan drones like he's rehearsed it millions of times, and then he smiles cruelly, "Well, barely."

She's crossing her arms, fingers drumming and she barely glances at me, her lips are pursed and she's probably a million miles away. I'll need her distracted if I'm going to make my breakthrough. I'll leap at Ivan first – although he exceeds my height, I know I can beat him if it came man to man, and I'll have the edge of surprise.

Of course the Mog cannon is something to take into consideration. It's like him; big, mean and god damn ugly. I'll have to remove that first. It will just be embarrassing if I get stunned in the first five seconds.

She, on the other hand, will be less of a threat physical. Also, she already seems thrown off guard. Although she's built catlike there's still a sense of her being powerful, but if it did turn into a wrestling match, I'd win hands down.

Subsequently, I'll kick some Mog ass and escape this damn place and chill with my fellow Gardes until the next battle. Simple, plan complete.

Ivan stares at me, his nose wrinkled as if I'm a piece of shit, he holds out a blindfold, "Well?"

First thoughts of someone producing a blindfold are always sexual, so I bit my lip to suppress my laughter and I can taste blood. I can't imagine the guy going down in Mog history as the greatest romantic wooer.

This is the time I've been waiting for; he's too annoyed that I took too long to answer to think sensibly.

I lunge with all my strength at him; and that's a whole lot of strength. Like I suspected, I caught him completely unaware and I probably couldn't have chosen a better window. His gaze widens as I heave him on to the floor.

My hand goes straight to the Mog cannon at his side like planned. It only takes one punch to crunch it, I'm slightly astonished at my own strength. But I'll marvel at my own force later, right now I need to escape.

Ivan starts to twitch his muscles having a war against mine. I'm tempted to rip off his head, but that would cause a slight delay if done properly. I'll have to deal with just making sure he's immobile. Alas, the milliseconds I've spent debating what to do with him, he turns me over and pins me to the ground.

Shit, I've underestimated his own strength. Nice one Nine.

With hippo boy looming on top of me, I get a better look at his scar. Whatever it is, that thing is not natural. It looks too severe, as if someone's just ripped his head off, realized that was a mistake and sowed in back on. If I had a say in that, Ivan's head being separated from his body would be a preferable thing.

He knees me in the groin and I yell something unintelligible. The burn is sharp and painful, and if I probably wasn't against time I'd spent an hour or two recovering on the floor. But now's no time to pray for my poor groin. But the son of a bitch will pay.

I attempt to dominate him, my ankles rap around his knees, allowing me to rollover, straddling Mr Hippo. I can almost smell the sweet scent of victory. I punch him twice, the first one breaks his nose with an audible crunch causing blood to splutter – that one was just to make him feel pain. The second punch flies at his temple, stopping big old Ivan struggling, his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's out.

I rotate to the Mog cannon and throw it in the camera in the left corner, I noticed it earlier while playing 'Find the spy camera's before I pee because I don't want anyone staring at my junk'. And both times my aim is successful, the camera's fizzing before it gives a minor explosion. Of course if anyone was paying any attention, they would have seen the fight and alarmed everyone. But for now, the coast is clear and very quiet.

One to Number Nine.

"Having fun there, are we?" She asks, her voice is velvety soft. I stumble backwards, I completely forgot about her. She was utterly silent whilst sulking in the shadows when I was teaching Ivan a lesson.

Here lies the question; fight or flight? I could escape and probably make it out, even if she lets out a warning as soon as I bolt out of the door. And it'd be fun, I like a challenge. Or I could battle her, the odds of me escaping out alive is even less than before, but destroying her beautiful face would be a big benefit.

I'm going for the latter as I remember her smirk as she mentions Maddy and Sandor, as if she knew everything about them, knew everything I had been through in the Mog cell in Virginia. As if she knew all the damn suffering, but she didn't even care. And as much as I hate myself for it, I hater her too.

I flex my muscles.

"I'm about to have a lot more, in a second?" I grin. I haven't felt this free since the last time I escaped a Mog prison, and this time I'm going to try and double the Mog casualties. Since little Johnny boy held me back last time.

"Sadly, I don't think it will be your definition of fun," she sighs.

I feint to my left throwing a fake punch, hoping she'd dodged it and leap to the right where I'd deliver my final blow into that delicate jaw, watching it shatter into thousands irreparable fragments.

Except that doesn't go to plan. She slithers to the right with raised eyebrows and almost fighting a smile against my dismay. Damn, I didn't expect her to be that quick, her thighs are too slender to have real power like sprinters do.

"Are you insulting my legs?" she inquires. And I'm 100% sure like previous times that I didn't say it aloud, and I remember the last words she said the preceding time we met; "But that doesn't mean I didn't hear anything."

She looks at me expectantly and alarm bells shrill. They've realised the cameras have been damaged, and they may have potentially two people down. I have to act quickly or I'll be stuck here, and I'll never find the others before I die. And the dream of Lorien will just be a distant memory. I refuse to play her little mind games.

This time I don't bother faking anything, just a full on tackle. I step backwards, and put all in my power into this one jump. Before my hands can reach her dainty throat I'm pinned to the floor with pain flaming through my veins, and Sandor all bloody and me killing him as if he were a pig at a slaughter house and thoughts of Maddy screaming for help, screaming my name for help, torture my mind.

I cry out loud. It's all too much.

I can't remember the last time I cried properly. Sandor explained to me that the heroes never cried, they knew life was tough but they just accepted it. Fate is a very difficult thing to change, going with the flow is natural. But if Sandor ever experienced this, he'd probably shut up about crying.

Abruptly, everything clears rapidly. My chest feels lighter and my mind seems clearer than glass, and I feel strangely empty, all my emotions have seemed to go for a walk in a park or something. And it feels so damn good to feel nothing.

I steadily get to my feet, fighting the overwhelming to sink back to me knees and throw up as my stomach churns violently. Whatever that just was, I want to prove a point, I am infinitely stronger than my past and I will not let it destroy me. The future is full of hope even if everything before that was clouded with despair.

I observe her and she returns a wild-eyed gaze, her face is pale and if I knew any better I'd say she's frightened. But I didn't do anything terrifying, I just experienced something terrifying.

The alarm bells alleviate as a group of Mogs parade in with Mog cannons each one aimed at me. There's probably more than twenty, and I couldn't even delude myself that I could beat them especially not at this state.

She clears her throat, two coughs, "As much as I appreciate all of you finally turning up, I've got everything under control, not as if you've been paying much attention," her eyes narrow at Ivan, "Can someone remove that big oaf before his blood stains the new cell."

Each of the Mogs looked to one another. They seemed in the typical Mog like build unlike the girl and Ivan – no pupils and eyes a hideous black, and circles which make them look as if they've spent all night watching episodes of Batman (Sandor's done that enough), along with a skin that looks as if they've spent all night in the fight. And the clear resemblance of a shark.

They look at each other slightly confused on what's going on, but a second look at her face was all they need. They sneer at me before I leave; the Loric kid has been reduced to nothing by a little girl the same age as him.

One by one the file out, five of them carrying the great weight which is Ivan until her and I are alone. And there's an uncomfortable silence, until I break it.

"You're a monster."

She tries to smirk triumphantly but it turns into a sad smile as she says, "I know."

I have no time for sad smiles or any sympathy especially when I need to know stuff, "What did you even do? How many damn Mogs can do that?"

She looks at me solemnly, hesitates for a moment and replies, "No Mogs can do that." She stiffens, "Due to your unexpected tantrum, what is planned is most likely ruined. I thank you for your respectful and obliging behaviour."

She turns on her heel and saunters out of the room, the secret door shutting as I stare after her, wondering why I asked the questions and then trying to make out her reply. And I'm completely lost and confused.

I stagger towards my head, tiredness finally taking its toll. My eyelids droop and my brain starts to turn to mush and I roll to my side forgetting today's events, and everything before that. Wishing that I was just a normal teenager.

Screw Lorien.