"Get your hands off my brother!" Joe yelled, pushing him back. Frank allowed his heart to be relieved, if even for just a second, so that he could Frank was grateful for the temporary reprieve, but gasped again as another man tackled him and dragged him away. He gasped as he saw the knife come down and rolled out of the way just in time for him to see the other man lunge a knife at Joe.

"Joe, look out!" Frank yelled, before he was shoved back to the ground, and his head hit the ground with a thud.

This was why they were in partners, so they could pick us both off at once, Frank thought. Despite his what he was sure was a now broken arm he wasn't about to let the man hurt his brother. With a cry, he launched himself at the man, who howled back. Frank hadn't realized how close to another water pool they were and apparently, neither had the other man. Without a start, he rolled over into the pool. Frank couldn't make any move fast enough except to helplessly watch as the man fell.

….

And fell. And fell - and suddenly, he was nowhere to be seen. Frank frowned, he had blinked once, but he'd seen the water…. That couldn't be right.

"This doesn't make any sense," Frank whispered. Then it hit him, was one of the ways through to the surface in the water, and if so…

"Martin is dead. 21 remaining," the man said over the loudspeaker. Frank frowned, trying to remember; had someone died while he was sleeping?

Then he remembered - Joe! With that, he grabbed the man who was on top of his brother. The man howled and dropped his knife, and Joe kicked it out of the arena. Frank knew if he tossed the man in the water he'd toss him to his death - but could he do that? Could he justify killing to save save himself and his brother?

"I'll be back for my bag," the man responded before launching himself in the water. Frank guessed that he felt outnumbered and decided the water was a good way to escape. He grimaced; the man wouldn't be back for his bag.

Sure enough another announcement, "Martin's teammate is dead. Pools are nice boys, fancy taking a swim?" With that the announcement clipped off and the unwritten word twenty remaining echoed in Frank's head.

They had to get out of there.

"What the heck just happened?" Joe asked, wincing as he felt his face start bleeding. "Frank, your arm-"

"Your face," Frank retorted, sinking to the ground. "Joe, that pool isn't a pool. It's a trapdoor that opens up to… somewhere."

"So he controls all the pools or water or whatever…. well it makes sense… But then doesn't it get wet if he opens up the pool and torrents of water pull through?"

"If he's already killed two men for going in the pool I don't really think he gives a fuck about a wet carpet-"

"Well, serial killers care about weird things but first, let's patch up your arm-"

"Let's patch up your face," Frank said. "It's bleeding worse than my arm hurts."

"...Fine," Joe remarked. "What happened?"

"He was an idiot is what happened," Frank retorted, but he couldn't shake the image of the man swimming to his death. "Why did he think that would give him an advantage?"

"Felt like he couldn't take two at once, I guess," Joe said. He sat down and allowed Frank to bandage him up, knowing that was what his brother needed. "What can we make into a sling?"

"A sling will only slow me down," Frank pointed out.

"And it will give you long-term damage if you aren't in one to your arm." Joe cupped his brother's face and forced him to look at him. "We have to think long-term and think like we can survive this, Frank."

Frank grimaced, "...Alright," he said, knowing his brother was right. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Just in case something happens - I love you."

"I love you too, but nothing will happen."

"It had better not," Frank retorted.

"So…. do you think we're past curfew now?" Joe asked, to which Frank lightly gave him a mock slap on the head.

"Probably," Frank responded with a tired sigh. "I'm starving. Hey- let's grab their bags." He grimaced, "We may as well take them."

"Yeah," Joe said, also sighing as he looked through the bags. The boys split up the water purification tablets and each took their own backpack - since now they had more than enough. They split up the food that was in the backpack.

"We'll need the food today," Frank decided. "Then we've got to figure out the hunting."

"Yeah," Joe nodded, and sighed. "Frank, I hate this."

"Me, too. They may be murders but this game is just sick. Do you think that's what he's doing - forcing us in here to -"

"I don't know," Joe interrupted. "I feel sick."

Frank put his hand against his brother's face. "None of the deaths were our fault. We're still human, Joe - you can't blame yourself. You can't internalize all of this," he said.

Joe sighed, "I know. It's just the constant fight to stay alive… it's all so exhausting, you know?" he asked, frowning.

"That's what he wants, Joe. This isn't a competition against the others for us. This is a competition against him." Frank smiled, and whispered, "Which we will win."

"Frank," Joe said, turning to his brother, "If we win this that means everyone else will die."

"Not necessarily," Frank replied. "We have to outsmart him. We won't go down the pools, but somehow we'll figure it out. We'll make it out of here, I promise."

Joe mused over his brother's words, "Alright…"

"We have to have a strategy, if we want to win this thing," Frank remarked, "So what's our strategy?"

"I don't know," Joe said with a tired sigh. "I'm not feeling so good, Frank."

Frank placed his forehand on Joe's head again. "You're hot," he frowned.

"I know," Joe quipped.

"You should sleep," Frank said.

"But-"

"I'll keep watch," Frank promised. "We need to be strong to survive this."

Joe grimaced, "You're right."

"I think I've found something," Fenton said to Sam as the man came over. "Thanks for coming, Sam, I appreciate it."

"Anytime - I'm only sorry I couldn't get here sooner but even the fastest plane can only be so fast. It turns out we were right."

"About?"

"Six-teen convicts that they've put away for a length of time have escaped from prison, but this one is the most noticeable."

"Which one?"

"Jacobson Aliza. He was the one who was hunting people and using targets. He's quite wealthy, and would also have the resources to set up something like this."

"Wealthy? I didn't realize -"

"To the tune of $53 million," Sam said, setting down his papers.

"How did he hide that? Actually, why didn't he hire a better lawyer?"

"I think he wanted captured, honestly. We know that the boys were team ten. That'd be twenty people assuming each team has two apiece. Assuming he's set it up like the books he'd have a total of 24 people. I've started calling around and making pairs of people missing but nothing has come up."

"What if," Fenton frowned, "He focused on finding people who wouldn't come up?"

"I don't get it," Sam frowned back.

"What if - before he was focused on hunting murderers and such, right? What if he was focused on finding them and making them part of his games? What if he-"

"He grabbed people who were on the run so that way nobody would know it?"

"It'd fit his styl-" Fenton frowned. "He escaped prison right?"

"Yeah.;.."

"What if some escaped prison with him, and he had somehow gotten them to play, like - I don't know-"

"We need to call the prison he was last seen at and get some Intel. They may be able to give us some leads."

More wump in the next chapter. Hey, I can't have them too beaten up if I want them to survive this... right?

Challenge: Where did the "allies" go?