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Here is chapter two, and it is considerably longer than the last. Please enjoy

2 years later

Nine POV

They took her while we were sleeping, and she let them. There was no sign of a struggle - it's not like Six to do that. But two years later, I have no idea what's not like Six anymore. Two years to the day, what a joke. We can't do anything but wonder around moping. I shouldn't have let her take watch by herself. I should have known. I don't know.

We got a scar a few weeks after she left. It wasn't her. The meeting with Five was a trap, and it cost us her life. But John made a plan, forget Five and release Six. It's taken us two years to get it together. We have one shot.

Six POV

I've lost track of time in my home with the rats. Six months, maybe more? It's hard to count the days when there is no sunlight. They used to move me to a different cell each day. A different cell and a different torture. That stopped a long time ago. They gave up on me, and I don't know whether to be proud or disappointed. Why am I alive? I don't know the answer to that, either. Bait?

Setrakus Ra could have slaughtered us all that time. He settled for me. I'm starting to believe that even though he has this whole evil-leader thing going on, he is a dramatic at hear. I mean, who else goes to such an extent to kill a bunch of kids? He didn't take my necklace. I'm not dead yet.

They tried to get information out of me - before I was dumped here, that is. Burn my skin with acid, project images in to my brain, no escape, no escape. They would punish me, but not so much as to leave any lasting marks on my skin. There are other ways to make someone comply. Not all scars are physical. I remember lying on the floor, wishing that they would just kill me. Mercy.

Please.

The Mogs are waiting for the others to come and get me, but that isn't going to happen. Coming back here is suicide - we just barely escaped last time. They've probably given up on me, I can't blame them. For all they know I could be dead. Wait, no, they would have gotten a scar.

I was 'blessed' with a scar a little time after my arrival at the Mog base, who died? I hope...
No. I don't care. Nothing I can do anymore.

The Mogadorian guard comes in to check on me, and he pushes a small bowl of water under the gap in the door. I lunge for it and gulp it down until the bowl is bone dry. How long has it been since I last had water? My throat still burns. I can't speak. I can't breathe.

Despite being a prisoner, I still train, alone. Every day I work on my strength and fitness. I play the game that I learnt from my cepan, Katarina, involving me visualising a battle in my mind, aiming to defeat myself. Maybe one day I can fight again for real. Or not.

This normally continues until the Mog guard brings food - a meagre amount of bread on a steel plate. Tonight is different. Instead of food the steel door swings open and I am ushered out by a pair of Mogodorian guards in battle gear. new holding cell? The base shudders, I can hear loud sounds in the distance. Ritual animal slaughter?

The Mogs move with new determination, ushering me forward with thinly veiled urgency. Their guns are rough against my back. They won't shoot me. We pass over a narrow bridge and I see an opportunity. I activate my invisibility legacy and swiftly kick them both over the edge, taking a moment to watch them as they fall far, far away. I refocus, no rest for the wicked.

I have a small pocket of time to act before I get figured out, so I sprint the rest of the bridge, and try to navigate my way to the exit. The underground base is a beehive, and I've never been allowed the chance to fully figure it out. Let's just hope the queen is still sleeping. Running, running. A Mog warrior appears around the corner and I snap his neck, relieving him of his stun gun. I can't scream for help, I lost my voice a few days ago screaming for help. And nobody ever comes. I know that my weekly escape attempts are futile, there's nobody here but me and a bunch of glorified lizards.

Blood surges through my calves as I increase my speed, two Mogs spring from a doorway. Stun, move on. I barrel through a heavy set of green doors and find myself in a study or office. Lungs screaming for air, I set down my stunner and pause to scan the tables for any items of use; a map, GPS, asthma puffer?

No asthma puffer, much to my disappointment. Instead, I find myself looking at a picture of a girl around my age, mousy brain hair and small grey eyes. I skim the information next to the photo and learn that this was Five. So she did die. Killed by the Mogadorians in the very same place we were supposed to meet her. Her death is probably indirectly my fault. Damn. Five looks so peaceful, as if sleeping with her eyes open. She's not. I know that this photo was taken after her death.

There is nothing of use but files I don't have time to read. I grab a few papers and stuff them down my shirt. After running out the back doors, I search for an exit. More explosions can be heard in the distance and the floor trembles as I search for an escape route. I round a corner and run in to a small group of Mogs. I reach for my stunner, then realise that I left it in the room with Five's files.

The old fashioned way, then? I try to fight them off, kicking and punching with reckless abandon. I hear a gun load and see blood on my leg. The familiar tingle starts to flow throughout my body, numbing it. I have to get out of here quickly or I won't be able to get out at all.

Quickly pushing past the rest of the Mogadorians, I turn corner after corner until I almost slam in to a ladder. Reaching for the rungs I hastily climb, creating large cuts on my hands and feet from the sharp metal. I am almost at the top and can see the hatch and light and light, when I am snatched up by someone. No. The numbness is reaching my head and I can barely make out a face before losing consciousness.

Nine.

Thanks for reading! Please don't forget to review 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊

Also, you may have noticed, but I have gone back and edited this story. What do you think? Better? Worse?