As soon as the elevator thumped down, it slammed into him—

Pearl and her brother. Are they okay?

As he was urged down the hallway, he tried to look into the cell windows, dreading what he might find, but he wasn't able to see anything clearly. The guards were too insistent he keep walking.

The guards discarded him back in his room and shut the door. It was silent and still, musty and stale. He checked under the cot, but the twins weren't there.

He tested the door; it was locked.

He paced for a while, hating how small his world had shrunk to. He hated the gray walls, the blankness… and he couldn't help but miss the hints of nature Above. Where there were also points of interest to focus on. And people to talk to.

But he couldn't exactly long to go back to Elena's room…. Just for freedom. He'd had a small taste of it, and now this room seemed smaller than ever.

It could be worse, he told himself.

He lay back on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. His skin tingling from the swift shift of environment.

What Elena had done to him in the sauna still lingered at the edge of his consciousness. He didn't want to look at it directly.

But he had to respond to it.

Freezing wasn't an option.

How could he stop doing it when that was how he'd responded automatically the last two times he'd been assaulted?

It was because of what Zar had done to him in the Gold Room. He'd been bound then. And the second time—that had frozen him even though he was unbound. That threw all kinds of uncomfortable questions into his mind. Why didn't he resist? When he had the physical strength to resist? Did it mean that he wanted it at some level? Or that he was that weak?

Someone who couldn't fight. Even when someone else was violating him, touching him in ways he only wanted his wife to touch him…. He had betrayed her by not fighting them off the instant they even looked at him with lust in their eyes. A real man would have fought them….

So did he even deserve to fight? Perhaps they'd already molded him into a slave. If he was turned into a slave this easily…. Perhaps that was what he was, in essence.

On another level… he knew these things weren't true. He wasn't a slave just because they'd… traumatized him. He already had PTSD to deal with, and they were constantly threatening him with more violence, then bringing this new element to it. It was tangled up with an intense shame that he wasn't sure how to deal with.

But I have to face it in order to get past it.

How can I do that?

I know now it can't just be by sheer force of will…. Because I don't want it and could never want it.

I have to get intel from her. And not let her go past a certain point…. Without getting shocked too badly. She will probably limit the shocks because she doesn't want me damaged…. But she might punish me in other ways…. I'll have to tread a thin line.

Ultimately, I have to be in control… even if she thinks she's controlling me…. Not become a slave in any way. I have to be at optimum all the time… not get caught off guard… even if horrible things are happening….

I probably can't do that all the time. But I have to as much as possible. So I have a fighting chance.

And never give up.

Never give in to their image of me.

Be an agent. Practice, like before. Keep my reflexes sharp. Keep my mind sharp. Strategize. Adapt. Perhaps ration the food they give me… keep up my strength.

Recall my missions. Recall things I've memorized. Read if I get the chance.

Those things will help… but will they be enough.

How can I practice fighting off… something like that?

Maybe imagining it is the best I can do, because I'm not manufacturing a situation like that in reality.

Still, he didn't feel up to practicing it yet. Despite his weariness, he made himself get up and work out, then practice fighting an imaginary opponent.

After that, he recalled elements of missions that could be relevant and went over and over them in his mind, so the parts that could be useful would be familiar, right at his fingertips if he needed them.

It was only after he let himself rest that the thought came to him—he had gotten away from Zar and Elena eventually.

He had that strength. He just had to access it.

His deepest source of strength…

He'd have to remember to rely on that, too.

When he woke up, his door was open and there were subtle sounds outside. He sat on his cot, listening for approaching footsteps or signs of distress.

Slowly, he stood, muscles aching. The cot wasn't the most comfortable in the world, and the couch upstairs hadn't been either… he'd also worked out more than he had in a while, on less food than he'd had in a long time.

He stepped out of the cell; in the central room, about fifteen people were milling around, more than he'd seen there before.

To his alarm, he didn't see Pearl or Danny. Or Sasha. He headed into the Mush Room. Quinn was there, sitting on a bench, reading. The light from the hole in the ceiling hinted a cloudy late afternoon.

Quinn didn't look up as he approached. Jason didn't want to bother him, so he sat down on the bench beside him and soaked in the atmosphere—the semblance of privacy without guards hovering along the edges.

But the urgency of not knowing got the better of him. He turned toward Quinn. "Have you seen Pearl or Danny?"

"I think they're in their cells."

"Sasha?"

"Her too."

"Are they okay?"

A pained look crossed his face. "None of us are okay."

"But—"

"I didn't see that they did anything else to them. That doesn't mean they didn't." He turned back to his book.

Anger shot through him. "Don't you care what happens to them?"

Quinn looked at him sharply. "There's no point in caring! They're going to do what they want to us anyway. I have this—" He lifted his book—"refuge. I'm going to immerse in it as long as I can. That's all I have left."

"Maybe… there's another way," Jason said carefully.

Quinn went back to his book.

"What are you reading?"

He lifted the book, showing the title "Inferno".

"That's—"

"I know. Better than the one we're in."

"Where did you get it?"

"A reward for… cooperating." Hints of deep guilt crossed his face, and he huddled down, taking refuge in its pages.

After a few moments, Jason headed back out toward the intake cells. Two guards barred the entrance.

"What did you do to them?" Jason asked.

"Who?" said the taller guard.

"Danny and Pearl."

"I don't know who that is."

"The twins," said the other guard.

The first guard grinned. "Oh. They're beautiful."

Jason felt like grabbing him and shaking him, but he held himself back at the last moment. "Did you hurt them."

"We found them in your cell. That wasn't authorized. We had to take them back. We thought you'd need to be punished, but Elena ordered us not to." He shrugged.

"Maybe that means I can have them."

The guards exchanged glances. "We didn't ask that. Besides, if she didn't tell us explicitly, it's probably not something she wants."

"Can you ask?"

"There's no reason to," said the other guard.

"Can I at least see how they're doing?"

"Get back—find something else to do."

"I need to see them." He stepped toward the entrance.

The guards whipped out their shockrods, the ends snapping with electricity.

Jason stepped back.

In the central room, he found the young woman he'd tried to protect during intake. There were new bruises on her arms. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She looked at him, her dark eyes filled with anguish.

"Can I help you?" He wasn't sure what he could do. But he had to try to help in some way.

She looked at him in confusion.

He tried a few other languages. When he introduced himself in Italian, her eyes lit up.

"Si! Si!" she said. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Can you help me?"

"I want to help," he replied in Italian. "I'm a slave too. But… I do know about this place…"

She introduced herself as Lucia. He sat with her and told her what he knew. He didn't want to say anything to hurt her, but she pressed him to tell whatever he could. There were some things he couldn't speak openly about, but he hinted there could be a way out. He had to give her some kind of hope.

"There are people looking for us," he said.

"Really?"

"I… am sort of an important person in this country." That wasn't really exaggerating.

"What country is this?"

"Muldavia." He hated to taint it by associating it with this place, but it was true that it entangled the country in its darkness. It needed to be uprooted completely for Muldavia to be able to move forward and escape its shadows.

"That's such a small country! I would never have guessed…."

"That's why it's been able to develop unnoticed…."

She asked where he was from. She was intrigued to learn he was a former agent. Then he asked about her. She came from a small town on the outskirts of Rome. She was a single mother with three kids. She ran out of money and got in debt; some people came to collect—and they took her. She hoped desperately they hadn't taken her children too; she hadn't seen them since.

"That sounds like what happened to my nephew," said Jason.

"Your nephew was captured too?"

"His daughter."

"It could be the same…organization?"

He nodded. "That's another reason I have to get out. I need to look for her."

The guards tapped their rods on the wall and called everyone back to their cells. Lucia shot up with alarm and joined the stream of people heading back toward the intake hall.

He wandered around the room, feeling desolate, and ended up in the Mush Room, wishing he had a book to distract his thoughts.

An idea hit him. If the mushrooms were dangerous… he could use them on Elena. Or the guards.

He could test them on himself… just a little….

He sauntered along the wall then snapped one off. Out of the shadows, its glow dimmed. He held it in his palm, the soft almost weightless thing glimmering faintly. He spun it in his fingers then licked the cap.

It had a dull, vaguely pleasant taste. Like a mixture of dust and delicate grape wine.

He licked it again for good measure then warning alarms went off in his mind.

He wondered if any of the others had tried the mushrooms…. Maybe he should have asked first…

A warning tingle flicked over his tongue. But then the feeling faded and he wondered if he'd imagined it.

He went back to his room, not wanting to collapse where the guards could see him. Inside the cell, he left the door open a crack in case it would lock automatically.

He lay on the bed, determining to mentally record any sensations.

At first, nothing. Then his heart tripped into an irregular beat. Something light flickered at the edge of his vision….

Then it faded.

He waited for a while, but the feeling didn't come back.

So it's not that potent… this amount is too faint to determine what it does….

He considered the mushroom again, then took a small bite.

This time, his heart jumped into an irregular rhythm that sent beads of sweat onto his skin. Then a violent flicker at the edge of his vision…. It swirled into a vague kaleidoscope of swelling and retreating shapes, pulsing with vibrant colors… the blank gray walls bulged slightly, flickering with little pinwheels.

He laughed.

So that's what these are.

His stomach felt a little queasy; he focused on lying as still as possible and letting the sensations wash over him. It's not going to kill me… probably…

The shapes veered toward a strange and interesting world…. He grasped for it, longing for some kind of grand distraction—

But just as he was about to make it there, it rolled back, the vibrant edges dulling. Sinking back down into his heart, embedding there with a wild longing for more.

He felt drained and desolate and mildly sick. He flipped onto his stomach, his arm hanging off of the cot in the cold to bring down his body temperature.

To his relief, gradually he slipped into dreams.

He awoke to raging thirst. The door was locked. He barreled around the room, just avoiding the furniture he knew was there in the dark.

They won't let me die of thirst, he told himself, though that was barely a comfort.

And the opening door only bathed him in more dread…

Thankfully it was just automatic, no guards waited for him. Still, he longed for water…. For food….

What day is it? He peeked out; sure enough, morning light shed through the ceiling.

If it's the next day… it's September 23rd. Thursday.

Knowing was such a relief. They'd tried to take away his sense of time…and failed.

I've got to keep track though.

He scoured his room for anything resembling a writing tool, checked the drawers for the hundredth time…. nothing. Nothing sharp, either.

He headed out, longing to find out how Pearl was doing.

To his relief, Pearl and her brother were in the central room. Sasha was with them. They were huddled up by the mushrooms; Sasha had a mushroom in her hand.

Now that I know what these do… I don't want them to overdose…

He rushed over to them in case they were going to eat them.

Pearl pressed down, huddling against her brother.

Jason knelt on the cement floor. "I'm sorry. I won't hurt you."

"I know," said Danny in a small voice.

"How is she?"

"She…can walk now."

"Did they… hurt her any more?"

He shook his head.

"What about you?"

He shook his head again.

Jason took a deep breath of relief and sat next to the wall beside Sasha. "What are you doing with that?"

"Don't worry," said Sasha. "I'm not eating it. I found out something you can do with these!"

"Really?"

"Look!" She slid the top of the mushroom along the wall. Some of it slimed off and created a squiggle of faint glow.

"Cool!"

"It works better in the dark." She whispered. "I took it to my room and I could see at night!"

"That… is a good use."

"Good for secret agents."

He nodded.

"I could show you if there was a dark room…."

"My room's still dark. I think."

"Let's go!"

"Maybe… you could stay there again," he said, looking at Danny and Pearl. "They didn't punish me for last time, so maybe… they wouldn't mind. They didn't punish you for it, did they?"

"No," said Danny. "They just—grabbed us and took us back."

"Would you like to stay with me?"

Danny nodded. So did Pearl, looking at him with large, wounded blue eyes.

Slowly, they made their way back to his room.

But the door was locked.

He could hear a grinding sound inside and men talking.

Maybe they're taking my room away….

It wasn't exactly home, but what if they brought him somewhere worse?

Perhaps he'd stay with the others…. He could be closer to them, comfort them… but he didn't know how he'd deal with being close to so much abuse while being cut off from protecting them.

"Maybe one of these other rooms?" said Sasha.

Jason had barely paid attention to the other cells since they'd seemed empty, but a few of the doors were open.

The next cell down was smaller than his, just a bunk and a table attached to the wall. In the dim room, Sasha wrote on the walls and beautiful glowing pictures emerged. She gave a few mushrooms from her pockets to Danny and Pearl. Danny wrote with his right away. Pearl held hers in her palms, staring at them.

Jason sat down a few feet from her. "What would you like to draw?"

She looked at him, her face etched with suffering.

"Do you have a favorite animal?"

She nodded.

"Maybe you could draw it."

She stood there for a moment then sat on the floor. Carefully, she drew curving lines on the cement floor, almost lovingly tracing an elegant neck, ears, and delicate face. Finally she scribbled mane and forelock.

"That's amazing."

A small smile spread across Pearl's face.

Sasha and Danny giggled as they drew all across the wall. A lot of scribbles and geometric shapes, some funny stick figures. Then they came to admire Pearl's work.

"Pearl has always been a good artist," said Danny proudly.

"I bet she'll grow up to be a great artist," said Jason. He wouldn't doubt it.

"That looks like a real glowing horse," said Sasha. She knelt beside Pearl. "Maybe we could all stay in here," she whispered. "Maybe they'll forget about this room."

"The longer we can avoid the guards, the better," said Jason. "Do they give you any food?"

"They gave us some supper. We don't get breakfast. Just brunch."

"Hm…."

"Do they give you any food?"

"Sometimes. I didn't eat since breakfast yesterday."

She studied the mushroom stems in her hands. "Too bad these aren't edible…."

"I might eat one if I was desperate. I don't think they're poison, but you can probably overdose…."

Sasha crossed her arms. "I wish I had some food to give you."

"I'll be okay. Thanks for this, by the way. It's…good for Pearl to have something else to focus on."

"I'll try to find some more things we can use."

Pearl crawled into the cot beside her brother and Jason whispered a story to them. Soon they were asleep. Sasha stayed awake and Jason told her one of his tamer spy adventures. Her eyes sparkled with wonder.

She's a future secret agent if there ever was one.

Eventually the guards found them and brought the kids out to brunch. But they took Jason back to his room.

To his surprise, there was a sink installed on the other side of the divider.

"What's this?" said Jason.

"What does it look like?" said the guard.

"It's a reward," said the other guard, who happened to be Gleb.

"For what?"

Gleb smiled. "For pleasing Elena." He stepped closer. "She was very happy with how accommodating you were in the sauna."

An unpleasant thrill skidded over Jason's skin.

The guards left, laughing together, and shut the door.

He stepped over to the cot and sank down, leaning his head in his hands. He fought queasiness, his heart pounding hard.

I need to be able to drink. I'll be no use if I don't….

But he couldn't fight the horror that Elena had rewarded him for… freezing under her touch.

He got up and headed over to the sink.

Rather than drinking, he felt like tearing the sink from the wall, shattering it on the floor.

But he quashed those unproductive impulses and turned it on, then cupped his hands under the cold stream.

The water tasted very iron-y, but he gulped many handfuls of it before he realized too much at once wasn't the best idea.

He lay down on his cot, reveling in the fact at least he had something in his stomach. The liquid nourishing his body, tingling along his veins.

The fact that it was a reward faded almost to insignificance.

Later, after the door swung open again, he headed out to the central room. He found Sasha, Pearl, and Danny in the Mush Room. They were kicking mushrooms along the floor in a little game they'd made up. Pearl wasn't as pale and wan as before.

"Hi!" said Sasha. "Do you want to play?"

"What are the rules?"

The rules seemed rather random, but he tried to keep up. Mostly it was kicking the mushrooms across small indentations in the floor and avoiding others. The game eventually devolved into laughing and they ended up on the bench, Sasha in a giggling fit.

Sasha stopped short. "Oh! I forgot." She dug in her pocket. "I have something for you." She picked out a semi-squished bun from her pocket. "I saved this from brunch."

"Sasha—that's yours."

"I had something else. Did they give you anything?"

He shook his head. She handed him the bun.

He took it gratefully and nibbled it, not wanting to rush through such a gift.

It was the most wonderful piece of bread he'd ever eaten.

"Thank you, Sasha," he said softly.

"You're my friend. I'm not gonna let you starve."

They played more mushball, as Sasha called it, and in the end they stomped on the mushrooms, crushing them. Jason joined in—it was remarkably cathartic to smash them, the soft fruiting bodies breaking beneath his shoes, the foam-like crumbs smearing into the cement.

"Hm," said Sasha. "We better get out of here. They're not gonna like this."

They hurried out of the room, Jason's soul lighter than it had been in a while.

While the kids headed off to play with a few others, Jason went to talk to Lucia along the wall. She was happy to speak in her language; apparently no one else here spoke Italian. She asked him to teach him some English so she could get around better, and he told her he'd teach her as much as she wanted.

After about an hour, the guards urged everyone back to their cells; Jason stayed out and watched the light fade, sitting on the cinderblock until the sky scorched a dark coal-black.

One brilliant star glittered like a spark in the night sky.

The next morning, he hardly remembered how he'd gotten into bed. He must've dragged himself back to the cell at some point… his joints were sore, his muscles stiff. He headed over to the sink and dashed cold water on his face then drank deeply. He was immeasurably grateful, even though shame sliced into him when he thought of what it had cost him.

At least he didn't really need anything else except food. And he wasn't going to give in anymore, so he probably wouldn't get any more perks. He knew they'd make sure he didn't starve, so he didn't have to worry about that…. He just didn't want to be too weakened to fight.

Gleb and Kent came in not long after. They mock-cordially escorted him to the interrogation room.

Daric met him there, smiling in what seemed like a warm greeting.

Jason was already tired of this good cop act. He almost wished he'd get on with it… but this was a sideshow compared to what he was determined to do.

So, the less injured he stayed, the better.

Not that I ever want to be injured…

Another man lurked in the shadows, just beyond the dangling chains.

"Oh, Jason—this is Raul. He's our newest guard."

Raul stepped forward, light hitting his rugged face, hard gray eyes, and cruel mouth. He towered over Daric, who was probably six-five. And he was packed with muscle. Not quite as large as Brack. But his limbs hinted an agility most large men didn't have, and his eyes had a certain unsettling glint to them.

"Hello, Jason," said Raul. "I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Jason gave him a barely-nod. He wasn't interested in getting to know his future torturer. "So… what's on the menu today."

"I'm glad you asked," said Daric. He grabbed a brown paper bag from the table and handed it to Jason.

The tantalizing smell of fast food wafted up from it.

He considered refusing… but at this point, he was almost too hungry to think straight. Cautiously he headed over to the table and sat down.

Out of the bag, he drew a soft baking powder biscuit, mashed potatoes, gravy, and several pieces of fried chicken. "Is this—"

"The closest we can get," said Daric, looking pleased with himself.

Jason tuned him out and devoured the food, savoring the glorious tastes. He ate the skin, he didn't care. The more fat I can get the better…. It was crisp and juicy. Dripping with spice-laden grease.

Daric handed him a napkin out of nowhere and Jason wiped his chin. It startled him a little to not touch his beard there; he'd forgotten he was cleanshaven.

"Gluttonous little thing, isn't he," rumbled Raul, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Well, he hasn't had anything to eat for a while," said Daric.

"No self-control like that—he'll crack within a week."

"He's got steel in him."

"If you say so." Raul smirked.

Daric looked at Jason. "He's a maverick. Doesn't follow rigid standards… those are the people that don't break easily."

"As long as there's some sense of discipline. Some sort of strength there. I don't see much evidence…"

Daric chuckled. "You haven't seen much of him."

"I'm good at sizing people up."

"I know. But there are exceptions. Besides… your intuition isn't infallible. You're going to have to unlearn some things here. Any permanent employee will be exceptional—and that fits Jason. Elena knows what she's doing. You still have that to learn as well." Daric sent Raul a sharp glance.

Raul shrugged, looked dubious.

"All right," said Daric, tapping his pencil on the yellow pad of paper. There was no sign of his reading glasses. "We do need to know some things. It's a little more urgent than I let on last time."

"Why?"

"We need to know about your companions. What exactly their roles were."

Jason sat back, sliding the paper bag away from him. "I'm not betraying them."

"Your escape failed. It won't cost you anything to tell about it."

"Then why do you want to know? There's no point in finding out about something that happened already. You seem to know about everything anyway."

"It's true, we know a lot. But not everything. Perhaps they could cobble together another escape attempt."

"If we can't do anything against you, why do you need to know?"

Daric sighed. "Because we like to be thorough. This is what Elena demands. And I have to admit, I don't like loose ends."

"You're just going to have to accept there are loose ends."

"We'll find out eventually. But I'd like it if you'd cooperate."

"If you know me, you know I'm not going to do that."

Daric smiled. "I knew it wouldn't be that easy. Worth a try."

"So… now you use the bad cop." He glanced at Raul. Something about the man was extremely unsettling. He would have been good looking if not for his misshapen nose—he was a fighter of some sort, Jason assumed, and his nose must have been broken multiple times. A few other hints of violence in his face…. But that wasn't it. There was a hunger in his features… a twistedness less like that of a predator than a monster that could never be satiated… It was unpleasant just to be in the same room with him. His proximity loomed over him like a restless shadow.

"Raul is just here for observation today," said Daric. He swept back his red hair; instead of smoothing it, one strand stuck up. "We actually don't care that much about what your friends could be planning; I just thought I'd get the easy things out of the way first. The more insidious loose end is your code. It's frustrating we haven't been able to crack it. We've got people working on it but… so far, we only have a partial code. We'll probably break it eventually, but… we don't like the fact your cell is able to communicate without our knowing. That's a major breach of rules."

"I'm not betraying them." He wondered if they were still using the code. If Yavesh broke the code and were able to discern the Escape Committee's communications, it could reveal compromising secrets…. Such as Kara and Karim's marriage, for example.

No matter what they do to me… I can't give it to them.

Daric leaned forward, arm on the table, his eyes earnest. "You know we can't just leave it like that. If you'd cooperate, we'd give you something else you want."

"Like what?"

"Regular meals, for example. We've seen the way you've bonded with those kids. Perhaps we could allow an arrangement where they stayed in your room. And we wouldn't bother them."

"You shouldn't go near them anyway."

"If you continue to resist…. Which is, after all, what we expect… we'll have to escalate."

"There it is."

"I'll give you another chance. Let you think about it." Daric sat back. "In the meantime, we've got to run out the clock. Why don't we talk about something else? Whatever you want."

Jason glanced at Raul again. Even if he wanted to talk to Daric, which he didn't, it would be hard to have a normal conversation with Raul looming over him, a secretive smile on his face.

"Don't mind him," said Daric.

"Why's he here? I mean really."

"He needs to learn the ropes. And yes… he needs to learn about you, since you're a challenging subject. One we're focusing on."

"So eventually he'll…use his skills on me."

"Perhaps. I don't want that. He's here to remind you what might happen… because eventually… Elena will get impatient."

"I thought torture didn't work."

"Some forms do. It's gotta be used in tandem with other methods."

"None of this is making me want to work with you. Elena isn't exactly winning me over… I'm never coming around to believe your methods are good in any way. Or your goals. You will have to break me."

"That's the plan. Raul's a Breaker in training."

"Why doesn't that surprise me."

Raul chuckled, a rumbling sound that seemed to come from somewhere beyond him.

"Breaking is different than shattering, of course. Breaking means that—the essence of you will remain intact, while you come to see things from our perspective. If you want to avoid becoming one of us… you'll have to hope we shatter you. And I don't think you really want that."

"You forget there's a third option."

Daric smiled indulgently. "Not here there isn't. Oh, you may delude yourself there is. Even now—you're overconfident." He spread out his arm, indicating Jason, while looking at Raul. "Isn't that magnificent?"

"I'll hold out on my opinion," said Raul, "until I see him squirming beneath my knife."

"We haven't shown you his video records. We've got to give you his file. How he holds out—even with how much pain he's in—it's marvelous."

Raul stepped forward. "I'd like to see that." He looked down at Jason and licked his lips. "Maybe we should do a little…demonstration now?"

"No, I told you, this is just an observation period."

"Hands-on is a better teacher. Besides, I'm ready to get my hands dirty."

"We've got some other rewards for you later. We've got to treat this man carefully."

"If he's got steel in him, he'll be harder to break. So we should be harder on him, not easier."

"We don't want to shatter his psyche. Such men are both strong—and sensitive. You don't brutalize a delicate instrument, do you? You on the other hand… you're mainly there for smashing things. We could break you without worrying we'd damage your soul." Daric smirked up at him, suddenly seeming taller and more formidable than before.

Raul narrowed his eyes. Then he laughed. "You'll need a lot more than that to wound me. I know my worth."

Daric chuckled. "Case in point. Raul was an MMA underground champion before he moved up in the world."

"I guessed something like that," said Jason.

"He's got a lot of uncredited wins, too…. Out of the ring. He was quite impressive. Why we brought him in. He does know better—we only use the best here. Guards, of course, only need to be discreet and slightly above average… no moral code… respond to our generous perks. And know that if they ever betray us, they'll face a messy death." Daric said this so casually that, if Jason had been fooled by Daric's humanity before, he could never mistake his amiability for decency again.

"We could test him in another way," said Raul. "I'd like to see his fighting skills. No match for me, but…"

"He's got to get up his strength first… to truly test his skills, it's got to be a fair fight."

Gleb and Kent meandered back to the table from the edges of the room. Jason felt crowded in by enemies.

"Did someone say fight?" said Kent.

"Yeah, want to try your hand at fighting Rampage?"

"Who's that?"

"It's my stage name," said Raul, grinning, most of his teeth gleamingly white, one canine chipped, the other gold.

Kent looked taken aback.

Raul laughed heartily. "I think I could break you like a twig." He mimicked the motion, the biceps beneath his short sleeves bulging.

Gleb stepped forward. "I might give it a go." He sized up Raul, not looking especially intimidated.

"I'd tie you into a pretty little bow!" Raul roared with amusement.

Gleb looked more affronted than anything.

"I wouldn't advise it," said Daric. "He'd probably follow through and I'd be short two guards. No—we've got to get someone in your weight class. Brack, for instance."

Raul shrugged. "He's insubstantial. Just a guard, nothing special… I doubt he'd go to any special lengths, even if he could outmaneuver me." Raul flexed his arm. "I guess I just am the best."

Daric stood. Despite the fact he was about one hundred pounds less, he didn't look intimidated by Raul in the least. "Since this has devolved into a Rampage fan club… perhaps we should cut it short for today. Perhaps you could… try your hand and escort Jason out."

"So I am a glorified guard."

"You're a guard in training until you can prove yourself. One way you can do that is… practice restraint and show you know how not to break things."

Raul looked impatient at this, but then he nodded. "Yes, boss." He saluted irreverently.

Then he grabbed Jason's arm, practically lifting him off the ground. He shoved him forward, his grip bruisingly tight.

As he escorted Jason out of the room, Gleb and Kent looked on indignantly, as if upset he'd taken their job.

Thankfully Jason's cell was just down the hall. Raul let go of Jason's arm then mock-saluted. "I'll be seeing you." He flashed a grin and disappeared.

Jason shut the door, not wanting anyone to see inside. Though they were probably watching his every move… he'd have to keep that in mind.

He did some pushups, his shoulder violently protesting. He only stopped when he felt going further might do more harm than good. Then he did sit-ups, then fought with an imaginary Raul. Keeping the most formidable opponent in mind might help get him to optimum.

Exhausted, he lay back on his cot and let his mind drift. This time, he was back in Odyssey and his father was there with him and Connie. They were having ice cream in Whit's End. It was so real it felt like he could taste the raspberry ripple. But it was so far from his reality now it felt strange and dreamlike… perhaps he'd eventually fade out of reality altogether… He'd welcome that, except it'd mean he'd abandon what he longed to get back to…

In the afternoon, he went out into the central room. Rain was drizzling through the gap for the first time since he'd been here. It seemed to seep down through the top of the coffin, and he felt a ghost of panic, wondering if the water would fill it, gradually drowning anyone inside…

Only a few people were out—Lucia, Quinn, Danny and Pearl, and a couple other kids. Voices came from the Mush Room; several teenagers huddled together, away from the rain.

Danny and Pearl were near the center, playing in the steady stream of water. Jason worried they might catch a cold, but he didn't have the heart to tell them to stop. Besides… in the dampness… we all might catch a cold anyway… it's a wonder they risk us like this.

Quinn was reading his book along the wall. Jason walked over to him, intending to just speak to him in passing. He wanted to maintain some kind of connection if he could. "How far are you?" Jason asked quietly.

"Almost done. Then I'm going to read it in Italian." He flipped to the other side of the book, which was the Italian version.

"You can read it?"

"I was learning when…"

"Lucia's Italian. Maybe she could help you."

Quinn looked up at him, eyes sparking, as if he hadn't considered that.

Jason went over to Lucia, who was looking longingly at the open tunnel. "You've…tried it before?"

She nodded. Pain on her face.

"I did too. It's how I got here."

She looked at him questioningly, and he told her about his 'escape', which he'd left out last time. Then he gave her another English lesson. She was a quick learner; she already knew several phrases well.

Several guards strode into the room, laughing and talking.

Jason's heart sank.

One of them was Raul.