I walk down the steps, my footsteps clanging loudly against the metal. Tre taps my arm, "Over here," he says, nodding towards the space behind the weapons rack. I follow after him. Please don't lecture me. We head over to the space. "What?" I ask. He crosses his arms. "There's more you need to know about Caligula but I can't tell you that if you don't trust us," he says. I look at him. "I just met you. I'm not going to just throw my trust at you and let you break it a week later." I reply. Tre sighs. "We're fighting for our lives, you know that, right? Everyone's life is on the line," he exclaims. I can feel my heart racing. This is why I don't argue. I can never control my breathing. "I don't give a damn about everyone else's lives on the line," I say coldly. He stares at me. "You should! I know you lost the love of your life, but-" He stops and stares behind me. I turn around to see a girl with Kayden's eyes and complexion. She's wearing a tattered blue flannel shirt and baggy jeans with converse.
"Is there a bathroom in this dump?" she says, casually chewing gum. It takes everything in me not to glare. "This dump is my home, so watch it," I say. She smiles. "You must be Danielle," she says, pointing. Danielle. The name rips through me. She has so many of Kayden's mannerisms. The smile, the canines, everything. It's almost like she's a female version of him. Born to make me suffer in grief. Okay, that's harsh. It hurts. Seeing her hurts more than I let on. "You must be Vienna," I say. She nods. "Didn't know I was famous," she flips her hair playfully. I can feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Gianna walks over, Layla in hand. "Hey, Vienna." she says. Layla looks up at me. "Are you sad?" she asks. I laugh. It sounds more forced than I wanted it to. "No, I'm not sad," I crouch down and smile at her. Layla smiles. "Okay," she says. She looks up at Vienna. "You look like the boy in the picture on the table," she muses.
Vienna raises her eyebrows at me. "Somebody was really in love," she says. I roll my eyes. Tre nudges me. "I need to talk to you," he urges. I glance at his serious expression. "What?" I ask. He pulls me back over to the weapons rack. "I heard a rumor that Caligula can resurrect the dead. Something about using them for his army," he says. I stare at him blankly. "Okay? Your point?" I ask. He sighs. "Figure it out. But, the main point is, he's been feeding his army this drug, he calls it Psyche," he says. I nod slowly. "Goddess?" I ask. He nods. "Goddess of humanity and human suffering," he says, disgust written all over his face. I shiver a little bit. "That's not creepy at all," I say. He shrugs. "This man calls himself Caligula. What'd you expect?" he asks. I shrug. "Fair," I say. He glances over at Gianna talking with Vienna. "Follow me," he says. I grab my sword off of the rack, and follow quietly behind Tre up the stairs.
* * *
"Shh!" I whispered, my finger to my lips. Tre glanced around. I follow his gaze to the lights of the city. If it wasn't so burned, it'd be beautiful. Tre nods to a big tree. "It's dying. All the way over there," he points to a small neighborhood, "That's where I grew up," he says. I look at the basketball court. There's nothing left of it but a rim with no net and a broken backboard. "I grew up over there," I point to a small patch of ground. It used to have grass, trees and pools. Now it's just dirt and smoke. Tre looks at me. "You didn't strike me as one of the rich folk," he says. I snort. "We weren't rich. My mom was barely hanging on," I say. He raises his eyebrows. "Where I'm from, you're all a bunch of stuck-up, rich a**holes," he shrugs. I roll on my back and look at the stars through the smoke.
"Where I'm from, your neighborhood was pitied. We had these little soup kitchens, my mom worked in one," I say. Tre rolls on his back too. "We always thought you guys didn't care," he says. I snort, "Sometimes people do care. Just not enough to make a difference," I say. Tre turns his head and looks at me. "That's deep," he says. I turn on my side. "What's your favorite color?" I ask. He wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion. "What?" he asks. I sigh, "What's your favorite color?" I ask again. He shrugs. "Uh, black I guess," he says. I roll my eyes. "Basic," I mumble. He sits up and puts his hand over his heart in mock-offense. "I am not basic," he protests. I sit up and look at him. "Come on, dude. You just told me black is your favorite color," I reason. He laughs, "I'm just saying I like the color!" he laughs. I roll my eyes and push his shoulder. "Basic Tre," I say. He smiles.
For half a second life feels normal. At least- as normal as it can get on the verge of more destruction. Tre smiles. "Come on, I wanna show you the entrance to his base," he says. I get up and grab my rifle. "Alright," I say. We head down the stairs of the building.
"Be careful, this place is ancient," Tre says. I look around. "Yeah, yeah-" I look over and Tre for a split second before falling into the floor. The wind is pretty much knocked out of me, but I can't exactly breathe with all of the dust in the air. I open my eyes to see Tre less than a foot in front of me. "Oh," I say. No wonder I didn't crack my head open. He put himself between me and the floor. "Don't mention it," he mumbles, wiping the dust off of himself. Our faces are inches apart. I'm not bothered.
I pull myself out of the rubble and look around. "Just for the record, I did warn you," he says. I roll my eyes. "Whatever, Mr. Black is My Favorite Color," I mumble. He reaches forward and touches the cut on my forehead. "You need to get that bandaged," he says. I sigh. "Just take me to the jack*ss who caused this," I say. He sighs. "If you say so," he says. I follow closely behind him, stepping over support beams and trying not to choke after breathing in sawdust and god knows what else. "Hold on," Tre says. I glance up at him to see a small trap door on the ground. "If it's underground they know we're here," I whisper. Tre's eyes widen. "You're right." he says flatly. I back up and feel a stiff but fleshy feeling behind me. I turn around to see a tall white guy with brown hair. I draw my knife.
The guy smiles. "Looks like you're at a dead end, but," he grabs my waist and pulls me into him. "I have some ideas that might bring you back to life," he says. I can feel his arm muscles flexing to keep me from moving. I struggle to loosen his grip, "I'm good, thank you," I mumble. He leans close to my face. "It wasn't so much a choice as it was a command," he says. I scoff. "Then understand this command. Let me go or I'll kill you," I say. He smiles and moves his lips to my ear, "It's always hotter when they fight back," he says. Suddenly his eyes widen, and he grunts in pain. I barely have a split second to move before he falls forward, his blood staining my shirt. Standing in front of me is a masked man. I can't see his face, other than his green eyes. He has long lashes. "Thanks," I say.
Tre grunts. I turn around to see another masked man putting a bag over his head. "Hey! What the hell-" A sharp blow to the back of my head stuns me. I can feel my vision getting blurry as an itchy bag is put over my head.
I wake up to ice water being dumped on my head.
I gasp for air, inhaling more water than oxygen.
"Good, you're awake," a man in a black balaclava says. I look up at him, trying to blink the water out of my eyes. "P*ss off," I mutter. A fist connects with my jaw, sending a sharp aching feeling through my face. I spit the blood out of my mouth and look at the man towering above me. "I'm sure you don't want me to bruise that pretty little face of yours, would you?" he teases. I glare up at him, trying to think of a way to get my hands free of the zip-cuffs. They took my boots, so sawing them off with a shoelace isn't an option. There's no point in dislocating my thumb. A guy enters the room.
"Let me handle this," he says. Something in his voice is familiar, it's tugging at the back of my mind. I look over. His face is covered but I can see his eyes. I think it's the same guy from earlier. I jerk towards him in rage. "You! You put me here!" I yell. He sits down and sighs. "I know. And for that, I'm sorry," he says, "But we needed you here." he says. I try to calm down so that I can listen to what he's actually saying instead of trying to kill him. "Why?" I demand. He sits in front of me. "We need your help."
"Why the hell would I help you? You put a bag over my head and zip-tied me to a f*cking chair!" I exclaim. He sighs. "We heard of your plans to take down The Emperor. We want to do the same thing," he says. I look back up at his eyes. It's the same person, but his eyes are a different color. I guess they change. He sits back, one arm resting over the chair, the other casually hanging at his side. He talks with his hands as he says, "And you could use an army," he adds. I scoff. I don't want to admit that he's right. It's not fair to my ego.
"And, I know you have no reason to trust me. I don't blame you. You don't know me," he says. I nod. He continues, "But we need to trust each other if we're going to take this bastard down," he adds. I shrug in agreement, "Why don't you start by untying me. I tend to not trust people who zip-tie me to metal chairs," I deadpan. He 'tch's and grabs his knife to cut the bonds off. After they're off I pull my hands to where I can see them. I rub my wrists, trying to get some circulation going, but mostly to try and get rid of the indent in my wrists. "Now, the basics. What's your name?" I ask. The guy in front of me glances at everyone else, somehow looking for clearance to answer I suppose. "Not important," he decides. I lace up my boots. "Fine." I say. I stand up and look around the room.
"Do you secretly work for Caligula and are using the 'we hate him too' method to kidnap me and send me to your evil Roman overlords?" I ask. The men all stare at me stupidly. "No." one says dubiously. The others mumble things like; who the hell does she think we are? and this b*tch is crazy. The masked man looks at me, "No, we don't. I thought we'd established that," he says. I glance at his hand casually hanging at his side, and the way he uses "big" words makes something in me ache. Not in a good way. More in a knife-to-the-gut type of feeling. The kind that makes you want to curl into a ball and bleed out. I glance back up at him.
"What we established, is that you're a bunch of masked, gun toting idiots, and your friends about to accidentally shoot himself in the foot," I say casually. Everyone turns to the unmasked curly-haired white boy. "Where's your mask?" A man demands. The kid shrugs. "I didn't think we needed it, she is a new comrade after all." I glare pointedly at the man in front of me. "I need a name for you," I say. He tilts his head back and laughs. Quick, and short. Ha! I glare at him. "I hope you know I'm serious," I say. He shrugs. "Fine," he starts, "Call me Zero."
* * *
A few hours later, I'm situated in my new quarters. There's a small speaker that looks like it doesn't work, a bathroom, and a twin-sized bed. My feet just barely fit. If I was normal height, it wouldn't work. Perks of being three inches shorter than you're supposed to be. I look around, and pull the small picture strip out of my pocket. I've kept it since Kayden took me to Coachella. There was a little photo booth, and he insisted on taking pictures.
"Come on! We're gonna miss the set," I urged.
"No, I wanna take pictures!" Kayden smiled, pulling me towards the photo booth.
He runs, practically dragging me along.
"I thought you wanted to see my set? It's my first time performing here!" I complained.
He shrugged, opening the curtain to the booth.
"I'll make something up! Keep complaining, and you'll be late,"
Kayden slipped a quarter into the machine, and the little screen lit up. An automated timer started, and a countdown from three started.
I blink, pulling myself out of the vision.
"You okay?" Tre calls. I jump. I didn't know he was there. "Yeah, why?" I ask. I sit up and look at him. "Just checking. You've been in here alone for a while," he says. I shrug. "It's nighttime. Normal people like to sleep at this hour," I say. Tre rolls his eyes. "I know that, I'm just checking," he says. I nod. "Okay, thanks," I say. I can't hold up my dangerous mean girl facade right now. All I want to do is lay down. "You should go to shopping some time," Tre says. I look at him, hugging my pillow in my arms. "Why?" I ask. He shrugs. "You look sad. You could use some girly sh*t to cheer you up," he says. I scoff. "I'm not into the usual girlie sh*t," I say. He rolls his eyes. "You're hugging your pillow and you look like a teenage girl going through some boy sh*t," he says. "Hey," another voice says from behind Tre. Zero steps in. "Sorry to interrup," he says, "But this is important," he says. He looks at Tre. "Alone," he emphisizes. Tre glances at me. "He gives you any trouble, let me know." He says before walking out.