Charles wheeled himself closer to Stephen, his eyes never leaving his. The dim lighting of the factory cast long shadows across his face, his smile more sinister."You know, Stephen," Charles started, his voice soft yet reeking with a chilling edge, "I really did want to help you. But you simply could not refrain from the urge to betray me. To run off to another country without a word? Really not how you treat a friend.Stephen chuckled and slightly shook his head. "That's the real reason, Charles? Because I was leaving? You and I know differently.Charles joined in the chuckle, a low menacing sound. "Well, you got me there. It wasn't just about you leaving. You've always been in my shadow, but lately… you started stealing my limelight. I've always been top dog, Stephen. I wasn't about to let you take that from me."Stephen's face darkened as the pieces fell into place. "Victor? He was just a by-product of this petty game you are running?"Charles eased himself back into his wheelchai

Victor and Charles stared at each other a moment longer, the air heavy with menace. With his eyes narrowing, Charles wheeled closer, darting from Victor unto the cell phone held in his hand. He noticed Victor stood rigidly and the slight facial twitch.Charles reached out and calmly took the phone from Victor's hand, never breaking eye contact. He glanced down at the screen to see it was a message from Clarke, attached to which was a picture of a battered Stephen."See anything?" Charles asked, his voice low and casual, deceptively so.Victor hesitated, then slowly stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets to mask any anxiety. "I didn’t see anything important," he lied smoothly. "Just needed some air. I’ll be back later."Charles nodded, his suspicion never quite leaving his eyes. "Al歲ght," he said, watching Victor closely as he walked out of the room.The moment Victor was out of the room, Charles had his face on the phone again; thoughts ran riot in his head. Stupid of Clarke to

Stephen's body ached, chains eating into his wrists as he just basically swung in mid-air, helpless. It was all the more worse with the chill of cold, damp air from the underground chamber, sending chills down to his bones. He looked up weakly; his vision was blurred, but he could make out the silhouette of Clarke in the poor light. Clarke was sharpening a knife; the scratching sound of metal against stone echoed in the room."Do you know why they didn't just make him a prison warden?" Clarke asked, the tone low, sinister. He continued sharpening the blade while speaking. Stephen said nothing. He was too weak and too weary. He knew that Clarke wasn't really expecting an answer.Clarke paused, eyeing the edge of the knife before continuing. "He had everything, Stephen. Money, power. But he gave it all to Charles, who the world sees as some bigshot billionaire. And what did he choose for himself? This." Clarke gestured around the dank, dark space. "A warden, someone who oversees the scu

Marriane sat in her car, drumming her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Afternoon sun filtered through the windshield, casting a warm glow over the dashboard. Other kids were spilling out of the school; their laughter echoed across the parking lot, but there was no sign of Ariane. Marriane checked the time again, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. *Why is she late?*She let out a deep breath and finally decided to step out of the car. The heat hit her as she walked briskly towards the school building, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement. She pushed open the door to Ariane's classroom, and immediately it was empty-the rows of desks neatly in a row, the class teacher tidying up, stacking books into a neat pile."Good afternoon, Mrs. Marriane," the teacher greeted, adjusting herself to greet her."I'm here to pick up Ariane. Where is she?" Marriane asked sharply.The teacher looked embarrassed as her eyes dropped to Ariane's desk now empty. "Actually, so

Stephen sat in this cold, poorly lit room. His heart was racing while he tried once more to bring the system into action. He concentrated, closing his eyes, and focused on the familiar command that usually sprang the system to life. But nothing happened. There was no response, no flicker of the interface, no comforting voice guiding him through. Only silence, broken by the constant tapping of rain against the small window high above.Frustration gnawed at him. What was blocking the system? It was there, just out of reach, yet something-or someone-was blocking it from activating. He clenched his fists, trying to push past the barrier in his mind, but it was like hitting a brick wall.It was the sound of footsteps that pulled Stephen from his musings. He looked up to see Clarke entering the room. Looking dark, Clarke muttered under his breath, seeming irritated. He wiped the rain off his face, wet from the rain outside.Getting soft, Clarke muttered under his breath. He gave a quick sha