There were no structures any more, not this time anyway, only a barren black void that stretched out as far as one could see. He stood, or tried to. He wasn’t even sure if he was standing on anything at all, actually. With how vapid the world around him seemed, his feet could slip through the floor and it would only be slightly more disorienting, More disorienting than seeing nothing in every direction.

  The only indicator of solid ground was a shimmer, a perfect mirror below him that adamantly refused to show his reflection, presenting everything else instead. Within the floor there were stars that pulsed in white pencil sketched scribbles across the empty sky. However, when he looked up to greet them they had vanished as though they ran into hiding, only being confident enough to express themselves through the ground’s watery surface. It was less like a floor of any kind, but a barrier that permitted everything but him from crossing.

  There was one thing in the void on his side though, a giant ball of fire that sat across from him, patiently waiting for his attention. He didn’t give it any easily, he looked every which way for anything, anything other than what lied in front of him. Eventually however, from his own curiosity, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of the ball and its red glow.

  The room became engulfed in its flame immediately, its shape growing in size and fury until it soon became the only thing that he could see, forcing itself upon his eyes.

  And as it grew beyond proportion, Flick was consumed by its scorching warpath.

  For a moment Flick couldn’t tell if he was still ensnared within his dream or if he had returned to the conscious world again, the only thing he could see were shadows of his lucidity that flitted along the ground like dotted bugs vanishing and reappearing over and over again.

  And then, in an instant he couldn’t breathe, the oxygen in his lungs stolen by the freezing cold water pouring from his head to the floor.

  “Evening dickhead!”

  Flick couldn’t tell who or what just yelled at him, the ice pooling over his eyes, clamping them shut with their chilling embrace.

  Whoever it was in front of Flick grew agitated at his prisoners shivering silence, “I said… EVENING DICKHEAD!”

  With that, another wave of cold water smothered Flick, forcing out the first words that came to mind, “FUCK OFF MAN”

  “There we go, I was wondering if Pop hit you too hard for a second y’know”.

  Flick shot a glance at the person standing before him, being the most pissed off he’s ever been as if the water invoked some deep violence within him. However, upon finally raising his head he found only a young boy looking down at him.

  “W-wha… who are you?”

  “Oh gee it’s SO kind of you to remember me man, really I’m touched!” The boy placed his hand on his chest, “This give you any reminders grandad?”

  Flick followed to boys hand to see the countless bandages and medicinal pads lining his ribcage, “Wait… no, t-that doesn’t make…”

  “Bingo asshole!” the boy spun triumphantly before continuing, “That’s right! I’m the guy you went all fuckin’ psycho on, doing that crazy spinning move broke basically every rib I had!” he cackled harshly, the broken bones in his body scratching against his lungs.

  Flick couldn’t believe the SMILE member giving him so much trouble up to now was just a child, even crazier was that SMILE was hiring kids let alone sending them out on bombing runs. The one in front of him could only be around fifteen at most and adorned an almost cartoon like shawl, draped over his shoulder as if it was a cape. All of which completely contrasted with his stylishly fitted black top that made him look much skinnier than he actually was, it was abhorrent to even consider someone like this fighting.

  A sudden realisation set in for Flick, “Oh Gaia I almost killed a kid”.

  “ALMOST?!” The boy grabbed Flick by the roots of his now wet hair pulling them as far up as they could go.

  He tried as best as he could to free his hair from the child’s hands but realised his own were chained to the wall behind him. It was then that Flick realised what position he was in, and that if the boy facing him truly was a SMILE member then he must’ve been taken back as some form of prisoner. This was his golden opportunity to unravel the group from the inside.

  “ALMOST?! YOU FUCKING KILLED ZIP AND THUNK!” the boy’s grip was grew so tight Flick could feel the base of his skull begin to bleed, “ZIP WAS THIRTEEN YOU DICK!”

  What followed that was a blur, three maybe four full strength right hooks to his temple maybe? He could only remember the taste of blood in his mouth by the end of the beating, but the sole thought on his mind was what he had done. That anger, that burning hatred the boy had was truth, that anger told him that what he said was real. He could feel the muscles in his throat twitch, needing to purge the guilt from his body through vomit, but the beating of his face rendered it impossible. Flick couldn’t help but feel horribly sick as he, more than anyone else, knew what his fusion cutter could do to human flesh. thinking about what the boy must’ve felt in his dying moments was the only thing that circled his mind, the guilt wracked him more than any blood soaked wounds could.

  “Scratch that’s enough, you’re gonna kill another if you keep it up”

  The boy suddenly stopped his assault, the girl behind him having significant sway over his actions.

  She continued “C’mon you need your rest”.

  Scratch hesitated for a second to leave, but seeing the concerned look on her face drove him back out of the room as he was told. However, as she stepped into the room it was hard to see why exactly he was so obedient to this girl in the first place. She was the polar opposite of Scratch in every way, where Scratch was fashionable and had an edge about him that rivalled a rusty dagger, she carried a fluffy air about herself that was much more innocent. Her jacket was made with holes by the thumbs so that the sleeves completely covered her arms and was sewn entirely out of light pink, cloud like curls of thread. The only thing that told Flick the girl was actually human was her black hair that was fashioned in a wolf cut, contrasting with her otherwise sheep like appearance.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about him, he’s usually not allowed in the cells, he gets a little emotional sometimes” the girl waddled to the spot where Scratch previously stood, carrying another bucket of ice just in case her prisoner decided to ‘sleep’ again.

  “I’m Pop by the way,”

  Flick looked at the girl with heavy swollen eyes.

  Pop mistook the gaze as one of fear,

  “Yeah, I was the one that bopped you on the back of the head, sorry not sorry. I had to make sure that idiot didn’t go ahead and die, he has far more responsibility now and-“

  “I…” Flick croaked, stifled by the blood in the back of his throat, “I… I’m sorry”

  Pop suddenly froze in place.

  “I’m so, so sorry.” His voice wavered, “I… I didn’t know SMILE were hiring kids to do their work, I-if I knew I swear I wouldn’t have hurt your friends.”

  Pop’s blood boiled under her skin, “Hurt is a bit of an understatement…”

  Every word that came out of Flick’s mouth felt like glass, there was nothing he could say to repent for what he’d done, he knew that. His words only made things much worse, his pity fuelling an already stoked flame, but he couldn’t stop himself. The guilt held too much weight on his actions now.

  “I know it’s not much, there’s nothing I can say to pay for what happened I know. But if I can just take down the adults running this place you can all go back to your families, I’ll make sure of that-“

  Flick didn’t get the chance to finish his proposal before another bucketful of ice water was dumped over him, followed by the bucket being slammed down on his head. Pop clearly wasn’t as quick to anger as Scratch was, but the wild and large dent in the side of her container showed that she carried the same ferocity. Even still, only a single strike to Flick’s head was enough to quell her rage for now.

  After taking a long breath of air Pop continued, as composed as she could pretend to be. “There are no adults running this.”

  She paused, “I’m sure you didn’t realise who you were fighting okay? I don’t think anyone would anyway. But what you did, what they felt, that was fucking inhumane.”

  Flick didn’t know how to respond, at first he was wrapping his head around the fact that SMILE was ran by what he only assumed were children, but then he found himself stuck on the final words Pop said.

  She was right, fighting people is one thing, but how he fought them was twisted. At first sure, he had no other choice but to use the cutter, but afterwards? Flick chose to bring it again this time. Out of everything he could’ve picked as a weapon he used this, and for what? To look cool? To be unique?

  There was nothing more he could say.

  “I’ll be back later,”

  Pop, without saying another word, got up and left, leaving him to sit in the pool of his own blood, tears and ice.

  Flick barely noticed the time pass between where she left the room and came back, everything became a blur of sensations that blended his thoughts. He desperately tried to think of how to atone for what he did, and yet at every theory or idea the thought of a thirteen-year-old boy’s melted face stopped him from thinking any further.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  ...And that noise, that… Horrible gurgling noise...

  Pop returned to the room at some point during his self-reflection and freshly armed with another ice bucket, this one being clearly brand new due to the distinct lack of a Flick-shaped bump in its side.

  “So,” Pop said “I’m gonna need some information out of you ‘kay?”

  Before Flick could answer the water was quickly evacuated from the bucket onto him, Pop using the bucket as a stool for upcoming questions,

  “First, do you have a problem being questioned?”

  Flick replied, trying to ignore the water dripping from his nose “No... I can answer whatever you want. I just want to know-“

  “Good,” Pop straightened her posture to appeal as being somewhat professional, “Second, are you aware of the conspiracy going on within the government?”

  “W-what? There’s a conspiracy?”

  She scribbled down on her notepad, “Alright that’s a no then-“

  “Wait please I just want to know why SMILE is doing all of this, I’ll answer every question you ask after that, please.”

  Pop paused for a second, then continued, “Three, are you involved with the government?”

  Flick didn’t respond, staring with desperation at Pop.

  “For fucks sake, you’re gonna do this?!” Pop shook her head in disbelief and tried to calm herself down again, proving considerably hard to do so whenever she looked at Flick’s face,

  She sighed, “Okay fine, if you don’t answer our questions though, Scratch will maim you.”

  Flick nodded.

  “All of us here are doing what we do for one reason, to stop whatever is going on. Essentially we have reason to believe that six disease was manufactured for crowd control, the pillars are purposefully killing people.”

  “What? Holy shit, t-that’s…”

  “Awful? Yeah we know, we’ve been bombing science districts and butcher shops, as many as we could find.” Pop nervously coughed, “We’ve managed to figure out that it’s being manufactured in those two places specifically, or at least it’s very likely”

  Pop frowned upon seeing Flick’s stunned speechlessness,

  “There! You happy!?”

  “Hey, listen,” Flick said, “If what you’re saying is right… I’ll do anything I can to help, genuinely.”

  He was being genuine, however part of him wanted to help as some way of atoning for what he’d done, but in his opinion the two aligned enough for it to be okay.

  Pop couldn’t quite tell if the man before her was even somewhat trustworthy, on one hand his face spoke much louder than his rasped words and it only portrayed sincerity and guilt. But on the other… This was the same sincere face that butchered her companions.

  She continued from where she left off, “…Three, are you involved with the government?”

  Flick answered as honestly as he could, “No, but I know someone who does,”

  “Well, that gets question four out the way too,” Pop scratched off a single line on a clipboard and continued, “Okay, Five, do you have close ties to Isaac Melbourne?”

  “Isaac? N-no, but why did you need to know that anyway?”

  “We’re hoping he could change something if we’re given a chance to appeal to him, he’s the most influential voice on the planet so-“ not even realising that she was talking, Pop quickly shut her mouth, “Fucking hell”

  She calmed herself down, reassuring her nerves that she didn’t give anything away, “Six, do you have close ties to a ‘Simon Wright’?”

  Flick froze the instant Simon’s name came up, “S-Si? Wait what do you need from him?!”

  Pop gave a concerned glare towards Flick, “Si? Interesting…”

  “What do you want from him?!”

  “He’s the leader of the science district, he’s our main suspect for causing the Six outbreak-“

  “W-what?! Simon would never do that!” Flick noticed Pop getting up to leave again, if he didn’t calm down now he might have to wait hours or even days to continue building a repertoire with Pop. Besides, this was something he had to know.

  “Wait, wait!” Flick urged,

  Pop stood dead in her tracks, waiting for Flick to continue.

  “Listen okay? I can take you to Simon myself if you want, he’ll tell you personally he has nothing to do with this! Besides, I’m sure he has ties to Isaac so it’s a win-win!”

  She stood in the entrance to the doorway for what seemed like minutes before finally turning back around to address her prisoner personally. Flick expected to see a face of smug amusement, one that clearly saw the advantage in having him as an asset. Instead, he saw confusion that glazed her eyes in the form of tormented tears.

  “Why? Why’re you being so helpful now huh?” Pop frowned, “What is it that you get out of this? Do you enjoy confusing me or something?!”

  Her frown morphed from sad into one of pure unbridled anger, “THEY MELTED! YOU MELTED THEM! And yet here you are now just oh so fucking helpful, the PERFECT person we need to get closer to stopping everything. You don’t even seem slightly upset, we were your enemies and yet now you’re willing to help with no strings attached!? Fuck you.”

  He took a while to formulate his response, piecing his words together as carefully as he could to avoid upsetting Pop any more.

  “I… I just want to do the right thing okay? Everyone thinks that SMILE are just a bunch of terrorists, causing harm when there’s no need. I was in the same boat too but I’m trying to change that opinion, clearly you aren’t just heartless killers.

  “There’s nothing more I can say to prove that I didn’t want to kill your friends, so I want to show you in my actions. If everything you just said is one hundred percent true, then I’ll try to help in any way I can.”

  He dreaded the heavy silence that filled the room after he finished his declaration,

  “and…” He continued, “I want to make up for everything I’ve done. If it takes abolishing some corrupt government thingy then sure, at least then I’m killing two birds with one stone”.

  The silence continued.

  Flick never got to hear the girl’s response; the moment words seemed to leave her lips Scratch returned to the room unexpectedly. Seeing a tear drenched Pop lead him to relentlessly beat Flick into an unconscious deep sleep, one that lasted much longer than the smack to the back of his head that brought him here in the first place.

  However long it took for Flick’s vision to return to him didn’t matter much anyway, even if it was for just one minute or an entire day. Regardless of how long he slept, when he awoke he would’ve been presented with the same thing in the end. A series of pissed off children and teenagers, thirsty for blood.

  When the fog lifted from his drowsy eyes, Pop was nowhere to be seen. Instead, seven teenagers stood in an arc surrounding Flick, exactly what he thought would happen once he awoke. Six of them were armed to the teeth with engine blades and scrappy armour whilst one stood completely defenceless, only bearing a single worn sword and a harsh scowl as a shield.

  Of course this lone boy was Scratch. And with how centred he was in comparison to the rest, with one foot further than the others, he must’ve been the leader of what could only be seen as an execution squad.

  What made Flick certain of this being an execution was, peculiarly, Scratch’s expression, which filled him with an odd terror he wasn’t expecting to find from such a prepubescent looking boy. Instead of his usual hatred filled glare he was completely calm, apart from the scowl anyway. It was the look of someone completely stilled by their mission, the body of one preparing for a deep and satisfying fulfilment, in this case to kill Flick.

  “Pop say’s you ‘want to help’, is that right?”

  Flick wanted to say yes, wanted to say anything to tip the dynamic of the room back to his favour.

  In the end, he only nodded quietly.

  Scratch looked down at the weapon in his hand before responding, “Right, right… in that case” he raised the tip of his sword to point at his prisoners eyes.

  “This, my overgrown friend, is a test.” He said, “You have two choices here: either A, you pick up that fusion cutter of yours in front of you and get sliced into tiny chunks or B, you walk right past us without even going near the thing,”

  Flick looked down in puzzled bewilderment to find that his fusion cutter was, indeed, lying just a couple feet in front of him and that his hands were no longer bound to the chains on the wall. He didn’t know why he was given a choice though, in his mind it was much more efficient to just off him to get it over with. He continued wondering why Scratch felt the need to test him, only for his thoughts to be cut off the instant they were about to gain traction.

  “If you’re wondering why we’re giving you a choice to decide whether you live or die it’s because I don’t trust you, none of us do for that matter.” Scratch grinned to himself, “However, If you can prove yourself useful then we could use someone with close ties like you on the inside y’know?” he said, his smile turning more sinister by the second,

  “Its lucrative ain’t it? You live to see another day and we win our little crusade here, so…” his eyes suddenly betrayed his smile, tightening as though he was watching prey, “Make. Your. Choice.”

  The room fell silent. Tension pulsed and mounded with every hushed breath and slight movement. It was a simple choice, really, walking past would be easy however, Flick didn’t feel that it was so obvious. How could someone so hate filled give such a blatant way out? It didn’t make sense no matter how many times Flick thought it over, it wasn’t even his nature to be thinking this hard in the first place so surely a group of children wouldn’t think much deeper, right?

  He rose to his feet, eventually, and as he did the seven blades encircled around him, tensed like vipers before a successfully wounded hunt. However, despite the pressure that could squeeze rocks like pillows he seemed calm, steady even.

  Flick took a step forward, and then another, continuing with a ragged pace towards the centre of the room until the fusion cutter was at his feet. He stopped.

  Scratch cocked his head at the man in front of him out of curiosity, the others flinched out of a mix of fear and anger as he slowly bent down to reach his trusted tool. When Flick grabbed the cutter the room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, and as he brought the device closer to him with his hands firmly on the trigger mechanism of the handle, Scratch circled the trigger on his own.

  If that cutter lit up, a single hair pull from his finger would end him by firing a blade square into his chest cavity. But, for a moment, Flick simply stood with the cutter in his hand admiring the fine grooves in its worn grip.

  “You wanted trust?”

  Everyone flinched, one boy nearly activating his weapon out of instinct.

  Scratch nodded silently; his blade tipping towards the centre of Flick’s forehead in quiet anticipation of what he’d do next.

  Without saying a word more, Flick turned the fusion cutter towards his other hand. Pressing the device’s nozzle into his palm, he stared with fierce determination deep into Scratch’s eyes, piercing his soul.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The pain was instant, the noise of fizzling flesh and the smell of blood turning to ash soon followed. He couldn’t help but scream the moment the tool began melting through his hand.

  It wasn’t much longer than a second or two before he turned it off, leaving only a blackened mark in his palm with a stringy hole in its centre.

  Flick panted heavily as he spoke next, trying to keep as composed as possible, “I-I’ve done some fucked up shit to your friends, to kids. If I’m gonna work with you, If you’re going to trust me, then there’s no way walking through that door is gonna prove that.” He raised his hand to show the scorch mark to Scratch more clearly,

  “This mark isn’t much, it doesn’t bring them back or pay for the things I’ve done.” He said, “But this pain won’t go away. Not in ten, twenty or even one fucking hundred years! I’ll still feel the pain in this mark.

  “I won’t forget what I did to you, to your friends, and I won’t make the same mistake again so long as I can feel the burning in my hand.”