The cold iron of the collar around Ethan's neck dug into his skin as he slammed the last opponent to the floor. His muscles screamed from overuse, his knuckles raw and bloodied. Around him, the arena was a chaos of groaning bodies and splattered blood. Sirens blared overhead, signaling the end of this latest "trial."
He barely had time to catch his breath before the walls began to shift. Heavy steel panels slid back, revealing a new set of combatants: larger, better-armed, and worse, enhanced.
The guards barked orders. "Round two! Survivors step forward. No breaks. Fight or die."
Ethan's heart thundered in his chest. No breaks. That had been their tactic from the beginning—wear them down, grind away their strength until the body collapsed and the mind followed.
But Ethan wasn't like the others.
He wasn't going to survive for their entertainment.
He was going to escape.
Somehow.
He staggered into position, joining the dwindling line of survivors. Beside him, Kai, the wiry teenager with too much spirit for his own good, shot him a grim smile.
"You ready to die today, big guy?" Kai asked, voice strained but trying to stay light.
Ethan didn't respond. He was already scanning the arena. Every inch of it. The guards, the new combatants, the cameras. Looking for a weakness, a pattern—anything.
And then he saw it.
Near the northeast quadrant of the arena floor, one of the service doors was ajar. A crack, barely noticeable. It should have been locked down like the others, sealed with magnetic locks. Someone had left it open.
Or someone wanted it open.
Either way, it was the only opportunity Ethan had seen in days.
The arena buzzed with electric energy as the announcer's voice echoed over hidden speakers, hyping the incoming slaughter for the unseen spectators.
Ignore it, Ethan told himself. Focus.
The new enemies entered, moving with precision—too organized to be random prisoners. These were trained. Controlled.
Weapons glinted under the arena's harsh lighting—stun batons, energy blades, tranquilizer guns.
This wasn't just a fight. It was a demonstration.
The first move would have to be fast. Violent.
Ethan whispered to Kai, never taking his eyes off the opponents. "When I move, follow. We're getting out."
Kai blinked, confused. "Out of here? You serious?"
"Move fast. No hesitation."
The signal flare fired above them. Red. The start of the round.
Everything exploded at once.
Ethan charged, not toward the incoming enemies, but away—toward the service door. The guards shouted, caught off guard. A few of the enhanced fighters turned, recognizing the real threat too late.
Kai bolted after Ethan without question, and a few others, sensing the shift, hesitated before instinct kicked in and they too ran.
Ethan reached the first guard, a bulky man wielding a baton, and plowed into him with a brutal shoulder check that sent him sprawling. Before the man could rise, Ethan ripped the baton from his hand and hurled it at the control panel near the service door.
Sparks erupted from the panel. The door hissed open another few inches.
Close enough.
He shoved Kai forward. "Go!"
Bullets rang out behind them. The arena guards had dropped all pretenses—live ammunition, not tranquilizers.
Ethan spun, grabbed a fallen energy shield from a corpse, and raised it just in time to block a volley of rounds. Pain jarred his arms with each impact, but he kept moving.
They reached the door. Kai slipped through first, disappearing into the darkness beyond. Ethan followed, dragging another wounded fighter with him.
The corridor was dim and narrow, lit only by occasional emergency lights.
An alarm blared behind them. "Subject breach! Repeat: Subject breach!"
Ethan didn't slow.
"We need a way up," he growled. "Surface access."
Kai pointed ahead, breathing hard. "There! Stairs!"
The group thundered up the narrow staircase two steps at a time. Behind them, the heavy thudding of boots grew louder—guards in pursuit.
Too slow. Ethan knew it. They wouldn't outrun their captors without a distraction.
Halfway up, he spotted an emergency fire door to the side. "In there!" he barked.
Kai and the others crashed through, finding themselves in a maintenance room cluttered with electrical panels and old cleaning supplies.
Ethan slammed the door shut and wedged a metal rod into the hinges, buying precious seconds.
"We split here," he said.
Kai shook his head. "No way! We stay together!"
"You stay together, you all die," Ethan snapped. He grabbed a rusty crowbar off a shelf and shoved it into Kai's hands. "You know the way we came—go up. Find fresh air. Don't stop running."
Kai hesitated, wide-eyed.
"Now!"
They scattered, and Ethan bolted in the opposite direction, deeper into the facility. He could hear the guards splitting up, chasing both groups.
Good. Divide their forces.
He ran blindly at first, dodging through corridors, past humming machinery and empty observation rooms. The facility was bigger than he'd realized—an underground labyrinth.
Finally, he found what he was looking for.
A control center.
The door was unguarded—likely because the facility hadn't expected a breach. Inside, computer monitors blinked with status reports and security feeds.
Ethan grabbed the first chair he saw and smashed it into the console, shattering glass and spraying sparks. The screens flickered and died.
Alarms screamed louder.
"Security breach in Sector Four!"
He grabbed a headset from the desk and pressed it to his ear.
"Code Red. Lockdown initiated. Prepare for investor arrival."
Investor?
Through the remaining monitors, Ethan caught glimpses of luxury black cars pulling into a hidden surface entrance. Men in suits, military officials, and shadowy figures climbed out.
Mr. X's audience.
Rage boiled inside Ethan. They were selling them—selling people like him. Turning them into weapons.
Not anymore.
He dug through the desk drawers until he found what he needed: a security badge and a flash drive.
No plan survived contact with the enemy, but he could improvise.
With the badge, he bypassed the next few security checkpoints, moving fast and low, avoiding patrols. His heart pounded as he ascended another staircase—closer to the surface.
Gunfire echoed through the walls.
Please let Kai make it, he thought.
At the final security door, Ethan swiped the badge. A tense second ticked by. Then the lock clicked open.
He pushed into a brightly lit loading dock—and found himself face to face with Mr. X.
The man was flanked by two bodyguards, calm and smug, as if he'd been expecting Ethan all along.
"I must say," Mr. X said, adjusting his cuffs, "you performed better than expected."
Ethan raised his fists, ready for a fight.
Mr. X raised a hand lazily. "No need for that. You won't make it two steps before you're put down."
He gestured to the guards, who raised their rifles.
Ethan tensed—but then Mr. X smiled coldly.
"However," he said, "I am a businessman. Perhaps we can make a deal."
Ethan said nothing. His blood boiled.
"You help us complete the next phase of our project," Mr. X said smoothly. "Serve willingly. And in return, your friends—those that survive—will be given freedom. Real freedom."
Ethan's fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms.
Trust this man? Never.
But buying time—maybe that he could do.
He forced his voice to steady. "Let me see them. Prove they're alive."
Mr. X nodded, as if he had expected that. He pulled out a small tablet, tapping a few keys. Images flickered across the screen—Kai and the others, huddled together, alive. Bruised, but alive.
"For now," Mr. X said.
Ethan's mind raced.
He couldn't fight his way through. Not yet.
But he could play along.
For now.
He lowered his fists.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll cooperate."
Mr. X smiled wider. "Excellent."
But deep inside, Ethan vowed: The first chance I get, I'm burning this place to the ground.
And this time, no one would stop him.