I couldn't be more excited for the sequel! You can get here on Ebook or Paperback here; http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00NWZ58J8 I have permission from the author to post the first couple of chapters for guys to read to see you'd be interested 
Prologue
A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eye. Ashe blinked rapidly, but he couldn’t rid himself of the obnoxious sting at the edge of his pupil. He wanted to reach up and rub the pain away, but he was afraid to make a sound. Any sound could give him away.
He held his breath.
The rush of blood through his veins sounded like a jet engine starting up. His heart was racing like it was about to burst from his chest and sail several feet away. He swore that anybody within a five mile radius could hear his heartbeat, yet he hadn’t been found so far.
But it was only a matter of time. He knew that. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to creep out from under the staircase.
He heard the sounds of glass shattering and angry groans and shouts. A loud thump, like a table being overturned, made him jump.
A sick melody took over his mind and sang the same chorus over and over in his head. He is going to find me. He is going to find me. He is going to find me…
The words cycled endlessly around his skull—a broken record made of razor blades, cutting deep into his core and coating every blood cell in his body with adrenaline. He felt the numbing tingle of fear fall on him like a July rain and saturate him wholly.
Every second hurt.
Then he heard footsteps at the top of the stairs. He could smell whiskey from where he crouched.
The creak of the old, wooden stairs announced the approaching of what Ashe dreaded the most. He watched dust fall from the stairs above him as a pair of large boots descended to the basement floor.
His heartbeat was a cacophony of thunderclaps and toppling skyscrapers.
The owner of the boots stopped on the last step of the staircase. The man scanned the room before him, looking deep into the darkness. He was searching every last corner of the dusty basement for him; he was so close, Ashe could have reached out and touched the man’s pant leg through the open slots between the steps.
“Ashe, where are you?”
He is going to find me. He is going to find me. He is going to find me.
The man stepped onto the floor and began to walk to the side of the basement. In only a few more steps, the man would be able to see Ashe in his meager hiding space.
He is going to find me. God, please don’t let him find me. Please don’t let him find me.
He tried to sink farther into the shadows of the staircase, but the cold, cement wall he was pressed against refused to yield to him. He was trapped in his own flesh and bones.
Ashe felt something cold against his hand.
It was metallic, but almost entirely rusted. He let his fingers trace the rough handle of the long-lost hammer, abandoned and forgotten under the stairs many years ago.
The man swept the room again, but this time his eyes landed on the shivering form in the darkness of the stairs. Their eyes met, and in that moment the world froze. Ashe could see the man’s breath, and his own, like ghosts trying to escape the grave.
“There you are, Ashe.”
Ashe heard a voice, clear and strong, from within the storm that filled his body.
Stand your ground and fight!
He did as he was told.
Chapter One
Where am I?
The lights in the subway car blinked savagely above Ashe’s head. Different sections of the car fell into complete darkness, until bursting back into view as a different light sparked. The boy found his eyes following the blinking lights in a futile attempt to take in all his surroundings. He sat facing into the car, across from a row of red, torn seats. The opposing row fell into darkness under the flickering lights.
When did I get on the subway?
Running across the floor, between the rows of seats, was a pattern of a single, repeating shape. Ashe had to focus on different areas of the floor to figure out what it was. They looked like blue shields, and they were printed along the entirety of the floor, front exit to back exit. The shields reminded Ashe of something—something he had seen multiple times in his life. A symbol or a logo—his mind couldn’t recall it.
Why am I on the subway…and where the hell am I going?
The car suddenly trembled, slamming his head into the window behind him. All thoughts of the blue shields were rammed out of his skull. Ashe tried to reach up and rub the back of his head, but instead of raising his arm, he heard a rattle and snap. He felt his wrists being pinched by something cold. Forgetting his growing headache, he glanced down. Metallic cuffs clamped around each of his wrists, chaining him to the rusting armrests at his sides.
What in the wor—
Some form of understanding stormed his brain. He couldn’t breathe. Am I being kidnapped? Oh shit!
The overbearing creak of the subway joints and the panicked shaking of his cuffs filled the car. He began to grunt as he tried to pull against his restraints, hoping to find a weak spot in the rusting metal of his seat. He had lost himself in his hopeless struggle, when a tiny noise sliced through the roar of the tracks below.
It was someone crying.
Ashe whipped around toward the noise. The light-fixture in the far corner of the car stayed defiantly dark. His eyes refused to adjust with the flashes of random lights coming back to life in his peripherals. The sobs drifted across the car like a banshee was crying in the shadows, hiding just out of sight.
“Hell—hello?” Ashe whispered into the darkness. His voice was lost in the screech of the subway rails. He took a quick breath through his nose and forced the question out a little louder. “Hello?”
All the lights in the car lit at once like a fuse had responded to his call. The car was bathed in white fluorescents, highlighting the grime and age of his surroundings.
But in the quick flash, Ashe had seen her.
And she had seen him.
Her knees were pulled up to her chest. She wore tight, black jeans, a simple, white shirt, and no shoes. He noticed he was wearing the same outfit. Her hair was cut shoulder-length, with several waves, and in the light, it was the color of honey. Her blue eyes ripped into his chest like she had shot him. She was also in chains. There was utter terror and surprise lurking behind the beautiful blue of her gaze. She looked at him like she hadn’t noticed him or the racket he had made while wrestling with his restraints, and maybe she hadn’t.
The next second, she was plunged back into the abyss. Ashe could still feel her eyes on him, filling his skin with holes.
It seemed like the dumbest thing he could possibly say at the moment, but he asked anyway. “Hey, are you okay?”
There was no response, but he knew that he had her full attention. The sobbing had stopped.
“If it’s any comfort, I think we are in the same boat…so at least you know I’m not the kidnapper…” Ashe paused, rethinking his words as he heard another sob. “Not that I’m saying we are being kidnapped—maybe it’s something else and we—I mean…I am presuming the worst.”
You’re doing swimmingly, Ashe. You’re really doing a swell job making her feel better. He sighed. He reminded himself that nothing in his life was going “swimmingly” at the moment.
He had never been good at talking to girls. Well actually, he had never been good at talking to anyone. He had always been the kind of person who could think of dozens of quick comments and comebacks, but either stumbled over his words or chose to say nothing. His social awkwardness was definitely not gender selective. Talking led to friendship, and friendship led to being honest with another person; he wasn’t good at either. He crammed the bubbling memories away into a box in the far reaches of his mind.
“Sorry…” He tried again, “Are you chained up as well?” He had already seen the cuffs around her arms, but it seemed like as good a place to start as any.
It was subtle, but he heard her.
“Yeah. I think.”
“You think?”
There was silence from her dark corner for several seconds; each second felt like the forming of the world and its demise. In that car, Ashe lived through a dozen cycles of the universe. He waited.
“I…I can’t feel my arms.” It was only a breath, breaching sticking, dry lips, but it felt like an imploding star to him. “…at all.”
Shit. Shit! What is happening? What the hell is all this?
He took deep intakes of air through his nostrils, steadying himself. Some kind of primitive, patriarchal impulse to be brave for this girl he didn’t know clamped down on him like the chains were tightening around his entire body. Ashe knew he was going to have to change. He would have to leave behind the version of himself who preferred to sit quietly in the corner and simply observe. That Ashe would neither benefit this girl nor himself. He tried to pull himself together. He felt like he was pulling bits of himself from every corner of the car.
“It’s okay. It’s okay…” He could hear the doubt in his own voice. He took a deep breath and tried to sound more confident. “The cuffs are probably just cutting off the circulation of blood in your arms. Yeah, that’s probably it. Uh, and yeah…we will you know…figure a way out of this.”
He was a terrible liar.
So he tried to be honest. “I’m Ashe.”
Another pause. “I’m Ericka.”
“Well Ericka…it’s nice to meet you. I wish this had been under better circumstances, but what are you gonna do?” He laughed at his own pitiful attempt to mask the fear crawling its way out of his stomach.
Ericka didn’t follow his example in attempting pleasantries. “Do you think we are going to die?”
Great, I get stuck in the subway car to hell with Emily Dickinson. He glanced around the bleak expanse of the car and the manacles on his arms. It certainly did look like a hopeless situation. Maybe we are going to die in here, he thought. He was terrified, but he knew it wouldn’t help to show it.
He emptied his lungs into his lips, making a loud puffing sound. He was buying time to figure out how to respond.
He was done pretending that everything was hunky-dory. What does hunky-dory even mean? he wondered quickly, but another sob brought him back to her question. He found himself wanting to be completely honest with her, and even though he knew he was a bad liar, he mostly found himself finding sly ways to dance around the truth or give only half answers to people, especially when it came to anything remotely personal or emotional. In those cases, he would find a way to change the topic or maneuver around the question, but for some reason, he didn’t feel the need to with her, or maybe it was just their current situation.
“I have no clue, and I wish I could tell you something else, but these chains,” he made a show of jingling his cuffs, “are ruining every attempt for me to tell myself this is just a dream.”
“More like a nightmare.”
“Yeah.”
Ashe looked around the car, not looking at anything in particular, just trying to figure out what to say next. The lights above Ericka continued to flicker sporadically, only revealing pieces of her before returning to darkness.
“How old are you, Ericka?”
“Fifteen.”
Ashe was actually surprised at this, not as surprised as waking up in chains on a subway car, but still, he was surprised by her age. Though her crying made her seem younger, she looked as if she had to be older than fifteen. She had the figure of someone who could definitely make it into any club with just the bat of her eyes. He quickly wondered where this thought had come from. He had never been to a club before in his life, so how could he know this? Ashe decided not to say anything. Not the right time, he told himself.
The echoing pressure of the car’s movement continued to flood the room. It pressed against Ashe, forcing anymore thoughts of escape away. It sucked all the energy from his body. He knew he would just have to wait—wait to figure out where and when this ride would end. He had to accept that his life was no longer in his own hands, but then again, since the day he was born, it never had been.
Ashe stared at the ceiling, watching the blinking lights. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal, but nothing in his life was ideal. Then a startling thought popped into his head: at least it was a change. He was blindly being shuttled through some ancient subway to some unknown destination and he found a spark of excitement buried under the layers of terror, and underneath that was a bizarre relief. He had always wanted to leave his home, but had never had any place to go. Well now he had some place to go, even if he didn’t know where that place was or when he would get there. He was instantly disgusted with himself, though he might be content with his uncertain fate, he thought of poor Ericka, probably ripped from her loving mother and father. He pushed aside his own mixed thoughts and focused on her.
In that moment, he decided to protect her, no matter what. He couldn’t pinpoint why this was so important to him so suddenly, but it didn’t really matter to him. For the first time, he had a goal and purpose outside himself. He would try to ignore his own fear and focus on hers, he decided. Her life would come before his, regardless of what horrors were at the end of these rails.
My life is disposable, but not hers. She deserves so much more.
A wailing, metallic shriek rushed the car, filling every nook of the room and overtaking every seat in the car like passengers on the busy commute home. The subway began to slow gradually and then, all at once, it stopped.
Ashe was thrown against the armrest to his left. He heard a small thump and a startled gasp come from Ericka’s corner. Ashe realized he could finally see Ericka completely. All the lights in the car came to life at once. He hadn’t realized how pale she was. She righted herself with a squirm and tossed a concerned look at Ashe, who responded with a shrug.
Silence fell over the two. The tireless metal-scraping and gushes of passing air were gone. It seemed like even the tiniest whisper would shatter the glass around them
Suddenly a thought struck Ashe. Could there be more people on the train? Others who had been taken, chained in other cars of the train? He decided he had enough to worry about in this car without adding in others he couldn’t see.
Sunlight filtered in from some unknown source just outside their windows. He gestured with his head to the window. “At least we didn’t end up in some dungeon or something. Sunlight is a good sign, right?.”
“You really have a way of making a girl feel safe,” Ericka sighed, and Ashe watched her roll her eyes.
“I’ll take your sass as a sign that you are feeling a little better?”
“Still can’t feel my arms and still don’t know where the hell I am, so no, my sass is just a defense mechanism now that I can see around myself.” It was stunning how quickly her demeanor had changed. Her voice no longer shook with sobs. She was still quiet, but her voice was firm.
“Damn. We have to be the two most cheery people in the world. Maybe our charisma is why we were taken.” Ashe put on a tiny smile for her.
He was about to wonder if anyone was coming or if they would just sit in their chains until they starved to death, when he saw shadows run across the windows. Ashe only had to look a little to his left, while Ericka had to crane her body forward and to a strange angle, to see the congregation of figures at the car door. The door was built with fogged glass, so Ashe could only see black shadows. The door began to slide with a sickening groan.
Here we go! Ashe shouted in his mind like a battle cry. It was finally time to find out where he was and what was going on.
Into the car, stepped two young men. One had tanned skin and black hair slicked back. He was built muscular, but a little below average height. Regardless, he still had an intimidating look to him. He wore a red v-neck and a pair of black jeans. Ashe could see the beginnings of a tattoo on his collar. However, the thing that caught Ashe’s eye, besides the shifty used-automobile salesman hairdo, was the odd flash when the guy smiled. One side of his lip crept upward into a devious smile and Ashe could see his teeth were silver, like they had been plated in metal and sharpened to fine points. He swept the car with the eye of an angry teacher about to disperse a monumental test.
He was the first to speak. “Let’s see, who do I want?”
Ashe’s mind warped into a blur, but he couldn’t put any remarks or outbursts into words. The question chilled him up and down his spine.
The second teenager spoke up. “I don’t care, Craig, just hurry up.”
Craig turned to the other and sneered, “Oh, blow it out your ass, Draven.”
Draven was taller than Craig, but much more slender. He was pale, but not as pale as Ericka. He had the physique of a college basketball player. His hair was buzzed, military style, though Ashe could only see the beginnings of it. He wore a tight-fitting black shirt and a long, black coat, made of some kind of shiny material, with the hood up. From head to toe, he was cloaked in black.
Craig got uncomfortably close to Ashe and squatted so they were face-to-face. Ashe tried to pull away, but his shackles refused to yield more than a few inches. Craig’s breath reeked of gasoline and something burning. “And what is your name, kid?”
Ashe sucked in air through his teeth. This is not what he had been expecting, not at all, and he wasn’t sure if it calmed him or made him more terrified.
Craig inched closer. “Did you hear me, kid? I asked you what your name was.” His chrome jaws were too close for Ashe’s comfort.
“Uh, it’s Ashe—Ashe Edwards.”
“All right, Ashe Edwards, and what is it that you do?”
Ashe could only stare at the older teenager in front of him. His mind was a typhoon of competing thoughts. What do I do? Well sometimes I eat and breathe, and oh yeah, apparently I now do this cool thing where I magically appear on subways, chained to the chair, heading for some bizarre gang hangout. Ashe decided to keep his mouth shut. He was already starting to revert to the old, reserved Ashe.
“Not very talkative is he, Draven?” Craig turned away from Ashe.
Draven didn’t respond either, so Craig stood back up and walked toward Ericka.
“And what do we have here? Do my eyes deceive me or have the counselors sent us an angel this time?” There was nothing pleasant about the way he spoke to her. Something poisonous lingered on his lips.
Ericka sat paralyzed, watching the whole scene before her with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape.
Craig sat in the seat next to her. He caught hold of her jaw and pulled her face to his. He examined her like livestock, pushing her head from side to side so he could look at her from all angles.
Ashe couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t stand to see this guy put his hands on her like that.
A war between two different versions of Ashe raged inside his skull. One repeated it was best to just stay quiet and let what was going to happen happen. There was nothing he could do in this situation. It was self-preservation, something he had become very good at over the years.
But the other Ashe kept pushing back and surging through his mind. He reminded Ashe of the promise he had made only minutes ago. You said you were going to protect her! This new Ashe was thunder in his skull. Stand your ground and fight!
Has this side of me always been here? Ashe couldn’t help but wonder.
“You got a name, honey?”
Ericka limply stared at him. She was a doll in the hands of a mean, older brother. Her lips moved, trying to push out words that refused to surface.
“What was that, sweetie? You are going to have to speak up.”
Fire was building in Ashe’s stomach. Ericka shot him a deer-in-the-headlights look, and that was enough for Ashe. The fire surged up his throat and to his tongue.
“Get your hands off her!” The war was over and the new Ashe had come out victorious. The old Ashe was dead, and there was no time to mourn him. “Or I swear to God…you will regret it!” He instantly regretted the emptiness of his threat, but at least he had managed to say something. Draven’s eyes flicked toward Ashe like he had just noticed him.
Craig whipped around with bloodlust in his eyes and a deep scowl on his face. Ashe had to force himself not to shatter into pieces under Craig’s glare. But before Ashe could say anything else, Craig swept back over to him. His knuckles connected with Ashe’s left cheek, sending his head back into the window he had hit before.
“What the hell did you just say to me?” Madness saturated his eyes. Craig raised his fist to strike again. “Say it again, kid. One more time. I dare you.” He had the eyes of a crazed animal.
Draven placed a hand on Craig’s arm and pulled it back. For being so skinny, Draven easily lowered Craig’s fist and moved him away from Ashe, before he could take another swing at him.
“Get off me!” Craig spat and jumped away from Draven. Ashe noticed that Draven’s expression had not changed the entire time. He stood calm and collected, taking in everything around him carefully.
“Make your choice, Craig. I haven’t got all day,” Draven said, sounding slightly bored.
Craig looked at the two cuffed prisoners with a firm snarl on his face, and then turned toward the door. At some point during all the commotion, several faces had appeared at the door. They were staring into the car to get a look at the new arrivals. “Brittany, get in here!”
As if she had been waiting for her cue, a wispy, red-haired girl strutted into the train car. She wore a red tank top and a scarlet gemstone necklace tight around her throat. Her bright orange shorts were halfway up her thighs and her high-top shoes were black with printed flames wrapping around her heels. Her hair was down in long side-braids and she wore outrageously red lipstick. She directed her nose to the car’s ceiling and pursed her lips as she glanced quickly around the room. She offered Draven a quick glare, whose expression did not change in the slightest as he stared back at her.
She rolled her eyes before turning back to Craig with an expression of undying admiration. “Yeah boss?” she asked with an overemphasized pop of her lips, clamoring to his side.
“I’ve already made my decision, but I wanted you to see the pathetic replacements they sent us this time.” Craig put his arm around her shoulders.
Brittany stared down at Ashe. “Oh, this one is a little cutie, but I think the warbots will make quick work of that precious, little face,” Ashe could already taste something sour from looking at her. She continued, “but with some work, I could probably turn her into a killer.” She pointed with her thumb toward Ericka without even looking at her.
Ashe could hear Ericka take a quick breath.
“Turn her into a killer? What the hell does that mean?” Ashe was livid. This was all happening so quickly. Don’t we have a say in any of this? Who are these guys to decide our fate? They can’t be much older than Ericka or me.
Craig beamed a huge, silver smile. “Exactly what I was thinking. This brat would just slow us down.” He pointed toward Ashe. He turned back to Brittany. “Get the cutters.”
Brittany left the car, pushing through the crowd of onlookers, all which seemed to be in their mid- to late teens. Ashe was definitely the youngest here. He was only fourteen, and even though Ericka claimed to only be one year older than him, she looked a few years older at least.
Draven sighed, relieved. “So it’s settled.” He turned toward the door that Brittany had just left through. “Terra, could you please come in here?”
Again, like magic, another teenage girl strode through the door. Unlike Brittany, this girl, Terra, did not give anyone else her attention, but stepped directly to Draven’s side with an air of confidence and grace, keeping a few inches between Draven and herself. This new girl had milk-chocolate skin and straightened, black hair. She was dressed in complete shades of black like the guy she now stood beside. However, like Craig’s metallic teeth, there was something strange about her appearance. The veins on her dark arms were electric blue and rose from her skin like a mesh of spider webs, curling into her hands and to her fingertips. She flashed Ashe a smile, dazzling white, as she handed Draven a pair of bolt cutters. Ashe kept looking from her face to her arms, not sure if he should be more stupefied by her beauty or deformity. Either way, she held herself high, demanding respect.
Draven turned slightly to Terra. “What do you think?”
“He is ours?” They were both looking down on him. Ashe felt like he was a couple’s newborn child…or maybe a biology frog cut open for examination. He couldn’t decide.
Ashe was about to say something to claim himself as his own, but Terra clicked her tongue and spoke again.
“I think he will do just fine. He is a little fragile looking, but hey, look at you, Draven, no one would have expected you to survive here if you had arrived as a replacement.”
Draven grunted in response. Ashe wasn’t sure if he was acknowledging Terra’s statement or refuting her comment on his build.
She looked like she was about to speak directly to Ashe, but then Craig began to cackle from behind the two.
“Pathetic. What kind of leader needs to ask others for their opinions?”
Draven didn’t even turn to look at Craig, but answered simply, “A good one.”
Craig bared his silver fangs at Draven. “I swear to God, Draven, one of these days, you will be put in your place.”
Terra whipped around to face Craig; Draven stood perfectly still.
“And I swear to God, Craig, if you make one more threat against anyone on my team, and that includes our new member here,” she pointed at Ashe, “I will personally make you swallow each and every one of those metal teeth of yours.” Terra spoke calmly, but still the pressure of her tone pushed Ashe far back into his seat.
Craig’s face contorted even further, somehow revealing more sharp, chrome teeth between his stretched lips. “Watch your mouth or I’ll rip it off your pretty face, bitch,” he snarled.
For the first time, Ashe saw Draven flinch and his expression change, but he quickly reconciled himself.
Terra did not hurl some kind of comeback or insult, or even lunge at Craig like Ashe would have thought, but simply straightened herself up further; she was almost half of a foot taller than Craig. She held Craig’s stare.
“You are no leader, Craig. You’re a thug. You act like a middle school bully that never grew up.”
Terra turned her back on Craig to face Ashe again. Craig looked like he was about to explode in her direction, and Ashe was about to give warning, but at that moment Brittany returned to the car carrying another pair of bolt cutters.
Immediately, she noticed Craig’s boiling rage and painted her own face with it.
“What the hell is going on? What did you two do?” She turned to Craig, pleading, “What’s wrong? Did the bitch say something? Or was it the faggot?”
Ashe saw Terra’s face melt away into pure outrage, like she had just been slapped. Her fists curled into tight balls and she looked as though she was about to run one of her arms right through Brittany’s chest. Ashe thought he saw the blue veins in her arms begin to glow faintly, but it was Draven who acted first.
“Enough!” Draven roared. His fists were clenched tight like Terra’s. “Take your new teammate and go!” He turned to Craig and Brittany. “I—we do not have time for this. We only have the two days before we start again, and I for one do not plan on losing another teammate this week, because I was too busy having it out with you instead of properly preparing.”
Brittany opened her mouth to start something, but Craig stopped her by ripping the bolt cutters from her hands. He stomped over to Ericka and cut her chains. “Come,” was all he said as he turned and swept out of the train car. Brittany helped a fretful-looking Ericka out of her seat and through the train door. Ericka did not look back at Ashe as she left.
Draven didn’t say anything, but instead stepped closer to Ashe. Without a word, he used the cutters to bite through Ashe’s cuffs so he could pull his wrists from the twisted metal remains. Ashe made a show of rubbing his wrists, more to stall for time than anything else.
Draven held out a hand to Ashe. His face had returned to an expressionless void. “Hello, Ashe Edwards. My name is Draven Briggs, and this is Terra Velter.” He motioned to the girl standing behind him. “Welcome to Camp Hell, but more importantly welcome to the Black Birds. We will be looking out for one another from now on.”
Chapter Two
“You call this place Camp Hell? Well, that’s encouraging!” Ashe was trying really hard to keep his cool, but finding it incredibly difficult. Draven’s emotionless, bored expression only infuriated Ashe more. Why is no one else freaking out and running around looking for a way out? He kept asking himself as he tried to take in the entirety of his surroundings. “Is this some kind of prison or something? Because if it is, I haven’t done anything!”
Ashe sat on a rather comfy sofa. He sank into the cushions, and felt incredibly stupid and agitated, as he stared down Draven, who sat on a wooden chair before him, legs and arms crossed. “Settle down. None of us have any clue why we are here either.”
Here. Ashe had no idea where here even was.
Upon exiting the subway car and walking up a few flights of stairs into daylight, he found himself in the middle of a small, retro town. Houses and buildings surrounded the entrance to the subway station. None had any markings to indicate that they had once served a purpose. The storefronts had signs, but no lettering to identify what they were. At first, Ashe thought he was in a bustling area, but found that what he had first thought were other living people, were poorly constructed mannequins. They were placed in lifelike stances and poses. Some sat on benches, while others stood on the streets like they had places to be. Two were even shaking hands on the sidewalk in frozen eternity. It was eerie.
Other teenagers scurried about the streets, avoiding the mannequins. Some stopped to glance at him, but quickly turned away and kept moving.
Ashe was instructed to follow Draven and Terra with no other explanation. Ashe tried to protest against letting Ericka be taken by Craig and Brittany. He tried to fight for her, tell Draven and Terra that they needed to save her, but Draven cut his attempts short and told him to fall in line or else. Ashe didn’t know what the “else” was, but he was sure that Ericka was in for much worse. When Ashe ignored Draven’s threat, the taller boy pushed him into the side of the train and told him: “She will be okay. They won’t hurt her. She is one of them now.”
Ashe had a thousand questions, but Draven said he wouldn’t answer any of them until they got to home base, and Terra ignored him when he started questioning her. When Draven had a decent lead on Ashe and Terra, he asked her a question he knew she would have to respond to.
“So are you and Draven like together?”
Terra turned to Ashe with a twisted expression, but then burst into laughter. Draven craned his neck to see what was going on behind him, but turned away quickly and kept his pace.
“No. No. No,” Terra sighed, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “No. Draven is my leader, and he isn’t my type, and I’m not his either, and besides, I already have a boyfriend.”
And with that, Terra gave another light chuckle and raced to catch up with Draven. She said something Ashe couldn’t hear to Draven. She started to laugh again, but Draven didn’t seem amused.
Ashe suddenly felt quite awkward and vulnerable. Some part of him commended itself for finally getting an answer to one of his questions, but another part reminded him it was an inappropriate question, especially in their circumstance.
Terra turned back to Ashe and noticed him lagging behind. “Hey Ashe! Hurry up!” she yelled back at him.
His discomfort slipped away and was forgotten. He decided he had no other choice but to fall in line and follow the two. He sped up to walk along Draven’s empty side.
They walked down a couple of blocks, twisting and turning down different streets. Ashe was still barefoot and the gravel began to grate on his feet. Finally, they turned down a dingy alley. At the end of the alley, under an exceedingly tall building, Draven pulled open a set of copper doors protruding from the ground. The two descended into the darkness beyond the doors without a word. Ashe took a quick look over his shoulder, trying to decide if he should try to run, perhaps he could get away, but uncertainty stopped him.
He found himself somewhat drawn to Draven, and certainly Terra. Even though Draven had been rough with him, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. He reminded himself that Draven had stopped Craig from beating the holy hell out of him on the train. Ashe could tell they were all in the same position. They were all taken and dropped here against their will.
Ashe descended into the darkness after them.
He couldn’t see anything at first, but then Draven pulled a string that dangled from the ceiling and light from a small, fluorescent bulb lit the room. They were in a basement, but they didn’t stay there long. Terra shut the doors they had entered through and Draven was already at another set of stairs that Ashe assumed led up into the building. Ashe crossed the room to the stairs after Draven, and Terra swiftly filed in behind him.
The stairs opened into what looked like a hotel lobby. The stairs came up right behind the front desk, which faced glass doors. They were boarded up, and the handles chained.
Ashe was told to sit on the couch, while Terra left to get the others. Ashe wasn’t too thrilled at this prospect, but sat anyway. Draven took a wooden chair and positioned it facing Ashe, and that was when the questions started to burst from Ashe.
“Settle down? Settle down?” Ashe’s voice was rising. “How the hell am I supposed to settle down when I was taken from my home and brought to God-knows-where?”
“Just wait until the others get here and then we can start.”
“So I’m supposed to just sit here calmly and wait?” Ashe was yelling now. He jumped to his feet.
Draven looked him up and down. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”
“Instead of sitting here doing nothing, why are we not trying to escape?”
“Because we can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“Nope,” Draven sighed.
“Well, why not? I don’t see anyone trying to stop us!”
Draven breathed in through his nostrils. “For the last time, just wait like two minutes for the others.”
“This is stupid! I’m out of here. I don’t need you! I’m gonna find Ericka and get the hell out of this shit-hole.” Ashe was already heading toward the front desk and the stairs to the basement.
Ashe had reached the first stair when Draven spoke again. “What year do you think it is?”
Ashe stopped. It seemed like the most ridiculous question in the world. He turned back to Draven. “What?”
“I asked you what year you think it is.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” Ashe replied. “It’s 2038.”
Ashe was starting to descend the stairs again when Draven chuckled. “Nah dude, it’s 2041.”
Ashe paused, turned around and then walked back up the steps until he could see Draven over the front desk. He was staring at him from his chair.
“Excuse me?” Ashe demanded.
“You keep doing this thing where you hear me perfectly fine, but still make me repeat what I just said.” Draven turned away, but still continued, “It’s kinda annoying, but dude, check the calendar behind you.”
Ashe found a calendar, pinned on the wall behind the front desk. No one used printed calendars anymore. Everything was electronic now. Ashe also realized that the computer on the front desk was ancient and more importantly, didn’t even look like it worked.
The calendar verified what Draven said, but Ashe still wasn’t buying it. However, Ashe couldn’t figure out a reason for Draven to make up such a ridiculous thing.
“Are you trying to tell me I was on that train for three years?”
“Not at all.” Draven still didn’t look at him, but instead motioned to the sofa. Ashe retook his spot, sinking back into the fluffy seat. Draven spoke when he was seated, “That ride takes maybe four hours…tops. However, the counselors must have taken three years from your mind.”
“The counselors took…” Ashe couldn’t finish his question, as white lightning struck his mind. His hands went instantly to his face. “That would mean I’m…”
Draven straight expression broke into a slight smile. “Bathroom’s right around that corner and to the right,” he chortled as he pointed to the hall next to the front desk.
Ashe was on his feet and moving before Draven had finished speaking. Three years? I’ve lost three years? Well, where the hell did they go? Ashe didn’t even bother trying to calm himself or deny what Draven had told him. He had to get to a mirror and see for himself.
Ashe found the bathroom quickly, a single person room, but before he closed the door behind him, he heard Draven yell from the lobby. “Also, check your chest while you are in there. It will save you another trip to the bathroom!”
Without fully understanding Draven’s message, Ashe was at the mirror. He would figure out what Draven had said after he had a good look at himself.
It was still him. It was obviously still him, but there were subtle differences. Ashe ran his finger along his stubbly beard. Before he had woken up on the subway, he had only been able to grow peach fuzz, and it was splotchy at best. Now he had the potential for a full beard if he gave it a few weeks. He also noticed he was growing neck stubble.
“Perfect. Just what I needed, more hair and more work,” Ashe sighed, not knowing if he should be freaking out. “At least, I can say I skipped three years of hellish puberty.”
Another sigh. No. No. No way! This is some weird-ass joke or something. I could not possibly have lost three years of my life.
But the proof was on his face, literally. The skin below his eyes had a more worn-out, somber look than he was used to seeing in the mirror, almost like he had been sleep deprived for the three years he lost. His acne had cleared up almost completely. It’s a freakin’ miracle, Ashe joked. He was also now taller, taller than Craig, but still not as tall as Draven. His hair had grown. How had he not noticed his bangs creeping into his eyes, when what felt like only a few hours ago, he had a buzz cut. His light brown hair was a nest of tangles. His brown eyes were dull, void of any childish spark.
Ashe looked at the door, though he knew he had locked it. He ripped off his belt and pulled the waist of his jeans and boxers away from his body, and looked down.
“All right, so it has been three years,” Ashe told himself as he replaced his belt. “Shit. I’ve lost three years of my life…I’m seventeen?”
He didn’t feel seventeen. But then again, what does seventeen even feel like?
Then he remembered what Draven had said, something about his chest. Ashe pulled his shirt off as quickly as he could, the collar getting caught on his nose and then in his hair. He tossed it to the side of the bathroom and stared back into the mirror.
“What the hell…?” Ashe dragged out his question as he got closer to the mirror. He looked down at his chest, and then back at the mirror. He had to make sure this wasn’t some kind of hallucination.
Right below his left collarbone was a tattoo. It was a blue shield. Recognition blew into his head like a tropical storm. It was the same as on the floor of the train. He still couldn’t place why it seemed so familiar. It was almost an oval, but at the top it morphed into three spikes, each the same length. The spikes pointed at something. Right above the shield was a rectangle of splattered black. Ashe looked back into the mirror. It was a bar code. Someone put a bar code on me! What am I, a freakin’ box of cereal? Ashe fumed. He was the one teenager on Earth who never wanted a tattoo.
“And they couldn’t even give me something better? Like a shark or something.” Ashe took a deep breath and retrieved his shirt from the floor. “I would have even taken a freakin’ unicorn or something over a bar code.”
He had enough of looking at himself. If he never had to see himself again, he could die happy. Ashe opened the door and drifted like a ghost back to the lobby.
“So, uh, you weren’t lyin’ were you…?” Ashe noticed they had company.
Draven still sat on his wooden chair, but now there were three others in the room. Terra reclined on the right side of the couch Ashe had been sitting on. She motioned for him to sit next to her.
Leaning up against the wall to the right of the sofa was a lean boy. He had greasy black hair, which hung into his eyes. He stared at Ashe with an expression of disapproval. Sitting in an armchair on the other side of the couch was a wide-eyed, younger boy. His eyes were made more noticeable by the two large scars that cut down his face. Each one jagged across his eyes, from forehead to lower cheek. He had a Mohawk, which hung limply to the side, covering half of his shaved head.
Ashe stopped in his tracks, taking everyone in.
Draven spoke first. “Ashe, meet the Black Birds, your new teammates.”
Ashe felt awkward standing and staring at all of them, so he took the seat next to Terra, and continued to stare.
Draven pointed to each person and said their name. Samuel was the guy leaning against the wall, now looking more disinterested than angry. The Mohawk-kid, leaning forward and refusing to take his wide eyes off him, was named Connor.
“And you have already met my second-in-command, Terra,” Draven finished.
Terra gave Ashe an acknowledging nod and smile. If Ashe hadn’t just woken up in some strange ghost-town with a bunch of bizarre teens, fighting at the drop of a pen, he would have been excited that a girl as pretty as Terra had noticed him. Unfortunately, her closeness only made him more uncomfortable.
He wished he could just crawl into a corner and avoid all social interactions for the rest of his life. In fact, he had pretty much perfected the art in high school. Avoiding anything that made him feel uncomfortable, that’s how he had lived before he woke up on that train. He wanted to get up and run, but he knew the new Ashe would never do that, and he had already set the old Ashe off on ship and set it on fire. He let his thirst for answers take over.
“Uh, nice to meet you all…Anyway—” Ashe began, but was quickly cut off.
“Nice to meet you too, mate!” Connor interrupted and reached his hand out. He had a slight British accent to him.
Ashe took his hand, slightly startled. Connor gripped tightly and shook excitedly, pulling Ashe’s complete focus to him. When he let go, Terra was chuckling softly. Ashe raised an eyebrow at her, but then turned back to Draven.
“Anyway, so I guess you were right after all,” Ashe pursed his lips, “about the year thing.”
“Yeah. It sucks doesn’t it?” Draven leaned back in his chair. “But all of us here had some amount of time stolen from us. Samuel and Terra lost a little over a year. I lost two and a half, and Connor had all the luck and only lost—how many months?”
Connor didn’t even look at Draven to answer. “Six months. Got taken when I was fourteen and woke up at fifteen. Missed my birthday,” he sulked.
Weirdly enough, this actually relieved Ashe. At least he wasn’t in this alone, and as he thought about it, this would explain why Ericka didn’t look like a fifteen year old like she had thought.
A pang of guilt hit him. She floated to the front of his mind, and pushed his other questions behind.
“Will Ericka be okay with that guy, like really okay?” Ashe found himself asking.
Both Samuel and Connor cocked their heads to the side in confusion.
Terra spoke up. “They won’t hurt her if that’s what you’re asking, but I wouldn’t trust anyone with those lowlifes.”
Draven threw her a fierce look. “Please refrain, Terra, the last thing we need is a fight between teams. We barely avoided one today.”
“They said they would turn her into a killer!” Ashe cried.
Samuel went back to looking bored and Connor bounced in his chair, more excited, if that was possible.
“No more questions from you. We won’t get anywhere if you keep throwing out any random concern that pops into your head,” Draven paused and looked at his wristwatch. “We don’t have all day to explain everything to you. We need to get you out for ability review training before the end of the night, and I have an important meeting to get to soon.”
And so, Draven began to explain everything. He started with telling Ashe about the forty foot, electric fence that surrounded the town and how anyone who touched it would be fried in seconds. Then, he went on to explain that they all had the same tattoos, but when he pulled down the collar of his shirt, Ashe noticed that his was different. There was something black printed on the shield. Draven pulled his shirt back up before Ashe could figure out what it was.
Ashe began to ask a question, but Draven threw him a warning glance and continued. The next topic was “the counselors” and Ashe moved forward, prepping his mind to absorb every detail. Draven had little factual information on the counselors. Everyone who was sent here had some memories taken from them. Draven said it was the counselors’ work, but no one knew why they erased parts of their memories and why the amount differed from person to person.
Within Camp Hell, there were four individual teams. Ashe couldn’t stop himself, and started to ask a question, but Draven answered before he finished. Yes, Craig was a leader. He led the team called Dragon’s Fury. He explained that Ericka was now a part of his team, so they would have no need to hurt her; they would need her for the upcoming week. Ashe tried to ask about what was to come, but Draven silenced him with a wave of his hand and moved on. Draven’s team, the hodgepodge group of teenagers sitting around Ashe, was called the Black Birds. Ashe was now a member of the Black Birds.
In the middle of all this explanation, Samuel groaned aloud and asked to be excused, because he had heard this talk too many times, and suggested that Ashe probably wouldn’t survive that long anyway.
“Survive against what?” Ashe couldn’t stop asking questions.
“Samuel, it is team policy that all members be present for the first meeting with a new teammate,” Draven’s eyebrows slanted inward as he spoke to Samuel, “so kindly, shut the hell up.”
Samuel’s lips twitched with anger, but he did as he was told.
Draven turned back to Ashe. “Survive against the warbots, but that can be saved until training. Someone else will give you the low down.”
Terra cupped her hands over her lips and leaned close to Ashe to whisper, “Draven doesn’t like being the bearer of the worst news.” There was no point in whispering, everyone around seemed to hear.
“All right Terra, then it is your job to tell him about the warbots later,” Draven said.
“I assumed it was,” Terra responded nonchalantly.
“And the last thing I have to tell you about, the same thing that you will be spending the rest of the night figuring out, is your new ability.” Draven folded his hands and spoke like he was a high school teacher.
“Ability…?” Ashe squinted his eyes to emphasize the ridiculousness of what he had just been told. “Please for the love of God, don’t tell me you are about to say we all have special powers given to us by aliens or fairies, or something.”
“Of course not.” Draven shook his head. Ashe took a relieving breath. “Don’t be stupid. No, the counselors implanted abilities and weaponry into us for fighting before shipping us off to this place.”
Ashe’s face quickly changed from relief to a look of you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me.
“All right, well I’ve had enough of all this moronic crap,” Ashe sighed as he stood up and brushed some lint off his black pants. “Well, you guys can go fight the bad guys with your super powers or whatever, but I think I’m gonna go find this so called electric fence and find a way out of this ridiculous circus.”
Connor looked concerned, all happiness drained from his face. Ashe felt a little guilty that he had insulted everyone around him. He didn’t even know Connor or Samuel, though he didn’t so much care about how Samuel took the remark, but Terra and Draven had defended him, and even if they were crazy people, they were nice enough. They had helped him out of his chains, and Ashe owed them for that, but he couldn’t sit here and listen to all this crap. He had to find Ericka and get the hell out of here.
Draven stood up before Ashe could move around him. Draven slid his chair across the tile floor, not in an angry manner, but like he was simply making more room for Ashe to leave. Ashe stood still and watched him closely. Ashe couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.
Draven walked a little bit from the group until he stopped equidistant between them and the front desk. His eyes fell on the checked tile below him. Draven lifted his fist and slammed it into the tile below his feet. A terrible breaking sound exploded through the room, like the shattering of several ceramic bowls. A cloud of dust billowed from the collision and debris was scattered about the room. Half a tile rocketed toward Terra, but with a simple movement of her head, she avoided it by an inch. She breathed through her nose and scowled at Draven, not seeming very concerned that she had nearly been cracked on the cheek by a flying projectile.
“Dammit, Draven! You could have just lifted the couch with one hand or something less destructive than punching a hole in our floor!” Terra started.
And she was right. Draven had to rip his fist from the indent in the floor he had made. A small crater was laid into the tile. Draven rubbed his fist. Connor was beside himself with laughter.
“Whatever,” Draven replied. “I am already late for my meeting and it was the easiest thing I could think of.” He focused on Ashe, who was now petrified into silence and disbelief. “Like I said, abilities, and tonight we are going to figure out what yours is. Anyway, I gotta go, so Terra, Connor, Samuel, take him to the training grounds. I’ll see you all back here before midnight.” He pivoted on his heel and started down the stairs. He stopped, his eyes just barely visible over the desk, and said, “Oh, and get him some lunch, and dinner too.”
And then he was gone, and so was the feeling in Ashe’s legs. He fell back onto the couch.
“He has…he has…” Ashe couldn’t finish the statement.
“Super strength?” Terra finished for him.
“Yeah…” Ashe was breathing hard like he had just run a marathon.
“And don’t forget the metal plating that runs from his knuckles to his shoulders, hidden just under his skin!” Connor added.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah! He’s a regular superhero,” Terra pressed herself back into the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. She was trying to feign disappointment, but Ashe could see a spark of something else below that, but he couldn’t be sure what it was. A smile split her lips finally and she turned to Ashe, “but if you think he is impressive, just wait until you see what I can do.”
