Welcome to Gaia! ::

Bix's brow had wrinkled just enough to show he'd absorbed what the woman had said. What about an arena??

And then red light.

And then nothing.

The pale man awoke inside his cell and it wasn't even the nicest cage he'd come into contact with. The famine cells were roomier and even the cages they kept for Halloweeners were a bit more sturdy looking. Bix's hood had fallen back leaving his stark white hair in an obvious contrast to the people around them as well as the dark enclosure itself.

"s**t.." Mina was silent and he had a funny bracelet on. He'd been around long enough to make that connection (and even if it wasn't holding her back, he assumed it was). There was none of her amused hissing, not even the feel of protective slithering in his mind. She was totally cut off.

"s**t." He said it again.

HP: 30/30

BUZZZZZZZZZ.

A loud noise rang out, red light flooding the room. The metal-plated door at the far end swung heavily open, a figure making his way inside, heavily armed. "Get up everyone! Up up up!" CLANG CLANG CLANG went the cages as he hit them. "Two new recruits today. Let's see what the lucky numbers are."

Like clockwork, everyone else in the cages suddenly turned to look outside. Outside, towards the arena, where a screen had been lowered, flickering red numbers. Fifteen. Twenty-two.

"Well, that's our lucky numbers for the day." CLICK. Two cages were pushed forward. Anther click. The wall facing the arena was lifted, seamlessly, so that both cages pushed forward joined the main arena. It wasn't Taym or Bix yet, it was just two cages with two random civilians. Both were unfamiliar. One was crying, the other was gripping the side of his cage tightly.

"Ten seconds until showtime!" The guard, if he could be called that, lowered a strange electric device, a long stick, glowing runic blue. He moved towards the crying civilian, number fifteen, there was a loud zap, and then both fifteen and twenty-two were inside the arena. There was cheering outside, loud, by nameless faces.

And then everything happened too fast. The floor of the arena itself opened up, thousands of tendrils of black writhing legs turning into a single shadowy mass with teeth, rows and rows and rows of teeth -

- Screams and then a lot of blood -

- And then the crowd went wild. The red numbers in the center of screen showed a timer. Six seconds. This seemed to last forever as the cages were returned back inside and closed permanently without occupant.

"What a waste," the guard finally commented, "what a ******** waste. Six seconds."

BUZZ.

The door opened again, and he left. There were only eight other cages left with occupants.

Bix's stomach had plummeted to his feet. He was frozen momentarily behind the bars of his cage, even whiter than usual, and gaping. Taym's slightly frantic demand snapped the Sun out of it.

When his brain caught up he shook the bars as hard as he could before looking at the lock, and then up at whatever sort of mechanism they were attached to. He was sure other's in his position had done the same but it didn't stop the reflex.

He waited for anyone to answer Taym because if six seconds was anything to go by, they may not have a lot of time.

"How long have you been here?" His eyes darted to the nearest cage and to whether it's occupant also wore a red bracelet.

The sight of the vacant, staring eyes and the occasional twitch of a hitherto-lifeless limb was an instant door to Taym's past, and the memories were easier to hold onto than the acceptance of what had actually happened to these people.

He lifted his voice as much as he could above the noise, trying again as he sank to a crouch, reaching his hand through the bars of his cage to his stricken neighbor: "Anyone actually conscious, now's your chance. Speak up." He added quietly, to the man next to him, and had no way of knowing if he was speaking to a Hunter or not but tried the quickest route to the heart he could think of, just in case he was: "Can't hear 'em any more?"

The bracelet flared up, and as Bix moved it against the cage, a strong electric jolt rang through his entire body, causing him to unconsciously spasm as he went down on the floor of the cage.

The Hunter Taym was addressing did not respond. In fact, nobody responded. Everyone was too busy trying to break out of their own minds.

The door swung open again, and a pair of footsteps came down, but it wasn't the guard, and it wasn't Mary. It was a short girl with delicate curly hair and long lashes, wearing a prada coat and matching shoes and looked just like the former Moon Hunter assistant. The deceased one.

"Hello, Taym, is it? And Bix?" She smiled because she recognized Bix. "I'll make it quick because you have about five minutes before next round. I can buy your freedom. I'll bring you back to Deus even, but you owe me one small favour in return. How about it?"

She smiled even though she knew the answer from at least one.

How long had it been since Bix had actually felt real pain? When he'd burned to death? Even his last psuedo death hadn't hurt. It had been blackness and then empty cold. Without Mina's possessive shielding the young man crumpled under the shock between the bracelet and the bars. No level of personal fitness could combat his current sensitivity to this level of pain and shock.

Even when it stopped he was crumpled on the floor of his cage, lifting his eyes only to Taym. He'd have to make this decision on his own. This was his mission. Bix could only try his best to gather his faculties and not do that again.

"I'm agreeing to exactly ******** if I don't know what it is, sweetheart" he gambled. "Your little favor could be me putting a bullet in him--" he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the increasingly-catatonic Bix "--or setting fires, or ********. So let me put it in different terms, ones that might appeal to you better: there are things that I just won't do, but there are also things that I can't do, and you asking me to take on a favor without hinting as to its nature is potentially getting yourself into a situation where I can't hold up my end of the bargain, and all after you'd paid your end upfront. So: do you really want to enter a negotiation like that?"

Steadily, without wavering, he added: "My first priority isn't playing a game." This was true, but the next bit was a lie, one that he delivered without the bat of an eyelash, with utterly convincing sincerity, because Taym had played the selfless hero a thousand times over in his fantasies and all the intonations and the lines were at easy hand. No words about loyalty, no words about Deus or serving a higher cause. "It's doing the right thing, and I'm not talking arbitrary loyalties. Tell me what the favor is--please, if that helps."