Atreo jolted awake. There was no gentle transition; he shot up so quickly that he nearly hit his head on the metal bars of the cage. Pain throbbed through his body, spreading to every inch. He breathed in deeply, glad he was still alive, and his nostrils filled with a foul odor that clung to him, clogging his nose and making his eyes water.
He let the emotionless tears fall, hoping to clean his eyes, and caught a glimpse of black and white hair matted together, lying in the twin cage beside him. His face fell; regret and disappointment danced together in a tragic duet, until he noticed the subtle rise and fall of her chest, signaling that she was still alive.
He had been helpless against the dirty, disgusting excuse for a man. If he could even call him that. He was an animal, and if Atreo ever escaped, he’d show him what they did to savage beasts on Earth. Lost in thought, Atreo opened his inventory. Still at level 1, his stats remained the same. His inventory was empty, and he sighed in resignation.
“Fuck this place.”
Stripped of his possessions, Atreo realized he was left with only the tattered clothes on his back. As he watched his reflection displayed on the character screen, he mentally kicked himself when he remembered he’d worn his "FAMINE" hoodie today. “That was supposed to be symbolic,” he thought, “not realistic.” The irony settled distastefully within him, driving his hunger further into his empty, aching stomach.
“Don’t be a wimp,” he thought to himself.
“It has been like what... two days? Maybe three?”
"What did Coach Mashburn used to say? ‘Pain is just weakness leaving the body.’ He’d always have some motivational quote ready, like a dad joke but less funny and more annoying. Atreo couldn’t help but think, 'I wonder if Coach ever came close to starving to death.’ He’d probably say something like, 'Starvation is just the body finding strength you never knew you had.' Stupid, but it made him chuckle darkly in his dire situation."
Atreo grabbed the bars that confined him and gave them a strong shake. There was no give. The grime covering his hands left black handprints along the frame, a constant reminder of the similar grime that man wore like a dark coat.
He’d tried wiping them off but had only managed to spread the filth around further, which equally spread the feeling that he was helpless. He’d been violated, in a disgusting demeaning way, stripped of his possessions, beaten and pissed on, and he could do nothing.
That wasn’t entirely true. “I can escape”, he thought. He just hadn’t quite figured out how yet. As he lay in his own pain and misery, contemplating where he’d gone wrong with life’s many choices, he caught some movement out of the corner of his good eye.
He noticed a small shape leaving one of the rickety houses across the clearing from where they were being held. It wasn’t as tall as the man who’d paid them a visit the night before, but it was human. That, Atreo knew for sure. As the shape got closer, he could make out features.
The figure was almost feminine, but not quite. "It was a young boy, likely no older than ten, who had brown hair and stains all down his shirt. The boy looked nervous, casting quick glances over his shoulder, suggesting he was sneaking away from someone. Atreo couldn’t tell if the stains were juice stains or bloodstains. He hoped for the former. He’d come from the same direction as the slug man. “His kid, maybe?” he hoped not. As the boy neared, he began to kick rocks, a playful cadence forming in his step. He stopped a few feet away from the cage and squatted turning his head to get a good look at the new caged human, which caused Atreo to visibly tense. The boy smiled at Atreo, but not a sweet smile—a smile like he’d just gotten an idea, and Atreo wasn’t going to like the outcome.
The boy stood up again abruptly, causing Atreo to nearly lose his shit. He’d seen Chucky, and he really wasn’t in the best state of mind right now. The boy turned away, though, without a word, and began to hum a "ladedadeda," skipping over to a large tree that stood looming over the wall behind them. Whether by wind or age, some of its thick, strong branches had come loose and fallen to the ground nearby. As he made his way to the focus of attention, Atreo noticed he was chewing on something, and his stomach let out an audible groan.
A kernel of hope filled him, and he leaned forward, a question on his lips. This was a boy, not some crazy killer doll.
“What’s your name?” he asked, Atreo’s voice cracked slightly under the stress. He coughed, and specks of blood covered his hand. The boy gave no reply, only raised his stick and turned it to and fro.
He’d chosen a long one. Not a thick one like you’d use for sword fighting, but one you’d use to poke a beehive or roadkill you’d found on the side of the road. Is that what I am to him? He held out, the kernel of hope still warming his core. He asked again, “Hey buddy, what’s your name?” There was no reply. Atreo tried to clean his face but smeared more grime into his eyes, causing them to sting anew. The boy returned to his outpost in front of their cages and stood like many soldiers Atreo had seen in movies. Attention, maybe? He thought that’s what they called it. The boy’s youthful eyes watched him, his presence more adult-like than it had been before.
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“Do something,” the boy demanded, tapping his stick against the metal. The sound echoed off the solid brick wall behind him. The kid smacked the bars again, louder this time, and jabbed Atreo with the stick, trying to kebab him.
“Hey, hey, chill, dude,” Atreo responded, causing the boy to sneer.
“Make me laugh, DUDE,” the boy mimicked, giggling to himself and blowing a raspberry.
Atreo had reached his breaking point. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes. As the boy aimed to prod him again, a surge of adrenaline-fueled power shot through Atreo and he grabbed the stick fiercely, pulling the boy against the cage. His anger surged, and he wanted so badly to slam the kid’s face against the bars like the man had done to Kore. He felt a primal rage, but then a glimmer of rationality broke through. This kid was just a product of his environment, not the true enemy. With a deep breath, Atreo loosened his grip but didn't let go.
“Listen here, you little shit,” he growled, gripping the boy tightly. “You’re gonna tell me your name now.”
“C-C-CJ,” the boy stammered, trying to break free.
“Okay, CJ,” Atreo continued, “I want everything in your pockets, or I’m pulling you through these bars to stay in here with me. How does that sound?”
Frantically, the boy started emptying his pockets, dropping items onto the ground.
“Hey, hey, hey, in my hand!” Atreo demanded.
"The boy hesitated before handing over a chunk of bread, some bone coins, and a square wooden object with an image on the front.
“These are all I have,” CJ said, his eyes wide with fear. “The bread’s from dinner, the coins I found, and the card...I don’t know, it was just lying around.'"
“You wouldn’t lie to me now, would you? Considering we’re so close?” Atreo pressed, willing his stench to flow into the boy’s nostrils.
“I can get you food!” CJ blurted out, turning blue in the face. This immediately sent hunger pangs through Atreo's body. Though skeptical that the boy would return if released, Atreo wasn’t about to flat-out kill this boy. Period.
“Alright,” Atreo said, releasing his grip. “But you better come back.”
“I will, I will,” CJ promised, dashing off in the direction he came from.
As Atreo's adrenaline subsided, he sat back against the metal bars, shifting to find a comfortable spot in the metal cage built for discomfort. He hadn’t liked the person he was a moment ago. That wasn’t who his mother had raised him to be. As he sat alone except for the husk of a woman lying next to him, he inspected the items CJ had handed over.
He picked up the bread and raised it halfway to his lips. His instincts had almost gotten the better of him. The grainy bread crumbled beneath his fingers, and he hesitated, glancing over at Kore. Everything that could have gone wrong so far had gone wrong. Since the moment he’d gotten here, he’d been fighting for his life. The only kind person he’d met had been Kore, and he wasn’t going to leave her hanging by a thread. He’d likely be dead without her.
There wasn’t enough bread for two, but there wasn’t much to deliberate on. He slid his arm as far as he could towards Kore’s cage, pushing his shoulder deep into the metal bars that separated them.
He stretched far, reaching for her torn fabric. He didn’t get her at first, but After several painstaking tries, he managed to grab a handful of her torn clothes. His body screamed in protest with each movement, but he pushed through the pain.
“Kore, it's not much, but I have some bread,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. Getting her as close as he could, he gently tried to nudge her awake. She stirred a little. Not much, but just enough to let Atreo know that she could hear him.
Kore was in a bad way. Dried blood matted her hair, sticking it together in clumps, and her features had become unrecognizable. If Atreo had thought he’d had it bad, she was way worse. He’d expected her to be dead after last night’s festivities, but here she lay, still hanging on. She was exceptional, to say the least.
“Try and open your mouth,” Atreo said, leaning closer to help feed her the bread.
She made no attempt to move, only cracking open one of her eyes just enough to watch Atreo. Her hand trembled as it rose, like a fighter attempting to raise his arms after a thousand blows. It beckoned to him. No, that’s not right. Her arm was open for the bread as if saying, “Hand it to me.”
Her statement was clear. She did not want him to feed her; she wanted it in her hand to feed herself.
“Ok then,” he said as he handed it to her. “Let me know if you need any help.”
Atreo sat silently and observed as Kore slowly placed the bread between her cracked lips, covering it with drops of crimson blood. After a moment, she began to chew, which signaled to Atreo that he was good to go about his business. Not that either of them truly had privacy at this point. They’d shared in a ritual of abuse, a trial of fire, and come out on the other side, broken but alive.
Atreo inspected the other items he’d gotten from CJ. His fingers traced the wooden object he’d obtained from CJ.
It was thin and flexible but sturdy, about the size of a palm. He handled it with the tips of his fingers, conscious of how dirty he was, and managed to flip it over with only a small amount of grime covering it. He used one of the few clean spots on his hoodie he could find and wiped it off as best as he could.
Upon looking at the front, he noticed that it was a playing card for a game he didn’t understand. The title of the card was Goblin Heckler, and it showed a small green humanoid-looking imp with pointy ears standing cliffside while he lobbed feces and rocks down on passersby. It had one light gold star adorning the top, and there was a quote in the center: “I got your treasure right here!” followed by cackling laughter. He smiled a bit at that, finding a small bit of solace in a world surrounded by death.
He moved on to the bone coins and noted their peculiarity. The coins were nickel-sized and were made up of a bunch of tiny bones melded together and probably glued. The outside of the coin had what looked like a very thin strip of leather or fabric perfectly placed to border the coin.