4 Hours Later

May 3, 2069

0600 CDT

Underneath El Coliseo, Scorpia

Sonya Grey's Point of View

Everything hurts.

“We leave tonight,” Charlotte quietly whispers as she finishes her cigarette and gazes outside our prison cell. Charlotte Renee De Sylvet, the best sniper in the kingdom. fifteen-years old, Afro-Latina, curly and long black hair, grey headband, tan tank top, and a black skirt.

“The Olympians will shoot us on sight,” I say. “We’ve been branded like animals, Charlotte.”

“An accurate assumption as always, Sonya, however staying here is unwise,” she explains as she walks towards our locked prison bars, lighting up another cigarette. “I wish to be happy, and I cannot achieve that by staying here. I’m willing to risk everything to achieve freedom, et toi (and you)?”

“I’ll be free after I slice Andres’s fucking head off! He gave us assault rifles for the holidays, Charlotte! How can you not hate him?!”

“Andres is a monster; however, you do not have to be bound by revenge,” she explains as she leans against the prison bars and gazes outside our cell. “We do not have to be tied by our past and can choose to live life; however, we wish. I don’t want to be Charlotte Renee De Sylvet, le tireur d’élite à sang froid (the cold-blooded sniper), of Scorpius. I only wish to be Charlotte.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“My dead boyfriend, dead teacher, and bruised ribs brought me back to reality. Wishes don’t come true, Charlotte. You’re just as fucked up as me, and you can’t run away from who you are. That’s why we need to stay here and kill Andres!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself or me, Sonya?”

“Wh-what? I know what I’m talking about.”

“There are healthier ways to express yourself, and you know that,” she explains as she makes her way towards her stupid flute. “You have a beautiful singing voice, and I wish to hear it one more time while I still can.”

“I don’t wanna fucking sing, Charlotte! We’re Black Scorpions! Nobody gives a fuck about our talents! Look at our tattoos! This is how we let the world know that we’re murderers who won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in our fucking way!”

“Oh,” she says with a dejected look on her face as she puts down her flute. “A shame,” she continues as she makes her way back towards the bars. “I love you, Sonya. You and Sierra mean the world to me.”

“Shut the fuck up. What are you gonna do if you get killed?”

“Eat,” she chuckles with an amused look in her eyes. “But I would wish to be put down immediately. Violence saddens me,” she says as she flicks her cigarette outside.

“What if you die and don’t come back?”

“I would be free, and then I’ll be happy,” she explains as she lights up another cigarette. “Although I wish to visit Paris and perform a concert with you before that happens.”

“What would you do if Andres killed Cici or me?”

“I would kill him.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite!”

“Perhaps, but I am only human. I come with many flaws and imperfections; however, these shortcomings are the source of my creation, and I am comfortable with knowing who I am. I don’t know if there is any purpose to our lives, but I wish to live it as best I can, before my imminent extinction.”

“You’d stop smoking those if that was true. They’re bad for you, Charlotte.”

“I see,” she contemplates with a deep exhale. “Perhaps you’re right,” she accepts as she tosses her last cigarette outside.

“Girls,” Nikki whispers as she appears by the cell. “It’s time,” she reveals with a mixture of sadness and determination on her face.