The Gang.

"Hey, hey! Wake up! Are you okay?"

My eyes snap open as I gasp for breath, my chest still tight with the remnants of a nightmare. The cell is dark, the light has dimmed, signifying our dedicated sleeping time.

I blink a few times, trying to get rid of the blur in my vision.

A dark figure stands beside my bunk, tall and large. I try to make out who it is, yet i'm still struggling to make sense of the sudden shift from nightmare to reality. I was really awake right?

"Yo, you alright?" the figure asks again, placing his hand on my shoulder. His grip is firm, yet awkward, almost as if he's unsure of what to do.

"What...?" I mumble, pulling the blanket over me, the remnants of the nightmare now fading from my memory.

I cant help but release a sigh, finding that the comfort of the blanket does nothing to stop the feeling that the nightmare has left me with.

"You just started shaking and screaming, what happened?" John asks, looking at me with those sympathetic eyes.

"Man, what are you talking about?" I ask, scoffing. At the time, I tried to pretend like he was the crazy one. Like he was the one who was seeing and hearing things. Yet deep down, I knew it was me.

John looks at me with a mix of confusion and concern. I hated it. 

What was he talking about? Was I not just sleeping?

I swallow hard, my throat dry as I stare back in confusion.

"Do you not remember or something? You were screaming. Like full on tweaking out," He says, his voice soft yet unsure.

I sit up, calming my breathing. Was I really doing all that? No way. He must be exaggerating right? I try to remember my nightmare, yet it has already disappeared from my memory. 

"My bad, I think I had a pretty bad nightmare or something." I tell him, trying my best not to sound crazy.

"All right, as long as you're okay..." he says cautiously, continuing to stare at me with those damned, empathetic eyes.

I think it's been a few weeks since the first trial, yet I still cant get their faces out of my head. Ive been seeing them in all my dreams, or should I say nightmares? It's like they chose to haunt me after death.

How can John sleep so soundly after what he's done? How many people has he killed? How is he so used to it? Hell, I didn't even kill them, yet look at me. He must think that i'm so strange.

The dim lights brighten, signifying that it's time to wake up. 

Life as a prisoner low key sucked. Not cause I was suffering, but because I was so bored. 

I hear the footsteps outside of our door, the guards tuff armor clanging against the metal floors. 

It opens and one of them step inside. 

"Get up, it's time for breakfast." He says, his baton in hand, ready to beat us for any sort of insubordination. 

I rub the scars on bruises on my face, remembering the feeling of pain. I shiver a bit before following the guards orders. 

John and I are once again led down a familiar hallway. It was the one I used to get out of the suspicious docking bay when I first arrived here. Piping, and wiring was still exposed while the lights still flickered. 

I am led to the large cafeteria doors, and forced to enter. 

Inside is crowded. Various prisoners sit among each other, conversing and eating. The room is completely white with gray metal chairs and tables.

Guards roam around the large, crowded cafeteria, patrolling and making sure that nothing was awry.

In the corner of the large room was the kitchen, where the food was made and served. John sighed, walking toward it. 

His job today was kitchen duty.

I watched as he walked behind the counter, putting on his gloves, and began stirring some goop. Honestly, the food here was disgusting. Why couldn't they make anything better? Honestly it should be a war crime to feed someone something so disgusting.

"Achilles, come here, we have some info." A voice beckons.

I look over, only to see a small group of people congregated around a table.

The prisoners have divided themselves into many small groups for protection. 

It was quite common for a brawl to breakout, in fact, it happened during almost every meal. It wasn't uncommon for some prisoners to die, either from other prisoners, or the guards retaliation. 

Seeing that I had no group to join, John introduced me to some of his buddies from the army. It seemed like many of his friends were also taken prisoner and had formed their own sort of prison gang. 

I walk toward the group, curious as to what information they've obtained.

It was a small group, only about six people if you include me and John.

There was Big Ish, a large, fat, and viscous man. He was like the head of our little gang. Surprisingly, he had many connections and had even become chummy with a few of the guards. He must've been decently good in combat, or else he wouldn't have even gotten past the first round, yet i've never seen him fight himself.

Next to him sat James, a tall, and built man. He was kind of like our enforcer. If Big Ish ordered for something to be done, he would be the one to ensure that the task has been completed.

Across from James sat Oliver, an almost completely normal man with insane intelligence. Before being taken prisoner, he was an engineer, specializing in aircrafts and ships for the Republic. If I needed some advice, inspiration, or contraption built, i'd go to him.

Next to Oliver was Jenny. I don't know much about her, but she's extremely cunning and manipulative. She was the one who helped Oliver get through the first round. I dont know much about her, nor do I think I want to. From what I know, she was a shady slum rat and was introduced to the gang by Oliver. 

I really couldn't trust her, nor any of these people. They are all natural enemies of the Aeperium's elite od which i'm a part of. I quickly realized that being involved with them meant that I had to hide the marks I once showed with dignity and confidence. 

If any of them found out, they'd probably kill me, John included.

"Whats up?" I ask, taking a seat.

"I heard a few of the guards talking, apparently the second trial is tonight!" Big Ish says in a hushed voice.

"What's it about?" I ask curiously.

"They are going to be putting us in some sort of virtual reality machine!" Oliver says excitedly.

"Keep it down!" Big Ish roars.

"But yes, apparently, we will be put into some sort of virtual reality machine but I don't know much else. When breakfast is over and we are led toward our daily jobs, head toward the laundry area. We can talk more there." he says, taking another bite of his stale bread.

You'd think that we'd be restricted to our cells, but we weren't. During the day, we were assigned jobs and duties that would need to be completed. I wasn't treated as some sort of gladiator like I thought I would, but as an actual prisoner.

I give him a brief nod before heading toward the kitchen counter.

Virtual Reality? What sort of trial is Commodus planning to have us go through now?