Bianca was walking through the woods near the hideout. She couldn't get the image of Aiden lifting her up from the broken cave last week. Emotions she didn't know how to name flooded her mind, only taken to attention when she heard a noise coming from behind a bush.

"Who's there?" she ask-yelled, unsheathing her sword of light.

"Finally, someone." answered a coarse voice, and out emerged a man barely taller than Bianca, dressed only in heavu combat boots, beige trousers, and an otherwise white tank top. He came with a rifle slung on his shoulder, and a first aid kit. Dry blood adorned his dirty self.

"Gosh what happened to you?" She said, putting her sword away, "come, we have food and a washing machine inside."

"Wha'appened to you? You's all sparkly and stuff. Why do you have a sword? You ain't gonna kill a crippled rabbit with a sword... Ahh, wha'ever. You got more hands? I need ta get my troop out'f a pit trap." He stopped to spit out a piece of bark mixed with drool, and started walking past Bianca.

She caught up and started walking alongside the ragged man. "Where are your friends, anyways? We'll have to know how long to travel."

"I'unno. Few days out? This long dark is messin up our internal clocks."

"Yeah. But we'll defeat the night bringers and bring light to the world again!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You's gonna need som'thn' better than a pointy stick for that, here." He unholsted his sidearm and presented the handle to her. "Name's Ivan, by the way."

One by one, a few dozen nervous teenagers walked toward the announcement stage for the SELECTION. The setup resembled a simple blood drive. The atmosphere was made more foreboding however, as cameras and speakers were strewn everywhere for broadcasting, and COMMITTEE soldiers - also known as 'Pacifiers' - stood guard to eliminate the sources of any potential outbursts.

'I'm nervous, Blaze.' The words came from a serious-looking girl whose long dark hair pooled down her shoulders. Her eyes were glued onto the live footage of the stage - even as she was loading her equipment from the back of their truck. 'You're going to follow the plan, right? This is crucial. We can't allow any scewups. Or rogue rebels forgetting instructions.' Her brows furrowed into a worrying expression.

She felt a pair of sturdy hands on her shoulders. A confident looking fiery-haired boy pulled her to face him. His hazel eyes shone with assurance.

'You've got nothing to worry about, Zel. I'll stick to the plan this time.' He grinned. 'Even if it's not really my style. You can count on me.'

'So, all we are doing is destroying the blood coolers right?'

'Almost. We'll spill the blood coolers to stall the selection, but we'll also try to bring awareness to the rebel faction by announcing who we are on the cameras. Hunter and Petra and the others will use the smoke bombs we got to distract the Pacifiers in the meantime. We'll wait for their signal to move from here. We don't have the manpower or influence to rescue all the participants yet, but hopefully we can make some waves with this.'

'Woah, I'm going to be on TV?' Blaze laughed. Zella rolled her eyes but couldn't restrain a faint smile.

The truck suddenly screeched to a stop. They heard footsteps from their fellow rebels head towards the stage. Clicks sounded and some smoke wafted into the back of the truck. Then...gunshots. And screaming. What was happening?

Zella pulled open the truck gate. 'Wait - what about the signal -?' Blaze grabbed her but she slipped from his grasp. 'Forget the signal! That was Petra's voice!' Zella ran. 'Petra? Petra?!'

In front of her onstage, was Petra, passed out and being taken away by people in tattered clothes. 'Take Zella to the back!' One shouted. The voice sounded older. Somehow he knew her name.

'How d- No. Get your hands off her!' Zella shouted. She charged towards the assailers but several appear behind her and restrain her. She feels a heavy blow to the back of her head and sees black.

The first sight that greeted her was a haggard looking woman sitting feet-crossed from her. Behind her were cameras - that showed the Zella and her friends at their underground base, Zella at her selection, a pristine and empty white room filled with computers, young Zella before her selection in her house with her family. Zella then noticed her arms and wrists were bound and her mouth had been covered in tape.

'Sorry about that back there. Your friends are safe. And we will untie you - but only if you listen to us.'

Zella nodded.

The woman leaned towards her. Her expression was solemn. 'This might be hard to hear, but please believe me. You are fighting for nothing. The 'COMMITTEE' doesn't exist. The 'SELECTION' doesn't exist. You were being recorded this whole time -' She gestured to the cameras behind her. 'Your family was in on it. They were actors. All your families were actors.'

The woman dug in the pocket of her dust-covered jeans. She held something small in front of Zella. It was a plastic rendition of her in a defiant pose, with a small placard toward the bottom. 'Zella - Rebel leader against the Purity castes. Licensed by Seek TV.'

'That's you. A figurine of you. You're on t-shirts too. There's some of you and Blaze together too. You've been surveilled for entertainment. We've interrupted your big rescue mission, to rescue you. Your resistance plan was supposed to be a season finale, and it was all rigged for your rebel faction to win at the end.'

'In the real world, some of us found it inhumane that you kids' lives were completely fabricated. It was clearly unethical. The real world -our world - is rampant with war and poverty. We've been fighting for so long now, no one can be sure which sides were good or bad. That's why your program was invented. That's why parents enrolled kids like you to live a life with simpler conditions, as they saw it. There have been kids pulled from the program - most have committed suicide now because they didn't know what to expect coming into the real world and couldn't face that they were always lied to. Stopping your program was only the beginning. We want to put an end to the rest of these programs.'

The woman peeled back Zella's tape.

'Now the question is, will you join us?'

I’m in deep shit now. I’ve been running from the authorities for a week straight and I’m still not safe. So for context on why, I’ll explain. My family started a rebellion years and years ago, that spread everywhere. Now everyone thinks the government is full of shit. (Which is true.) There is one disagreement in the community of rebels. There are 2 groups of rebels. One is a group of annoying goody-two-shoes that believe in “fate” and other bullshit. The other group is a group of “old fashioned pessimists.” I think that’s bullshit. We’re just practical! (I think you can guess which group I’m in by now.) Anyway, back to the present. I may or may not have blew up a building as my form of rebellion… So now I’m in Who-knows-where-land, lying on the ground. Lying on the ground? Just now, I realized that I shouldn’t be lying on the ground. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I was horrified as I realized there was blood all over. Shit, I must’ve been shot on my way out! I would’ve called for help, except I’m in Who-knows-where-land, and one wrong move and I’ll be caught and hanged. I looked around and spotted a boy who looked around my age. He was quite handsome, with curly golden hair and bright, violet eyes. So bright, I noticed with a dizzy fascination. I thought he noticed me, and I was right. “Oh my god, are you okay?!” he exclaimed. It should be pretty obvious, as there was blood all over. “Does it look like I’m o-“ a sharp pain in my head prevented me from saying anything. I noticed his uniform. The goody-two-shoes uniform. “H-hang in there! I’ll get help! I-I have a first aid kit on me!” he stuttered. He stuttered so much I could barely tell what he was saying. I managed to say “You’re a rebel too?” he took a look at my uniform and said “You’re in the other group! Well…still a rebel. Where did you come from?” I know it was an impulsive decision, but I ended up telling him everything about my failed mission down to the fact I’m a defendant of the original rebels while he bandages my wounds. He nodded and said “Until you find the rest of your group…partners? I’m Noah!” Even though I wasn’t thinking straight, I did think enough to say “We don’t do “partners.” And we DON’T tell strangers our names.” But the disappointed look on his face was enough to change my mind. “Opal.” His response was “Like the gem?” That was the last thing I heard before the world went dark. Later, I woke up in a soft but unfamiliar bed, where I noticed a familiar but unfamiliar face sitting next to me. “I guess fate chose us to be together. Welcome back to the land of the living, partner!” he said. I came back to my senses, shocked at this unfamiliar setting. “Who are you, and where am I?!”

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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