The guards didn't give them time to grieve.
"Move," one barked, rifle angled toward the crowd. Another clapped his hands like they were cattle being herded. The kids shuffled forward in tight clumps, heads down, the polished marble already scrubbed clean of the blood.
The marble had already been scrubbed clean, but the memory of the gunshot clung to them.
Lucia walked shoulder to shoulder with Aaron, jaw locked. The shot still rang in her ears, but no one dared whisper about it. Fear was louder than words.
They were led through wide hallways lined with screens massive black rectangles glowing faintly blue. At first Lucia thought they were mirrors until she noticed the subtle flicker, like someone else was on the other side, watching. She caught herself glaring at one, daring it to blink.
Aaron tugged her sleeve. "Don't," he murmured. "They want reactions."
The finally moved them into a cavernous room with rows of elevators. Above each door, digital numbers blinked like countdowns.
"Accommodation," a mechanical voice announced over unseen speakers. "Five per room. Random allocation. Three days of adjustment. Obey curfew. Disobedience" A pause, soft and cold. "will be met with correction."
Watches were handed out sleek, silver bands that locked instantly around each wrist with a quiet click. Lucia flexed her hand, scowling at the thin glow that pulsed across the surface like a heartbeat.
Across the hall, another kid panicked, clawing at his band. "It won't come off!" he shouted. He tugged harder until the edge cut into his skin. The guards didn't move.
The elevator doors slid open in sequence, swallowing groups of five. Lucia found herself shoved between strangers Aaron pressed on one side, but on the other a tall, broad-shouldered boy with tattooed forearms loomed. He smelled faintly of smoke and iron. Valerio, though she didn't know his name yet.
The fifth was a wiry girl with sun-bleached hair and sharp, appraising eyes. Cheryl.
Nobody spoke as the elevator hummed upward. Only the soft hum of the watches filled the silence.
When the doors slid open, a new hallway stretched before them sleek walls, numbered doors, the sterile smell of bleach mixed with faint perfume. The guards didn't bother following.
Their assigned room was bigger than expected: five narrow beds, a shared desk, a wall screen pulsing faint blue. No windows. Just recycled air and the faint vibration of machinery somewhere deep in the ship's bones.
Lucia dropped onto the nearest bed, arms crossed, staring at the screen as it flickered to life. For a split second she swore she saw static, shapes moving in the blur, like a camera adjusting focus. Then it went blank again.
Aaron sat on the bed beside hers, adjusting his glasses. His voice was low enough that only she could hear. "We're in a cage."
Lucia smirked without humor. "A shiny cage."
Across the room, the tattooed boy finally spoke, his voice a deep, mocking drawl. "Welcome to paradise, huh?"
Nobody laughed.
The hallway outside the elevators became a storm of voices the second the guards vanished.
"Yo, what the hell is this place?" someone shouted.
"I'm not staying here-" another kid tried bolting back toward the lifts, only to find the doors sealed. He hammered his fists against the metal. "Open up! You can't just-"
The silver band on his wrist lit up red. A crackle of electricity dropped him to the floor, convulsing. The crowd froze as the faint smell of burnt fabric filled the air.
The boy lay groaning, clutching his arm. The message was clear enough.
Whispers spread in waves.
"They're tracking us."
"The bands shock you like dogs."
"Shut up, shut up, they'll hear."
Someone shoved past, starting a fight just to mask his panic. Two boys swung at each other, fists wild, until another's watch glowed red and both dropped to their knees, gasping in pain. Screams and curses echoed down the hall.
Lucia stood stiff in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, smirk stretched tight. Inside, her heart pounded. She hated how easily they all folded.
"Idiots," she muttered. "They're playing us before the game even starts."
Aaron gave her a sidelong look. "Better to watch than to be the example."
Inside the room:
The five beds looked too neat, too perfect, like a hotel someone designed from memory rather than reality. The tension followed them in, thick as smoke.
Valerio claimed the corner bed without asking, stretching his long frame across it. He didn't even bother removing his boots, tattoos shifting across his forearms when he folded his arms behind his head. "So," he drawled, eyes flicking over the others, "roommates. Try not to snore."
Lucia arched a brow. "Big words for a guy who smells like an ashtray."
He smirked, unfazed. "Better an ashtray than scared shitless."
The blonde girl, Cheryl, sat delicately on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, eyes glittering like she was cataloguing everyone in the room. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, voice sharp. "You two gonna flirt already, or should we set rules first?"
Lucia barked a laugh. "Rules? In this place? Cute."
Aaron, who'd quietly staked the bed nearest Lucia's, rubbed the bridge of his glasses. "She's right. Rules will matter. Not ours theirs." He tapped his watch. "We can't test it again."
"Speak for yourself, nerd," Valerio muttered, though his gaze lingered on the faint scorch mark left on the boy in the hall.
The fifth, a wiry kid with freckles and nervous eyes, finally spoke up, voice cracking. "What if we can't leave?"
Silence fell for a beat. Then Cheryl smiled too sharp to be comforting. "Sweetheart, we're not leaving. Didn't you hear the gunshot downstairs?"
The freckled boy went pale.
Lucia swung her legs onto the bed, resting back against the wall, smirk curling. "Relax, kid. If this is a game, we'll figure out how to play it. That's all that matters."
Valerio's eyes gleamed. "And how to win."
Aaron muttered under his breath, "If winning's even possible."
Lucia swung her legs onto the bed, resting back against the wall, a smirk curling across her face.
"Relax, kid. If this is a game, we'll figure out how to play it. That's all that matters."
Valerio's eyes gleamed in the dim light. "And how to win."
Aaron muttered under his breath, "If winning's even possible."
For a beat, silence settled like dust. The overhead bulbs flickered, buzzing faintly. Then someone at the far end of the dorm kicked the metal frame of his bunk. The hollow clang echoed through the chamber.
"This is bullshit!" a tall boy with braids barked. He shoved past a smaller kid and stalked toward the locked steel door. "You can't just lock us in like animals!"
The freckled boy flinched at his voice. Cheryl tilted her head, watching with idle amusement as the boy pounded on the door with both fists. The others stared, tension spreading like static.
"HEY! OPEN UP!" His shout ricocheted across the walls. "You can't keep us here! You hear me?"
The cameras above whirred, adjusting their angles with a mechanical hum. Red dots blinked in the corners, faint but unmistakable. A warning, silent but sharp.
On the top bunk across the room, a broad-shouldered boy with a buzz cut finally shifted. He had been silent until now, leaning back against the wall with arms folded across his chest. His gaze tracked the outburst with the kind of detached focus a predator gives prey.
"Guy's gonna get himself killed," he muttered, voice low but carrying enough to make a few heads turn.
Lucia clocked him for the first time, sizing up the muscular frame and the sharp edges of his jaw. Rome. He looked like he'd been built for fights, but his calm tone carried more certainty than bravado.
The braided boy spun around, eyes blazing. "Killed? What the hell are you talking about? We're just kids. They can't-"
A crackle answered him. Not from the crowd, but from the speakers hidden in the ceiling. A calm, synthetic voice rolled out, smooth as ice.
"Return to your bunk."
The braided boy froze, chest heaving. "What if I don't?"
A beat.
"Return to your bunk."
The crowd stirred, whispers rising like a tide. Someone stifled a nervous laugh. Another sobbed into their blanket.
Lucia leaned forward, her smirk sharpening. "Guess they don't like being told no."
The boy cursed under his breath and kicked the door one last time. The sound reverberated through the room then, just as suddenly, died.
A hiss. A dart shot from somewhere in the ceiling, burying itself in the boy's neck. He yelped, clawing at it, then dropped to his knees, he collapsed anyway, shaking from the shock The others gasped as he convulsed, his body jerking, before going limp on the cold concrete.
A pause. The voice again, unbothered, chilling in its monotony.
"Return. To your bunks."
This time, no one argued. The crowd shuffled back, heads ducked low, eyes avoiding the cameras. Even the whispers thinned into silence.
Aaron's hands were white-knuckled around his glasses. "So… yeah," he muttered softly. "Definitely possible to die here."
Lucia stretched her arms behind her head, hiding her quickened pulse with a lazy grin. "Good. Makes it interesting."
The red camera lights blinked once more, like eyes narrowing in satisfaction, then dimmed back into their steady glow.
No one moved for a long moment. The boy's body still lay sprawled across the concrete, eyes glassy, his chest unmoving. A wet sound gurgled in his throat before it stopped altogether.
Someone near the bunks broke. A choked sob escaped, then spread another voice, then another, until the room was filled with quiet crying, muffled into sleeves and pillows.
"Shut up," Valerio snapped, though his voice wasn't as steady as he wanted it to be. He dragged a hand down his face, flexing his tattooed arm as though bracing himself.
On the opposite side of the room, a group of three huddled together, whispering fiercely in a language most of the others didn't understand. Their eyes darted between the cameras and the corpse, like they were calculating odds.
Aaron sat rigid, green eyes locked on the red blinking light above. He didn't blink until Lucia nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"Don't break your glasses staring at it," she muttered.
He didn't answer.
Rome slid down from his bunk, landing with a quiet thud. His shadow stretched across the floor as he crouched, inspecting the boy's body from a distance. "Not even five minutes in, and they've already made an example," he said flatly. His voice carried, but not loudly. Just enough for everyone to hear.
"Fuck," someone whispered from the corner. "We're dead. All of us."
"No," Cheryl's voice cut sharp through the gloom. She sat with one knee drawn up, her hair falling forward, her lips curved in the faintest smirk. "We're alive. He's dead. Learn the difference."
Her words silenced the room, though unease churned just beneath the surface.
The cameras hummed once more, tilting downward, and then like nothing had happened the lights dimmed slightly, signaling lights-out. The body remained where it had fallen.
Lucia lay back on the thin mattress, arms folded beneath her head. The smirk was gone now, her expression unreadable in the shadows. Around her, the whispers never fully stopped: prayers whispered under breath, someone muttering numbers, the sound of teeth chattering, a muffled curse into a pillow.
Nobody slept well that night.