When I awoke there was a throbbing pain in my head from when the Special Forces smacked me over the head. I tried to move but was chained to a metal chair. My middle finger was still broken, it was really uncomfortable because there were these sort of metal mits on my hands. I sat waiting for whatever the hell the world was going to throw at me next, I didn’t have to wait long. Two men in dark suits with shaved heads and black leather gloves. They unchained me from the chair and out of the solitary room. One of them dragged me along by my jacket through the Psychic Ward, and the other had a pistol to my head. Behind every sanitized door was a psychic waiting to be executed.

But to my surprise they dragged my right by the WWII style gas chamber and into a sort of study. With walls and shelves of  cherry wood, every shelf was filled with books, and once all the shelves were filled there were books piled onto the floor and desks and tables. There was a man sitting at a desk at the back of the room, he had thinning gray hair, and a green plaid suit. The dark suite men released me and left, closing the door behind them.

“Hello, Rasputin,” the man in the green suit began in an indifferent tone. “I have been expecting you.” I am gaping, expecting me? What the hell for?

“U-Uh,” I stammer trying to think, “Why?” The man in green adjusts himself in his chair trying to get comfortable, he exhales deeply.

“Because you are one of twenty psychics chosen to be in a tournament. I was most excited to meet you, because you have killed before. You are the one I will win.”

“M-Me, really? And just what the hell is this tournament?”

“Just a little something to be held for the chancellor’s entertainment. The psychic’s will be his personal gladiators.”

“Rrr! He can’t just toy with people’s lives like that! They may be freaks to him but they’re still human’s!”

The man in plaid puts up a hand as to tell me to calm down. “There is no need to get snippy with me, Rasputin,” he says keeping his cool. “If you win you will not only get your freedom, but you will have enough money to purchase your own continent.”

“Money? Money!? You think you can buy me?! Fuck you!” I turn around for the door.

But the man in plaid stops me, he exhales deeply, clearly angry, and says. “Rasputin, just listen, if you walk out that door the men in suits will kill you. Please, I beg of you, agree.” The man lowers his voice to a whisper. “If you agree I’ll give you something special.”

“What?”

“The use of your powers.”

“What?”

“Originally we were going to have locks on all twenty contestants until the last match. However, if you agree there will be no locks.”

“None?”

“Nadda.”

“Hurm. Alright.”

“Good. Good, Rasputin, we will give you proper living arrangements for the night. Tomorrow you will be taken to a training center to further master your psychic abilities, and meet the other contestants.”

“Hmm. Sounds fun.”

I leave the room and the men in suits walk me to a plain room with gun metal gray walls and a small bed in the far right corner. Groggily, I walk over to the small twin bed and collapse. I drift away to Dream Land anxious to meet the other contestants.

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