IX

  Reese leads her into the kitchen, a cavernous space nearly as expansive as the sleek, minimalist dining hall available to contestants—but far more crowded. Stainless steel surfaces gleam under the dim glow of the emergency lights. At the back, industrial ovens murmur softly. The whole place reeks of cleaning solutions mixed with a hint of metal.

  Reaching into the fridge, Reese extracts a carton of milk and pours it into two plastic glasses—the same ones they usually use for their meals. “Cheers,” he says, extending his glass over her. Rebecca hesitates, then clinks her glass against his.

  “If we ever need to meet urgently in this kitchen, we’ll use ‘cheers’ as our secret code. Or ‘milk’,” he adds with a playful grin.

  “Cheers is fine,” Rebecca replies, suppressing the amusement in her tone.

  They slip out through the back door into another corridor, where only elevators and the emergency stairs stand. The stairs lead down into an L-shaped basement, a labyrinth of dark tunnels and service shafts, which covers only a fraction of the space above, perhaps one-fifth of the floor. Rebecca can hardly breath with the musty odor of damp concrete and stale electricity, and the constant drip of water sets an unsettling rhythm. Here, amidst stacks of discarded furniture and forgotten equipment, the perfection of the Live facade crumbles, exposing the raw, unpolished underbelly of the show.

  “There’s gotta be a way out through here,” Reese murmurs, his voice in rhythmic consonance with the steady drip.

  “There are probably many stories hidden beneath us—you can tell from the balcony that we’re on the top floor.” Rebecca replies.

  Reese turns to her, his face lighting up with happy surprise. “So you’re really considering it? You’re seriously thinking about sabotaging the show?” Rebecca hesitates, unsure of what to say, then finally she asks, “Aren’t you?”

  “I am now,” he admits.

  Together, they approach the only remaining door in the basement—a door that should grant access to the continuation of the emergency stairs—but it is locked. Unlike the rest of the abandoned basement, this door is shiny and forged from thick steel, equipped with a face scanner and numeric pad, much like the one under the big screen in the common room. They pause to contemplate the door, both keenly aware of its imposing security and frustrated that it blocks what seems to be their only possible escape route.

  “What other rooms are there?” Rebecca asks.

  “Let’s find out.”

  Navigating through the kitchen, they reach the storage room—a vast warehouse stuffed with bizarre items: crates of costumes, broken sets, and props from past seasons. As Rebecca wanders among the boxes, she spots another door, but it, too, is locked and heavily secured. “Hey, Reese,” she calls, “what’s on the other side of this wall?”

  Reese glances around and replies, “The common room. But there must be a hallway in between, because right in front of us is the door that connects to the arena.”

  “So this door also leads to the arena,” Rebecca observes, goosebumps prickling the back of her neck. Reese lingers on her for a moment before grabbing her hand and pulling her back into the kitchen, guiding her toward the stairs. “Let’s see if we can get to the roof.”

  Going up, the stairs end abruptly at another threshold—this one is not made of steel and, astonishingly, is open. Rebecca struggles to grasp the reality of it.

  On the rooftop, the wind whips around them—frigid like on her balcony, yet infinitely more liberating. Below her toes, a tangled web of light and void stretches—breathing, shifting, alive. A million lives unfolding at once, in a muted symphony of noise. From this height, the towering structure of Live seems to diminish, to transform into just another building among many—its massive influence and high-tech security, nothing more than a fragile illusion compared to the vast night. Rebecca shivers, not entirely from the cold; Reese’s hand, warm and steady, grips hers tightly.

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

  “Well, if everything goes to shit… this is our last escape,” he says.

  Rebecca’s breath catches. She doesn’t pull away—she won’t, not now, but she goes rigid instantly. He pulls her closer, wrapping her in a hug that feels both protective and oddly tender. His arms are strong around her, providing an incredible sense of reassurance. The wind tugs at her hair as she rests her head against his chest, feeling the chaotic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his shirt—a heartbeat that doesn’t align with the quiet strength he conveys; it is a pulse under pressure, beating with dread.

  The wailing whisper of the wind and the distant sounds from below fill the silence between them. The silence is not only bearable but strangely comforting. When he finally pulls back, he finds her gaze and looks deep into it.

  "I want us to make it far in the game. Let me help you, okay?"

  “Reese…”

  "If you don’t want to, if you're thinking of allying with someone else, I’ll deal with it. After the interview, you won’t hear a peep from me." He pauses. "But if even one tiny little piece of you thinks this could be a good idea… we can be a team. You and me."

  "What about the others?"

  Reese shakes his head. "I don’t care about them. It’s you I want to protect. I just need you to trust me. Can you?"

  Rebecca lets out a soft breath. She stares into his eyes, caught there, unsure of what to say or what she wants.

  “I just don’t see the point. If anything, an alliance is a liability, not a smart move.”

  Reese narrows his eyes and bites his bottom lip. “Can I share with you something embarrassing?”

  Rebecca chuckles, taken by surprise. “Okay?”

  “I’ve always lived my life under one rule, ever since I can remember: Get fucked up as much as you can, enjoy every single day, get rich and fuck every girl in the room. Forgive no one.”

  “That’s disgusting!”

  “Hey, it’s not just me. Every man is the same. If they tell you otherwise it’s because they’re lying to you or they can’t get women. I’m sorry but it’s the truth.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less disgusting.”

  “I know, and that’s not my point.” He looks down, rubs his chin, plays with his hair. Then, finally he looks up. At her. “Do you believe it is possible to love someone?”

  Rebecca scoffs.

  “Don’t you love your parents? Your siblings? The kids you’ve probably spread around?”

  “I don’t mean it like that.” He says, shaking his head. “I mean love between a man and a…”

  But he never finishes his sentence. A sharp whirring robs him of the chance. A drone—resembling a pitbull-sized spider—materializes beside them; its opaque body absorbs the shadows instead of reflecting the city lights. Before either can react, blinding lights flare, straight into their eyes as more drones surround them. A robotic voice blasts from every speaker in the house, including the ones up there on the rooftop: “Unauthorized personnel. This area is restricted. Immediate relocation required.”

  The drones, surprisingly forceful for their size, nudge them away from the precipice. Before Rebecca can fully comprehend what’s happening, their metallic arms wrap around her wrists, pinning her hands behind her back effortlessly. There is no struggle. Nothing she can do. The drone gripping her lifts her with a third arm, yanking her back toward the main building at an alarming speed.

  She doesn’t understand. Where did they come from? They seemed to appear out of absolutely nowhere. The door didn’t open, they didn’t climb up the walls, they didn’t fall from the sky. Rebecca would’ve noticed. It’s almost as if they had always been there. But that didn’t make any sense. Why would they wait, then?"

  Two stories below, the cold, impersonal cell feels even more confining than her usual dormitory. Rebecca lies on a thin, musty mattress, the fabric doing little to shield her from the squeaky springs beneath. She can’t see him, but knowing that Reese is in the next cell brings a small measure of comfort. “We totally missed this door,” she calls out, uncertain if he can hear her.

  “I saw it before entering the basement but forgot about it,” he replies after a pause, then adds, “I think we covered the whole thing, actually… well…”

  Rebecca finishes, “Except the arena.”

  “Yeah… but we’ll get there in a few days, together.” He hesitates. “As a team, right?”

  Rebecca stays silent for a moment before finally saying, “Right.” A shy smile spreads across her face.