• James awoke on a hot, dim truck, looking around to get a better idea of his surroundings. Several others were in the truck, some of them were awake, some of them under the influence of the red serum. The truck was moving, shaking the cargo area, where they were held. It was silent, as the only sounds were of the truck's engine, and occasionaly, the mumbled grunts and moans from other travelers. James looked closer at them. They all had an artifical limb, most of them were one of their arms. They also had bruises on them, no doubt from the duel their 'watcher' forced them into."
    The truck came to a slow halt, and the back door swung open. A teenager, no older than James, ordered them off of the vehicle. He wore sand-colored clothes, blending in with the sand behind him.
    The heat, the sand...we must be...in the Remallian Desert, he thought. Why would they bring us all to the middle of nowhere, are they going to kill-
    James' thoughts were interrupted as another of the black guards from earlier nudged him with his rifle, urging him off of the truck. "We don't have all day, kid," the man grunted, continuing to nudge James. "We have a lot to do today, and you aren't making this any easier."
    James slid off of the back of the truck, and looked around him. The sun was still out, but setting. It's bright light still lit up the desert, but the temperature had begun to drop drastically. Daytime in the desert is scorching hot, and the nights were even worse. Temperatures easily dropped below 0ºF, and were just as deadly as the heat. He looked around, finding nothing, except a long tent, resting close to some large sand dunes. "Aren't you concerned about those," he said, motioning towards the sand dunes with his head, "won't the sand just fall onto your tent?
    The teenager approached James, eyeing him carefully. The teen stood silent for a while, bringing with him an awkward silence. "Do you know where we are," he asked finally.
    "We're in the Remallian Desert, of course. Any citizen of Remallia would know that."
    "You are both correct, and incorrect," the teen said, removing his hat to reveal blond, shaven-flat hair."We are in the desert, but it does not belong to Remallia. Look behind you, what do you see?"
    James turned around, and looked at the camp again. It appeared the same as before, except the tents had many teenagers under it. "I...see a lousy tent, and some rather large sand dunes."
    "This time, all your answers were wrong. Look at the sand dunes again. Are they perfectly rounded, and is their sand evenly sorted?" The boy walked past James, towards the tents. "These are no sand dunes, but instead, a mountain ridge."
    The boy stared at the 'mountains', and began to notice the small details. The sand was not evenly sorted, but instead, it piled itself at the ground. The dunes were not round. They were pointed towards the top. "I'll admit. It's a brilliant disguise. But what is it hiding?"
    The teen chuckled, and put is hat back on his head. "You will know soon enough," he said, still walking towards camp. He suddenly stopped, and turned. "While I still have the chance to ask you, what is your name?"
    James thought about the question. They probably already had his name somewhere, but no one could match it to his person. Then again, he had no reason to distrust these people, as he had already trusted them with his life. What risky choices had he made in his past life? "M-my name is James," he said hesistantly.
    "Welcome to the Resistance, James."
    James allowed himself a smile, and walked towards the tents. The others had begun to file into the mountain, so it had seemed. The teen turned to him, and yelled something. Through the loud winds, he could not hear it. He saw the teen make hand gestures, indicating that he should hurry up. James turned his slow walk into a brisk run, as the sand-colored tents grew larger.
    What was left under the tents was much less than the tents themselves. Empty tables, old clothes, and discarded trash lay strewn across the 'camp'. "For some reason, I expected more," James said sarcastically.
    "Boy, you have much to learn. I'm Will, by the way." Will moved closer to the mountain, and knelt next to it. He brushed away some of the sand and dust covering a small, wooden door, closed shut by a large metal latch. He unlatched the door and looked around him suspiciously as he opened it. James quickly followed him. As the gate shut, the latch moved back in place,
    James had never been inside a mountain before. They were large, and could hold much more than meets the eye. Will led the way through it, past many signs, indicating where the Mess Hall was, or the Dormitories. One sign caught his eye: a large, metal board with the word 'ARENA' painted sloppily across it. James looked down the hall, and saw large, metal doors with no apparent way of opening them. They did not go down that path, as they instead kept moving forward, towards the center of the first mountain. There was no sign telling what room was at the end of it all, so James would just have to wait and see. An arched doorway separated the stone walls of the mountain from the auditorium, where several chairs surrounded a circular stage in the center.
    Will stopped directly before the archway. "This is as far as I can go. I have other tasks to compelte today, and I can't waste my time in the orientation."
    "Ok," said James, a little disappointed, but at the same time, feeling relief. "I guess I'll see you later, then?"
    "Well, maybe. No promises, though." Will turned and left with a small smile on his face.
    As James walked into the auditorium, a large metal door slammed shut behind him, creating a loud clunking noise as it hit the ground.In a room where sound is meant to be amplified, a sound that would have a normal volume would be deafening.
    I wonder how those doors are controlled, he thought. Maybe then I could see the inside of the arena, or whatever that room was.
    The auditorium wasn't as crowded, only a few dozen teenagers, give or take a few. James noticed a few of the people from his truck, but no faces he actually recognized. All the people appeared to be fully awake now, and were talking to the person next to them.
    "What's this all about?"
    "I hear it's a gas chamber! That's why they locked all the doors!"
    "What? Your an idiot! Why would they waste hundreds of thousands of dollars on high-tech weaponry implanted into our bodies if they planned on killing us?"
    "Well, maybe...I don't know! It just makes sense!"
    As he took is seat, far away from the conversation, the lights dimmed, and the talking subsided. The room remained quiet as a man with slicked-back silver hair emerged from the platform in the center. He wore a black robe that seemed to cover his entire body, except certain parts of his self. Metal plates were sticking out of his shoulders, and his shins.
    Shoulder armor, and shin guards. Perhaps these people know how warfare is done right...