The Hollow Game.

Chapter One

“Get back here!” The cry was echoed throughout the street as several people raced around a corner. People jerked around, trying to find the source of the disturbances but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “Gotta catch me, old man!” This was followed by a hoot of laughter and down another street the people fled. The laughter died away and was replaced with a grin as eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Two people, both men, broke away from the larger group and headed in the opposite direction.

“Over there,” one of the men pointed towards an area where men and women were seemingly shoved and jostled around. And in the middle was a small, hunched over figure darting towards an alley.

The men shared a grin before following.

They stopped at the entrance, gaping at the empty area save for a brick wall and a few trash cans. “The little brat has to be in here somewhere.”

“We’ll find ‘em,” the other said confidently before going to the trash cans. “And good luck to ya,” the whispered words were followed by a chuckle before the hunched figure walked away, safely across the street from the alley.

The figure strolled past shops and carts brimming with wares until they were several streets away. Another grin, eyes darting to and fro, the figure whistled a merry tune as they turned the corner and headed towards a row of concrete benches. The figure hummed as they plopped down on the closest bench. Glancing left and right, they pouted as a woman came up and sat down next to them. “Excuse me, miss,” she muttered as her bag hit the other’s knees. The figure, a girl, grinned. “Don’t worry about it,” her smile widening as a bus pulled in and the shouts of the larger group of men sounded.

The girl jumped up, startling the women, and quickly got on the bus, still grinning. The doors closed as the first of the men showed up, much to their irritation, and the bus pulled away.

“Happens all the time.”

She grinned, casually opening her hand, revealing a small, neon blue pebble. Her smile widened and a chuckle escaped. This, this was worth the chase. With gentle movements she placed the pebble into the small pocket inside her coat and took out a triple folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, she once more read over the words.

You have been invited to join the Party!

The girl knew this was her chance. The winner of the Party received fame, fortune, and a legacy that few would ever hold. And it was going to be hers, she just knew it.

Farther away in a little shop, another letter was also read over. This has to be a joke? The frown deepened as the words were read again. A terrible joke. I’ll get Joey back for this. The tinkling of the bell snapped him from his revenge planning.

“With you in a moment,” he called, setting the letter aside. He straightened his shirt, brushing his hands down it to remove any wrinkles or stray pieces of lint, then reached for the white cloth in his pocket. Swiping it across both his hands and the storage room door knob, he entered the main room and looked around. Eyes narrowed at the empty floor, he strolled down each aisle, picking things up and placing things where they were supposed to go as he did. Empty.

The door was closed, the storage room was empty as well, he knew that, and behind the counter where the treatment room was also was clear.

“Another glancer, then,” he grumbled. The store was one of several workshops in the area. Downtown Cove was more of a hotspot for partying and gambling than anything else with its flashing lights and constant music. A workshop, though, did well in the area. The boy scowled again as he eyed the front door and the little silver bell above it. Even with his eyes closed he could still see the letter. Bring your tokens, bolts and screws, the entertainment is included! He didn’t know what was worse, losing all his cash or the thought of the entertainment.

With nothing to do, he went back to planning his revenge. Joey better watch out, he thought, gaze drifting to the storage door. A joke like that deserves something special, indeed.

Away from Downtown Cove, in a well kept park, a girl laughed. It was high pitched and mocking, her fists balled at her sides as she stared down the other girls around her.

The one in front, the leader, sniffed and glared at the laughing girl smugly. Between them was a squat black table that flashed blue every few seconds, lighting up the checkerboard on top of it. The leader reached over and placed a red pebble on one of the squares. Seconds later a miniature, holographic griffin stood in its place, wings stretched wide and its piercing gaze forward.

The other girl stared, eyes darting down to her lap where a small bundle of pebbles in different colors were, and internally winced.

Removing a green one, she placed it several squares away from the giffin and watched as the winged animal let out a high screeched of pain before shimmering and fading away, leaving a dulled gray pebble. The holographic banshee remained, standing proudly and waiting the next move.

The leader scowled and threw the next stone. The game continued until only a single dragon remained. “You, you cheated!” The girl slammed her hands against the table, silently snarling at the leader. “I did no such thing,” she retorted, gathering her spent stones and placing them in a blue bag.

“Accept defeat gracefully, Lottie.” The leader stood up, brushed her skirt down and she skipped away, the other girls following her. I’ll beat her one day, she thought, gathering up her own stones.

Inside the glittery pink bag, crumpled at the bottom, was a piece of paper. She shivered, eyeing it with barely concealed glee.

This game may have been a lost but the next one won’t be, I promise. Leaving the park, she kept one eye out for the other girls or anyone who looked like they would want to try their hand against her. Practice, after all, made perfection. In the distance sirens cut through the air and the sounds of another scuffle became clearer the moment she was on the street. Her eyes darted left and right as her mind went back to those pretty words. Wear your finest, it’s a special occasion after all.

Maybe she should go shopping before hand, just to make sure she was dressed appropriately. After all, practice made perfection and she wasn’t going to lose to this game, not by a long shot.

Cold wind drowned out the sounds of loud voices and laughter. Eyes scrunched in determination and a fierce grin stretching across numb cheeks as a group of people cheered wildly.

“Twenty tokens on Smokes! Who wants twenty on Smokes?”

“Fifteen bolts on the kid!”

“Fifteen? Lightweight couldn’t even make it to ten! Five screws.” In the middle of the crowd were two men, their backs facing the onlookers as they stared their opponent down. The larger, older of the two grinned, the scar across his chin making the gesture colder than it was supposed to be. “Now’s the time to back out, kid,” he said. The younger man shook his head, eyes narrowed into slits as watched the older man shrug and crack his knuckles. With a ding of the bell the two began. The older man charged, swinging his arm out and then aiming a kick at the younger’s shins, trying to force him back.

Ducking and diving, the younger man smirked as the bets were placed higher the longer the fight continued. “Come on, kid! Either fight or get out, there are other people willing to go at it.” The other man gritted his teeth as the younger once again ducked away from him.

Shrugging, he quickly spun around and slammed his foot into the older man’s legs before knocking into his chest. “Your funeral,” he said, eyes glinting manically. In seconds the older man was on the ground, the younger man’s foot on his chest, pinning him in place.

The young man watched stoically as his opponent’s face paled then reddened until it was nearly purple and he was shaking.

“What do you take me for?” He spat, his voice shaking and dripping with barely held in venom. “A fool, obviously,” the younger replied. “I told you it was your funeral.” The laughter and shouting that followed only made him grin wider. Before anyone could say anything he let the older man go, snagged the rusty metal box out of someone’s hands and darted out of the warehouse with a mocking wave.

This time the shouting was more along the lines of calling him a cheater and thief that became fainter the further he got. The young man snickered, ducking into one of the small nooks that lined the street.

Opening the box, he quickly counted how much was inside before stuffing the money inside his jacket.

As he did, his fingers brushed against paper and his thoughts drifted back to what he had read.

The only things you need to bring are a sense of adventure and a willingness to join the fun!

The young man shivered, scowling at the ground. A willingness to join the fun? More like a willingness to not be the same.

He glanced around before heading out of the nook and away from the warehouses that sat like judging spectators. The metal box the only thing showing that he had been there at all. Not even the rapidly cooling air made him shiver like those words did and what they entailed.

Up towards High Cycle near the harbor people walked to and fro, laughing and chatting with each other as they walked past shops and restaurants that had their doors wide open.

Pots clanged together as steam rose up, blanketing the slim kitchen like fog. Berries in a wine sauce, broiled vegetables with steamed duck, potato puffs that were too soft to hold thick brown gravy. Clashing and clanking, knives being sharpened and dishes being washed, it all was overlaid with the yelling of multiple people.

“Next dish,” someone called which was answered with an affirmative from someone else. “I need the butter sauce! Who has it?”

“Plate’s ready.”

“Artichokes are done and the mussels are almost there.” A young man stood a ways from all the bustle, a spoon in one hand and a scowl on his lips. “For the last time, who has the butter sauce?” His eyes narrowed until a pan was thrust towards him. “Finally,” he mutter, already dishing out the next several plates. The constant noise continued on well past closing time as the last of the chefs left, leaving only the young man behind. “See you tomorrow, Jackson,” the young man huffed and raised a hand as the door closed. He spun around, taking in the glistening counters and the last of the dishes in the drainer. Sleeves rolled up, he methodically began drying and putting everything away until only the dull gray of the kitchen remained. Another look around and then a curioustry one of the front room and pantry satisfied him that he was, in fact, alone.

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a crumpled letter. “Enjoy the finest cooking, huh? Heh, that desperate to make pretty promises, huh?” He stared at the words before shrugging and once more stuffing it back into his coat. “Sounds like fun,” he murmured into the emptiness. Chuckling, he turned the lights out and gathered his things before heading out the back door.

“I look forward to seeing that so called ‘fine cooking’”

The words burned themselves into the silence, making it heavy and filled with anxious disbelief. The young man shuffled down the street, eyes blank even as he hid a shudder when the rest of the words seared themselves behind his eyelids. 100,000,000 tokens as the reward. Don’t forget to bring your invite to Hollows Grove to be welcomed in. No more needed to be added, the cheerful threat was plenty.