Cyril Chambers

I sat in the plush, sticky leather seat. Opposite me sat Warren, staring at my face with a fearless intensity. He licked his lips, blinking slowly as though doing anything in slow motion would contain his anger.

'So,' he said, his voice smoothed out like velvet, 'let me just get my head around this. You want to leave me, and our company - the company you are the heir to - and enter The Games?'

'Simply put, yes.'

'I absolutely forbid it! There is no way in Hell I'll let you go near that death trap; so unless you have some hidden criminal past I'm not aware of, then you have no reason to volunteer for them!' He blew up, his usual pale pallor flaming with confused fury.

'Warren, you have no right to deny me my wishes! I would not enter if I did not believe that I could do it.' 

'This is madness!'

'Maybe so,' I chuckled softly, 'but if madness is what I need for... that, then so be it.' 

Warren's chair scooted back, it clattered on the floor loudly and he rushed around to place a reasoning hand on my shoulder. His angry expression softened and he tried another method to talk me round, 'Cyril, you have absolutely nothing to prove, not to anyone.'

I shrugged apologetically, 'Warren, you have absolutely no way to talk me around.' 

His face hardened at my sarcastic comment, and his hand dropped from my shoulder. He turned his back to me and stared at the family picture on the fireplace which was located directly behind his pristine desk. 

I stood up, walking out of his study, 'if I die, send my regards to Sandra, brother.' 


'Now, as a volunteer, you're not the usual run-of-the-mill contestant.' The trimmed man told me, as we slowly walked toward my fate. We were closely followed by two guards who I'm sure were just dying for me to back out so they could mock me.

'I am very aware of this.' I smiled pleasantly. His eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, and he return my smile with a polite one of his own.

'Okay, but make sure those cretins in there do not get the best of you, I think a respectable, responsible man like yourself who is an elite of our society shall do very well.' 

'Thank you, sir. But, please, it is my brother who is the "elite" - I just watch and work on the sidelines.' I said silkily, tugging on my waist coat. I was pretty sure I looked presentable.

The guards stepped in front of us, and my stomach dropped as the nerves set in. 

The door swung open with an ominous creek and I stumbled inside, barely hearing the other man's "good luck".

'Hello?' I said, masking my unease with a gruff confidence. Out of the darkness shone a harsh white light, behind it were a pair of contestants sat on a bench, surrounded by backpacks.

'Who're you?' The woman demanded rudely. I glared at her, folding my arms. 

'Cyril Chambers.'

'Ah, the rich boy from the news.' She commented, beside her the man just sat there staring at me with surprise.

'Yes, that's me.' I said sourly.

'What did you do to get in here?' He spluttered.

'Nothing, I volunteered.'

'Oh man, not another crazy person. This guy volunteered, too. What is wrong with you people?'

I shrugged indifferently and stepped back, sitting down on the bench behind me, what have I gotten myself into?

The End

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