🏆 WATTPAD CREATORS PROGRAM 🏆
🏆 8CC November - December 2023 Completer 🏆
𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌. 𝘛𝘞𝘖. 𝘖𝘕𝘌. 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯.
Thirteen remembers one thing from the moment he woke up: live on, through whatever means necessary. When he is thrown into a society...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Five braced her hips while Eight dusted her hands. "That should be it," the wind user said, flicking the tail of her hair behind her shoulder. "What else do they need my help?"
Thirteen looked up from his work of sweeping the floors to find Five directing Eight towards where they patched up the hole in the roof. Through a common resignation of treating the hall and every corner in it their fortress, they started cleaning the mess the counter brought and have been at it since the sun was high. Now, the orange-ish streams of light punching through the ebbing gap in the ceiling, it seemed the day had come and gone.
He sighed and rolled a shoulder, letting it crack. The tightness in it crawled from his blades to the base of his neck. Holding a broom for more than two hours was enough exercise. The others drowned themselves in exacting work, from repairing the broken tables, smoothing the countertops, and flitting through the files in the cabinets. Shadows danced overhead as Eight swept the currents beneath her and two other people who could only be Twenty and Ten. The latter has great strength, and she had been a good sport with moving the upturned marble finishes from the floor. She could use some work in the strategy department, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
A pile of loose chunks from the walls and the ceiling fluttered by, controlled by Fifteen with her telekinesis. The suspended chunks trailed debris as they went with Fifteen's ability not enough to fill in the smallest of objects. Thirteen sighed, hands tightening on the shaft of his broom. He had just finished that part!
The others were out of the hall, mapping the extent of the building they woke up in. Thirteen had yet to visit the individual rooms and peek through the others' black books. He glanced at the line of crumbs littering the progress he made. Huh. Let them finish their work first before he continues with his.
He dusted his hands and stalked towards one of the doors circling the hall. Unlike the exits the other sections took, this one boasted a mechanism that controlled the flow of people. One could only enter the hall from the corridors but couldn't go back in. It must have clicked into place the moment the counter started, but now it's finished, would it have loosened?
His hands pressed against cold metal, noting the quiet but chilly draft blowing from the inside. As if the entire thing wasn't suspicious already. The air was controlled, and judging by Nine's estimates, it was somewhere around twenty-three degrees Celsius. Thirteen would bet every coin he had that it stayed that way even through a counter.
It proved one thing—they were somehow inside something they have no intrinsic idea about, and not only were they supposed to avoid being killed, they were supposed to escape.
He squinted at the mechanism, noting the wires exposed under the glass panel. Blue light shone from the internal parts. It's active. He looked behind him to see Five striding towards him, her hair swinging behind her.
"Hey, Thirteen." She gave him a wave, glancing at the door stopping him from his goal. "Do you need to get out?"
He stepped back. "Can you tell what the lock was made of?"
