[The Tempest trilogy: Book 3] After the fateful battle for Bifröst, Zoya lost everything, including her will to fight. However, the war with Nightingale and the Yeomen is not over yet and Zoya soon realizes she has what it takes to settle them for g...
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I gradually regain my consciousness. First, I hear voices - muffled talking and nasty bursts of laughter. Then, I start to smell mustiness and dirt. I realize I'm half-sitting leaned against a stone wall. I'm cold. I finally open my eyes and find myself in a small empty room similar to a cellar box.
It's dark, with moldy walls and only one door leading in and out. I try to recall what happened. Oh yeah... the bouncer from the train abducted and drugged me.
Then, I look at myself and gasp in surprise. When I went to Prague, I was wearing a simple tank top and knee-long shorts. But now... someone clothed me into my goddamn Champion costume.
I have already almost forgotten about the elastic black leotard with the wing-shaped symbol on my chest and hurricane on the back. However, this can't be my original costume since this one is made of strange, irritating fabric and clings tighter to my body, revealing what my previous costume was hiding.
This has to be some low-quality counterfeit sold for seven royals next to Skirmish arenas used for low-budget cosplaying. I stand up since the cold floor freezes my naked thighs. I've never had problems with wearing the costume in public, but seeing myself in this cheap sham makes me blush even though nobody's here.
However, this is soon to be changed.
The bouncer who abducted me enters the room; his gun is now visibly worn in the holster attached to his belt. "Finally awake," he utters. "Good. The audience is waiting for you."
"The audience? But I no longer do Neoclash!" I bark at him, shaking off the remaining effects of the drug. "Where the hell did you take me? Answer or I'll beat you into a bloody pulp!"
"Trust me, Tempest, this is not advised here," the bouncer smirks. "And trust me, this will be far from Neoclash." He rudely grabs my arm and yanks me towards the door. There are two more men in suits with guns in their hands. He leads me to a narrow hallway, just as dark and moldy as the cellar. Trying to fight them off here would be too risky since they have only a little chance to miss in such a narrow space.
"Don't try to run away, my dear," the bouncer tells me. "This place is well guarded... and we have guns even though it's illegal. We are a bunch of badasses, you know?" he cackles.
"What am I supposed to do?" I say, trying not to sound scared.
"The same thing you were doing some time ago, only with slightly altered rules," the man replies. "Don't worry, you'll do great. You'll just have to get used to a different kind of audience."
They take me to a large wooden door; I can already hear muffled noises coming from the other side. The thugs open them, one for each wing, and the main bouncer shoves me inside.
I'm immediately attacked by loud, bloodthirsty applause and cheering accompanied by horrible smells of sweat, musk and alcohol. The door behind me close again and I realize I've just entered an arena.
