Page 51 of Hell’s Weapon

It’s been a couple of hours and I’m feeling much better having exerted myself to near exhaustion.

“Anyone up for another round?” I look around at the six men, hoping one of them will take me on.

“I’ll go again,” Toby pitches in, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat off his brow. “I have gone higher in the past.”

“I’m game,” Rio says. Joon and Cameron join in as well.

We start off with a hundred pounds, which we all lift without any effort, although from the fanfare we get from Laz and Aria you’d think we were breaking records.

The two women are both ones I slept with early on when I got incarcerated. Whilst I swing in any direction, I was overjoyed to find out I was getting sent to a mixed gender prison. I like men, love them in fact but variety is the spice of life as they say.

Looking them both over as I wait for my second turn, it’s like I’ve suddenly developed some kind of sainthood. I wouldn’t sleep with either of them again anyway, they weren’t all that memorable, but I don’t even get a semi as I stare at their tits, or follow the lines of their waists with my eyes.

What is wrong with my dick?

I practically throw the weight above my head this time and let it slam down, not caring about my form at all. It’s still not in the range where I’m having to put in effort, so I don’t give a fuck.

My bad mood is back and I hate it.

Who haven’t I slept with in here? Rio is definitely a friend, I wouldn’t go there. Toby is chronically straight, I tried him already. Cameron, however, I have spoken to less. He is a little bit of a recluse. I don’t think he’s even told me where he’s from. He hangs around with us sometimes but not all the time.

Watching on as he takes his turn, he lifts the weight with ease, his biceps flexing invitingly. Clapping with the others when he lowers the bar, I wait until the second round finishes and the others are switching out the weight disks before strolling across the mats to the water station. Grabbing a bottle, I move towards Cameron as he stands off to the side.

“Hey,” I say, giving him an up nod and exaggeratedly dragging my eyes over his torso. He’s wearing one of the standard issue t-shirts instead of the tighter gym wear. It still clings to his muscular pecs, the number sixty-two–his prison number–stitched on the left side.

“What’s up?” he asks in response.

“Pretty easy so far.” I turn to stand so we’re shoulder to shoulder and use my water bottle to point at the weight.

“Yeah.” His response doesn’t give me much to work with.

“Your room is in the first block right? The one furthest away.” I already know who is in each room, I had that shit memorised on the first day, but asking him makes conversation.

“Yeah, why?” He twists so he’s facing me a bit more. I note how his arms fold across his body.

“Just wondering how easy it would be to pay you a visit. You know, if we wanted to meet up one night.” I have no idea if this dude is into guys but if he is, he’ll catch my drift.

“I don’t sleep with whores.”

Woah. That comment takes me by surprise. This recluse has teeth, and apparently a dickish attitude.

“Your loss.” I plaster on a smile, not letting him see the comment has woken my angry side. “We tend to have the most fun ideas.”

I slam a palm down on his shoulder, giving him a harder than friendly pat before moving to take my turn to lift the next weight in our little competition.

Being shot down by Cameron reminds me of Tacita, of how she refused my first attempts. Only she never shamed me. This asshole clearly has a problem with those that enjoy sex.

It's sad really.

And I’m back to thinking about the rainbow haired treasure that’s fucking with my head.

Maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe, I need to kill someone instead. If I can’t sleep with anyone else, getting murdery should help clear my head.

The next game is coming up and I haven’t really given it much thought. The rules change when the play starts. The rule about us not killing each other goes out the window, any bonds or comrades we’ve built with our fellow contestants ceases. We become competition.

This is what I should be focusing on. I think it will be cool as fuck to work for the Lord of the Underworld, as little as we know about the actual job.

We’ve been given no information about what the next task will be but I have plans to ace it no matter what it is. Perhaps I should be determining who my biggest risks are depending on the type of challenge we get given.