50 | Race Against The World | November 1, 1899

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Honestly there are many different ways to interpret the title. I'm not changing it though.

Oh my gosh! Chapter 50! 

I'm kinda stretching the times a little bit haha. I didn't time things out a little bit ago...but oh well. Anyway. It's November 1st. This is the final battle. Hope I didn't make you all too anxious with that cliffhanger. Enjoy! :)



"What...what happened?" Race asks drowsily. He has no clue where he is. His head is hurting like crazy. He can't remember anything at all. He can't see--that might just be the lighting, but he's slightly dizzy. In short, he feels awful.

Something is rubbing against his skin, very irritating and giving him a rug burn.

It's rope. 

He's tied up. He can't move his arms. And his hands are tied too--behind his back.

He blinks as many times as he can, trying to get his vision working again. Through the haze, he sees Spot's face. Spot, who is also tied up in the same way he is, sitting on the floor beside him.

"It's November first, Race," Spot says grimly. "Happy sixteenth birthday."

This was not how I wanted to spend the day, at all.

I want Sheepshead.

But Spot is here with him.

Then he remembers Ray is here too.

Ray.

Is he tied up with them as well?

"Are you two okay?" Ray asks worriedly.

Yep, he's here.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Spot replies. "But you got a bump on your head. You sure you're okay?"

"'Course. I survived much worse. How 'bout you, Anto-Race? Are you okay?"

"I mean I guess," Race mumbles. "Anyone remember what happened?"

"Well, we were in a building..." Ray tries to recall, "then there was a door to another building, and somehow it took us into-"

"The World," Race completes the sentence, it all coming back to him.

Finding out about Them. Jameson. The Gambler (Fortunato Alam Ishmael Celesto Nephus). Ray. Trying to find the taken. Stumbling upon the World. Ending up ... here.

It's a very small room, looks like it was designed to hold prisoners. Like them.

"Are we still in the World?" Race asks suddenly.

"I wish I knew," Ray sighs. "I think we are."

"But we could also be literally anywhere else," Spot adds glumly.

Their situation is ... no where near ideal. In any way.

Even if they did find the taken, there's nothing they can do about it now. They're here, taken as well.

We have become the people that we read about.

The thought gives Race chills. Not the good ones. He's ended up on the list of people taken by Them of his very making. Talk about cruel irony.

Suddenly, the door to their little cell bursts open. One of Them comes through.

The guy grabs the rope right in front of Race's chest and stands him up. "You're coming with me."

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