AN: YEEEESSSSS! 12,371 words at the time of me typing this, and it only took ten chapters! So, as you can imagine, this took a very long time to write, and I'm still not too sure how it turned out, but fuck it!
Nicky Haugh: Thank you!
TheAllTimeGreatest: Well, to be fair, the detective was mentioned at the beginning of the chapter. Even if that was the only reference to him. And, maybe Emily did pick something up from Jack? Although, I don't recall her being on the same team as him. And, by the end of this chapter, I think you'll have a good idea who the real villain is. Well, besides Clifford, like you said.
ThorBringsTheThunder: I don't know what to say, but YES. Also, I think I did mention it once before, but, Corrow won't appear in EVERY chapter, just a lot of them. I have to give our detective a little break sometimes. And I also see your point about what I said in the reviews, I will keep in mind to not do that again.
ShadowJcreed: Ah, the merge. Here's my question, tell who you think will make it to the merge? I'd like to hear your thoughts.
AZW330: Haha, convenience is convenient! Well, some of those will become plot lines, others were more one time things. And Hunter? Oh, I'm glad I could surprise you! Who even is that guy anymore? One of Clifford's interns, or a contestant? Or perhaps both at the same time! Also, I got that challenge idea from a 'Survivor' episode...I don't actually watch 'Survivor', but it is an actual challenge...but I'll take the compliment, thanks man! And, well, your Chloe/Timothy future may only depend if they both get out alive...keep holding on hope!
Gucci Mane LaFlare: Thank you! And I'm glad you're liking Hunter!
Those Kinds of Things
It was a miracle that the shower of raindrops had yet to sink through the cabin roofs yet. Every day, the rain seemed to become more and more aggressive, it's drops only now thumping against the ocean, adding to the ocean more and more, every minute of every day.
But, that is one of the reasons the late Chris McLean selected this island in the first place. It just gave off the mood of this miserable place. Dark, a sense of malice, and covered by death.
Thoughts seemed to circulate around Clifford Lane's head as he stood on the still-sturdy dock of the island, as if tapping his foot against it to see if the wood would finally give in to the rain, and fold in on itself like a piece of paper.
"On the previous episode of Total Drama Zenith, the stress of the game has started a massive pileup on our remaining contestants, those in particular, Lizzy and Daisy.
"Eduardo, believing himself as a schemer, attempted to write up some fake blackmail. Of course, he never handed it over to the person who should be in possession of it, perhaps he doesn't feel he should be a courier?
"Alexei still seems to be trying to find a friend in Lizzy. Of course, at every turn, she just turns him down. I don't believe I can blame him though, it isn't his fault he's so boring!
"And so, when the challenge cane around, it ended in a close game, but even with that having to occur, it was the Vipers who won the challenge. And because they did, the Phoenixes executed pharmacist, Roxie after Emily framed her for a note.
"Quite problematic for our victims, huh? Well, how will their situation become even more desperate on this episode? You'll have to find out this time on Total Drama Zenith!"
The whir of helicopter blades would never cease to horrify any of the remaining thirteen contestants left.
To some, it gave the impression of false hope.
To others, it would be a mechanical sound, a sound so disgusting from what it sounded like to them.
A rarity of metal banging off itself, which may or may not create a scraping sound. It created a sound that was like that of a wood chipper.
And when the horrible invention is brought to light, the only thing anyone can think of is the poor young man that was Jerome, slowly being eaten away by the chipper, his screams becoming deafened by the infernal machine.
The ones who witnessed it, they could see his death sometimes replay again in their heads. The poor teen sinking into it, his blood spraying every which way, until suddenly, there was no sound at all besides the grinding of the chipper's gears.
It wasn't just Jerome, either. It was each and every death that they had been forced to witness.
Ranging from Travis's, to Jack's, to Jewel's, and, rather more recently, to Dylan. All of those names were those of a few.
But right now, now it was time to dispose those bodies. After all, it was the middle of the season!
Well, if any of this could even be considered a 'season'.
It was one of the first times Clifford hadn't held his umbrella over his head during the ongoing storm.
Instead, the sadist had taken the umbrella in his hand, and stuck it's too into the soil, spinning it with his wrist just to let it dig in even further.
The helicopter softly touched against the ground, it's blades spinning at a tremendous rate, and forcing the water droplets of rain in every direction. It seemed to push the wind back, letting Clifford's coat fly being him as he stood, watching the helicopter slowly slow itself to a stop.
It was a Boeing CH-47 Chinook, a twin-engine, tandem rotor, heavy-lift chopper, and almost looked as if it were specially designed for military personnel.
But to think that, you would only be half right.
As the blades whirred to a halt, Clifford heard Brendan speak from behind him. "Why so many helicopters these last few days?" The so-called 'intern' had asked.
"Well, all sorts of different reasons! Would you like the long version, or the short version?" Clifford rhetorically asked, turning to Brendan, all the while his vicious smile remained, plastered across his lips.
The heavy iron door opened from the back of copter, allowing a slick looking man to slowly step down, fitting white gloves on his hands as he did.
He had a slightly round looking face, his black hair having been slid over the top of his head, as if he were a puppet that had its head painted over.
Not only that, but he wore circular glasses that seemed as if they were trying to escape from him due to the shape of his nose, allowing them to simply slide off his head if he hadn't continuously pushed them back on.
Like some of the others that had been forced to walking along the island, he wore black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt, with a light gray sweater, it almost looked as if it were supposed to be a winter sweater or something similar.
"Jordan Cage." He introduced himself, trying his best to avoid the mud covered ground. Of course, he could only do his best.
Once he was within arms reach, he offered Clifford his hand, a gesture that Clifford simply seemed to look at before swiftly moving his hand away.
"Nice to meet you too." He spoke honestly, even if he didn't seem that way. He turned around and gestured with his elbow towards three wheelbarrows that Harvey and Brendan had wheeled over prior to the landing.
"I assume I'm a kind of replacement?" Jordan figured, glancing from the wheelbarrows, and to Clifford.
In response, he noticed the subtle nod come from the sadist's head. "Bingo." He spoke. His fingers curled around his umbrella, and forced it out of the ground, allowing himself to take a step closer to the wheelbarrows, allowing Jordan and Brendan to follow behind.
It was then that Jordan realized what was in the wheelbarrows.
The dead bodies of the contestants who were already dead.
Ten bodies of the eleven dead contestants were in those wheelbarrows. It was obvious why one of them was missing, however. There was no body left to dispose of.
Jordan found himself circle around one of the carts, resting his hands on the handles, and begin to push himself along to the chopper, feeling as the wheel cut smoothly through the soft dirt of the earth.
Clifford seemed to gaze as Jordan left them behind, placing his free hand delicately on the rail of another on the carts, stopping Brendan from wheeling it anywhere.
Twisting his head to look down at what one could call a trophy, he let his hand reach to the back of Dylan's head, bringing the corpse off the other bodies, and, if he could still see, to look right at him.
"You...have caused quite the trouble, Mister Forrest." Clifford smirked, bringing his hand to trace the perfect hole in the center of his head.
The blood had dried up only hours after he had died. Yet, it was so fascinating to see the small stains along his head, having dripped down from the wound.
Dylan's brain had shut down in seconds after Hunter fired off that shot. He could still remember it as clear as day. The teen's head snapping back, and an explosion of blood in air from the shot.
It was quite the sight to see. So glorious. Within seconds from each other, Dylan was one of the healthiest people in the room, and then, he became the deceased in the room.
"Hopefully your story can be finally put to rest." Clifford nodded, yet still grinning. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dylan's forehead, before pulling away, and letting the corpse fall flat back into the wheelbarrow.
Clifford stood up straight, leaning slightly on his umbrella as he watched Brendan begin to move, following Jordan to the helicopter.
Even as the sadist moved away, one hand folded behind his back, and his other resting on handle of his umbrella, he continued forward and back to his main headquarters, he never seemed to notice Harvey staring at him with a mixture of loathing, and distaste.
He had had enough of everything Clifford was doing. Screw the plan. He needed to get these teens off this island now.
And with the bringing of this helicopter, he now has an escape plan, not only for himself, but also for the teens that were still left alive.
'So close, Harvey. Today is the day Clifford Lane's world falls apart.'
She wished she could say that the heat of the sun had woken her up. It should've anyway. That's how life works.
But when you're in a place like this, when is it ever the sun? It almost never is. In a place like this, you should be happy you managed as much sleep as you did.
For Erica, she had been staring at her bedroom ceiling for the last hour or so.
There was no rush to get up. None at all. Even if Clifford started his game around eight in the morning, was there ever a reason to hurry?
They were all dead.
This 'game' was just death row. Death row for the innocent.
The soft of one's knuckles took her out of her thoughts, and for the first time in the last hour, Erica allowed herself to avert her gaze from the ceiling, and to the door.
"Come in." She spoke cooly, her arms crossed, resting on her abdomen.
The door slowly began to creak open, almost as if the handle wasn't needed at all. Who entered the room was one of two people Erica had expected, at least, once she heard the knock.
Jade, the savant, shakily stepped into the room, pressing her back to the door, and moving herself along the carpet, shutting the door without touching it.
She didn't take Roxie's death lightly.
Wasn't that obvious? She still wasn't used to seeing a dead body, nor was she used to voting someone off for Clifford to kill in an unnecessarily brutal way. Who was the last person she saw die, anyway? Who was the last person she helped vote off?
Quietly, the savant slowly found herself walking across the carpet, her feet seemingly sinking into the carpet.
Perching herself on the edge of the bed, Jade stared desperately out the window, ignoring the raindrops splashing against the glass, and keeping her exact focus on the raving ocean waves.
"I'm going to die here, aren't I?" She finally spoke after a long moment of silence, all but twiddling her thumbs.
"You can't give up hope, Jade," Erica retorted, shifting her gaze back to the ceiling. "That's what Clifford would want from you."
"Does it matter, Erica? We're all gonna die at some point." The savant returned, turning back to her. She seemed to acknowledge that Erica hadn't been looking at her, but rather, she continued to lie on her back, and facing the ceiling.
"I suppose that's true." The freerunner shrugged her shoulders. She hated these deaths, and she hated seeing these poor people die. And every time, she seemed calm and collected, as if she didn't care.
That wouldn't be right, however. She did care. Every time she was involved in an execution her heart pounded. None of them were ready to die, who ever is?
What Clifford has been doing this past week or so has been more then screwed up. He is the definition of sadism.
"Don't you care?" Jade found herself scowling, standing up with a glare.
"Of course I care!" Erica countered, "I don't wanna be in this situation, just as much as anyone."
Jade gulped silently, placing her palms on her nose, and forcing her eyes closed. "Then why don't you look like it?"
"It's just something I learned to do," the freerunner answered, turning her head to face the savant. "You need to stay calm, Jade. No matter the situation."
The girl took a heavy breath, removing her hands from the sides of the bed and placing them on the back of her head.
"I don't want to say this, but it is for the best you stay away from me." Erica spoke, finally throwing her legs over the side of the bed, allowing her to sit up straight. "It's for the best. The best for both of us."
The girl scowled, stomping to the door and flinging it open with an anger she didn't she realize she had, treading further down the hallway, holding her arms on her head in such a mixture of emotions.
Erica sighed, dropping her head to the floor of the room, letting everything what just happened sink in. Why does it feel like this situation got only so much worse now?
'I guess Roxie wasn't the person I thought she was.'
That was the thought that had been going through Mickey's mind as he dressed himself into his regular clothes.
During the execution, Mickey was the one to take the death the hardest. Roxie had become something of an big sister to him, and it hurt him to see her die.
Whatever it was that note claimed, it wasn't Roxie. It couldn't be! That isn't her!
Alas, it doesn't matter anymore whatever she really was. She wasn't breathing anymore. She wasn't alive anymore. She's gone, and she's never coming back.
Steadily, Mickey opened his door, letting his innocent eyes wander all around the hallway. He could make the out Jade's figure start down the stairs, and even if he wasn't aware that she was very clearly angry, he would never be able to see it.
"You okay?" He heard the soft voice coming from behind. Soft and caring. It only reminded him further of Roxie.
Looking over his shoulder, he could see Erica's figure, almost looming over him. Or maybe it was just in his mind?
"You don't seem like it." She responded, placing her hand on his shoulder. He almost burst into tears right then and there.
The teenage child spun around and hugged Erica tight, taking the freerunner by complete surprise.
"I'm sorry." She muttered quietly to him, wrapping her own hands around him. Why did she feel it was her fault Roxie was dead? Maybe they did jump to conclusions too fast. Maybe she was innocent after all.
'It doesn't matter.' She had promptly decided. No, she would have to protect Mickey. It only seemed right, especially now. Now that his sister figure was gone.
How long they stood there will probably never be remembered, but what is is the decisions that both teens had circulate around their mind.
Pulling herself away from him, Erica let her hand wrap around his, holding it up to both their eyes. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Mickey." She found herself promising.
It was quite the predicament, isn't it?
How much different would any of this be had she let Mickey drown during the very first challenge? Would Roxie still be alive? Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it would've always played out this way.
As Mickey and Erica edged towards the end of the hallway, neither of them seemed to notice Emily leaning in her doorway, her arms folded across her chest as she watched the duo.
Her thoughts seemed to flow through her head in a way she never seemed to notice before.
She was responsible for Roxie's death. No one seems to know that, not even Eduardo. For all he knows, it was just a coincidence. Of course, that's for the best, and that's part of why she allowed a teen with such a small brain to join her.
With Roxie dead, hopefully that will shift the attention from people such as Jace, and instead put Mickey in the spotlight.
They don't seem to understand that Mickey is the same age as them, and still acts like a child. So why are they protecting him? Now, even with Roxie gone, why is Erica protecting him?
Maybe part of that note she forged actually did speak some truth.
'God! Even if what I did was wrong, why does it feel so damn GOOD!' Emily thought, her euphoria catching up with her. Although Roxie wasn't killed by her hand, it still felt amazing that she was the cause of what happened!
"What're you looking at, señorita?" She heard Eduardo speak from behind her, tearing her away from her thoughts, and allowing her to spin around, and stare Eduardo in the eye, in which, if she choose so, could either be menacing, or not, depending on her mood.
"Thinking, ever heard of it?" Emily lied smoothly in return, tapping her fingers along her arm.
Eduardo found himself flashing a grin he thought was seductive. Of course, he couldn't be any more wrong. "So what is it that you used Roxie's pages for?"
"I was looking for blackmail." She answered, once again lying much more suavely then the first time. "Obviously we don't need it anymore." She scowled, reaching into her pocket, her hand curling around the page she tore out.
Taking a quick last glance at it, she shoved it into Eduardo's chest, and let her arm fall back to her side. "Get rid of that for me."
"Why?" The wannabe charmer asked, his smile completely fading away.
"Because I found it. I believe it's only fair that you get rid of it."
"And how do you reckon I do that?"
"You're a smart guy. Figure it out." Once again, she lied. Turning away, she began down the hall and crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaving her 'partner' staring in disbelief, holding a crumpled up piece of paper in his hand.
"Humans. So fragile." A demon spoke as he woke up in the body of his female counterpart.
Nebiros took a long breath, running his hand through their hair. Despite being whatever he was, he still wasn't used to the human body. Especially its nature.
Sleep. Lust. Hunger. Whatever are other human needs he has yet to discover in this...form.
Standing to his feet, Nebiros reached into Irina's wardrobe, and dressed himself in the outfit he only saw fit.
Tossing away the clothes Irina always wore, he managed to fit himself into a black tuxedo, expertly tying a red crimson bowtie at his front, and black tuxedo pants. Placing a black top hat on his head, he ran his fingers over the brim, and staring at the mirror.
He didn't enjoy the body he was forced to be trapped in, but what did it matter? His job was simple, escape the island alive, and cause as much chaos as he pleases.
Simple. Simple, and yet so perfect.
The door to Irina's room opened, and it was the demon that stepped out, a different smirk on his face rather then the usual look Irina seemed to have.
"What's up with you?" A male voice came from behind him. What was his name again?
"Hello, Chase." Irina spun around, staring almost blankly into the eyes of her teammate.
"It's Jace," said teen corrected, "and again, what're you wearing?"
"Actually you didn't say that." Irina retorted. "But to answer your question, I did like how this looked."
Jace raised an eyebrow. Irina seemed...different then normal, why is that?
"Anywho, shall we get our game faces on for our next challenge, Chase?"
"It's Jace." The teen corrected her again, ignoring her own question.
Even if he had given her an answer to her question, it would've left unheeded as she was already walking down the hallway, leaving a type of sway in her arms that Jace didn't notice.
Everything about Irina was so much more different than anyone would begin to think.
Hunter sat on his bed, holding the same CZ-USA 85 Combat in his palms, tracing each line and indent the pistol had with his thumb.
Every day of every minute, he could feel himself falling further and further away from humanity. Soon, he would just be the shell he would used to be, taking Clifford's orders whenever that godforsaken song was playing.
He still couldn't believe that he killed Kevin. He could remember it, but he hadn't had a single control in his body. Whatever Clifford and St. Clarence had been creating, it was so much stronger then he ever was and ever will be.
Isn't the mind meant to be the strongest part of the human anatomy? Why doesn't it seem that way!?
No, wait a minute. He has been having full control, even when he killed Kevin. That song that was playing has been the trigger for every dark thought, and inch of hatred in his body, and brought it to light.
He has had full control of his body.
All this was was denial. Almost like a relationship. He was in denial that anything like this could ever happen to someone, including himself.
Hunter closed his eyes, and placed the pistol back on his bed, leaning backwards as he took a breath of everything he was doing and thinking.
And quickly, he moved the pistol under his pillow, hiding it from anyone who would come in. It should remain under there until his own execution, where he'll shoot Clifford, and take him down with him.
If he couldn't survive, that's the least he could do. Especially now.
Stepping out of his room, Timothy watched as the rest of his competitors walked past him, some of them annoyed with his stupid grin he always had, and others glad that they had one light bulb in this dark shadow.
Starting to walk along the carpet, he felt two small hands grip his shoulders and force themselves off the floor for a few seconds.
The person let go, and dropped down next to him, with her smile of her own.
As for what Timothy saw, Chloe looked so much more beautiful then she did yesterday. Not to say he didn't find her attractive.
She had let her hair down, and seemed to reveal that it wasn't as long as people thought it was, only reaching just above her shoulders.
Chloe's smile only grew wider at seeing Timothy's expression, and she pushed her purple highlight away from her eye, begging herself to not blush.
"You look beautiful."
'Don't blush! Don't do it, Chloe! Don't blush!'
The thoughts in her head went unheard as Chloe's cheeks burned up, not from embarrassment, oh no. But from an emotion she never felt before until she met Timothy.
"Thank you." She smiled wide, taking Timothy's hand in her own. Maybe this was the best time to tell him how she truly felt?
"Timothy, can I be honest with you?"
The optimist's smile faltered, yet only slightly. It was back before she knew.
"Of course you can." He murmured, holding the girl's hand tight, but she didn't seem to object. Wasn't that a good sign?
Chloe didn't seem to know how to start. Her smile never faded, however, and Timothy believed that was a good thing. Of course it was! She finally looked happy.
"I-I wanna live the rest of my life with you, Timothy." She admitted, failing to look him in the eye, and instead found herself looking at the floor. "Whether I die today or tomorrow, or I want you to know that being with you has made me the happiest I have ever been."
"That's so cheesy." The optimist joked, which Chloe could only shrug in response.
"Well, I think it's the best way to tell you everything I know how to say."
She seized his hand it placed it on her hip, making sure Timothy kept it there.
Her smile disappeared for a moment, and her eyes flickered to Timothy's, and then back to the floor. "You know only one of us can get out of here…" She trailed off. There was no way she was going to finish that thought aloud.
"We'll find a way. I won't let you die." Timothy brushed his thumb through Chloe's hair.
The short girl pulled herself away from him, scratching her neck slightly. She hated this. Hated this game. Hated the possibility of what could happen to them.
Maybe things could be different now. Maybe her and Timothy were always meant to be together. Maybe they will survive Clifford's sick game.
The only thing they could do is cling to hope. But that's all they could do. Nothing more, nothing less.
Each and every morning, the sadistic terrorist known as Clifford Lane always seemed to find it amusing as every one of his possible victims slowly walked down the stairs, and into the kitchen.
As per usual, Land stood between the two tables and in front of the board, keeping his umbrella's edge pressed against the wooden board in the floor, twisting it left and right, as though it were a pendulum clock.
Every contestant filed in one by one, all of them sitting down at their appropriate table. It wasn't like they had much a choice. Who knows what Clifford would do if you were to break any rule of his game.
And as they all sat down, Clifford brought his hand from behind his back, looking at a new photo with a small piece of tape to it.
He brought the new photo to the board, next to its rightful place next to Marisa's suffocated mess. This one was an image of Roxie, holes and blood emerging from all over her body, ranging from her throat, her chest, her cheeks, and one of her eyes.
If one were to look closely, they'd be able to see as if her eye had been popped, with its insides sliding down the side of her face.
"You're sick." Lizzy grimaced. Much to her chagrin, Lane simply shrugged, neither confirming nor denying her.
Some of them could hardly look at these disgusting images, especially this early in the morning, and usually, minutes from breakfast.
The only one who was looking was Irina, wonders seeming to explore her head. Would each person she kill be pictured and put on this board?
"Would any of you like to get to the next challenge?" Clifford asked, turning away from the board. He didn't expect anyone to answer, and he was glad no one did.
The front door opened, and Brendan entered, wheeling in a cart with a plastic crates, almost filled to the brim with handcuffs.
To the left of the crate was a hat, its opening facing up towards the ceiling. Unbeknownst to the cast, several names had been cut and placed inside. Thing is, all of those names belong to someone on the Vipers.
"Today's challenge will be different. But before we get to it, I think we should even the teams out before we begin." Clifford calmly stated, walking in between the two tables, his hand once again neatly folded behind his back.
What was this about? Was Clifford going to kill another one of them just to even out the teams? Considering who this man was, anything truly was possible.
He spun around, facing the teams once again, and his back to the crate. Brendan circled around the cart, his hand gripping the brim of the hat, holding it at Clifford's side.
"Vipers, you have one too many players. So, I'm afraid we're going to have to reduce you by one."
What?
A new kind of fear began to implement itself into the Vipers' mind, as they watched Clifford's hand dip into the hat, and circle around until it grabbed onto a piece of paper.
A paper with a name on it.
But even as this happened, Emily seemed to be the only person to see Lane's umbrella hand slip into his pocket. His Ruger SR1911.
After what felt like a solid minute of waiting, Clifford's hand finally seemed to grab onto a paper, and he pulled back, reading the name before he smirked devilishly.
"And, I have tabulated the results, and the next person gone, is…" Lane trailed off, retracting his hand from his coat pocket, and showing that Emily was indeed right. It was his Ruger.
"Emily."
And then without anyone completely registering it, a single shot rang out.
But no impact with flesh was made.
Emily had closed her eyes, expecting a bullet to hit her as soon as her name was said. But if that was the case, why was she still alive? Why wasn't there any sudden pain? No blood?
"I'm kidding!" Came Clifford's voice once again, and when Emily opened her eyes, she saw that Clifford had his pistol pointed at the ceiling, and a wicked smile going from ear to ear.
"Killing one of you before the execution is against the rules. You can only die during a challenge because of your own stupidity, or by your heartless teammates voting for you." The sadist had made clear. He didn't want to repeat this, and this fake out seemed the best way to do it.
"What's wrong with you!?" Daisy yelled, showing a slight concern for Emily, who still seemed to be slightly shaken.
"We all have our faults." Came the smug response as he dropped his Ruger back in his coat pocket, and placing his hand back on the handle of his umbrella.
"Now, your true challenge is simple. The rest of you will be handcuffed to a person of the opposite team. Anyone can drop out at any time, however, the team with the most drop outs faces execution."
"Sounds simple enough." Eduardo winked at Erica from his table, who didn't seem to notice.
"Of course it does. At first, that is. Each pair is allowed to do anything to their opponent to make them quit the challenge. Of course, you can't be too extreme. Killing you guys is my jobs." A demented smirk emerged on his lips, though his stature never changed.
"So, do we just choose who to partner up with?" Alexei asked, his eyes wandering over the team across from him.
"I was getting to that." Lane looked to the hat, and then back to his victims. "Just like with Emily, I will be drawing some names. When your name is selected with another name, from the opposing team, then you will be handcuffed to each other."
"And when someone drops out? Where do we go?" Someone asked. Clifford didn't seem to care who it was because the question they asked was much more important to him.
"Find Mister Gardener." He jabbed his thumb at Brendan, who gave a slight nod in return.
As Clifford spoke, the contestants had to notice Brendan reach into his pocket and pluck out six pieces of paper, all of them cut evenly as they were placed down on the cart. The introvert pushed each sliver of paper to make them appear the same distance from each other.
The sadist's eyes glanced down at the top name, his hand reaching back into the hat. "Mickey, your partner shall be…" He allowed himself to trail off as his hand circled around the hat. All that mattered was when he was going to stop, and grab that piece of paper.
While none of them were voting someone off, Clifford certainly made it feel that way.
Finally, his hand had stopped and he brought the paper to his eyes, and read the name aloud. "Eduardo."
The two teens locked eyes with each other, and both of them knew who it was they were going to have to deal with for this challenge.
Despite being on opposite sides of the room, they both stood up and approached each other, meeting at the crate where Brendan held Eduardo's hand up, and snapped the handcuffs around his wrist, before he did the same to Mickey.
"Next on the list," Clifford started, seeing as how no words had been exchanged between both Mickey and Eduardo, "Jade."
Again, they could only watch as his hand dropped into the hat. But, one would have to admit, it felt so much faster than how it was last time.
"Chloe." He read, placing the paper down next to Jade's name. There was some hesitation between the two of them, as if they should even stand at all. While they didn't have a history with each other, their relationship could most definitely take a hostile turn. Not from Chloe, however, but from Jade. It was her mood.
Emotions are so complex, aren't they? You could be the happiest person alive, and then in just mere moments, the angriest person. But, that is just how human nature is.
Just like how it is in human nature to survive. People do the most irrational things when it comes to their survival.
However, that always does change depending in the situation. It's just how people are, and no one will ever be able to change that.
The conspiracy theorist and the savant both exchanged glances as Brendan snapped the handcuffs on, and in doing so, Clifford immediately went to the next person on the 'list'.
"Irina, and Alexei." There was no break this time. The sadist seemed to have become bored by the way this was going, and only wanted to end this part of today's activity as fast as he could.
"Looks like it's me and you, Hike!" Irina exclaimed in a uncharacteristically way once the duo had been handcuffed to each other.
"Hike?" Alexei asked. His question became shunned by the demon, already messing slightly with the handcuffs as they were pushed out of the way of the cart.
"Hunter and Lizzy!"
An interesting pair. How long would they last in this challenge?
Not long, probably. No one seems to trust Hunter at all after the incident he was responsible for just a few days ago.
Of course, no one would ever really know the cause behind what he did.
Why he did it was only because of that song. In a way, he's become a sleeper agent working alongside Clifford, against his will, may you keep in mind.
"Erica and Timothy!"
Ah, one of the pairs that would probably get along better than most. As far as anyone knows, Erica doesn't have any enemies.
Of course, that could change at any point in time. There was one person she didn't like, but was she framed for that note?
Poor Roxie.
If she was framed, she would have to find out the person responsible. There was only so many people, however. The most likely candidate would be Jace, but even he doesn't seem as cold hearted as to get someone executed.
Then again, he and Jack were close in the time the polymath was alive. So really, who can you trust in this place?
Mickey. She could trust Mickey. Poor guy, he seemed so close to Roxie, it only makes it fair for her to be the one to look after him now.
If anyone deserves to escape this place, it is him. It was her morals over her own survival, if she could help anyone survive, she would be happy. Even if that meant she would end up dead.
"And finally, Daisy and Jace! Have fun you two!"
"Shit." Jace found himself curse under his breath, his eyes wandering to where Daisy was sitting. She, too, looked unhappy with this outcome.
Of course, it wouldn't really affect her as much as it would Jace. Whatever he had as an idea to torture her, she would be too strong for it. She knew that.
Question is, how much does Jace know?
"So, does Emily not do anything this challenge?" Lizzy asked, glaring at the loner as she remained sitting, smug with her result for the day.
"That would be correct." Clifford smirked, resting his hand hard on his umbrella. "Now, go do whatever it is you want, because your challenge has just begun once more."
Breakfast came and went for them. Although it was definitely difficult to eat with your non-dominant hand, considering they were stuck, handcuffed to each other.
Not only were their hands shaking from the cuffs, but also with fear. A factor most people seem to forget.
Still, however, it was something that was probably the most important piece of a puzzle, and especially for Jade as she and Chloe sat on the steps of the cabin.
Still, the savant was furious with what Erica said earlier that morning, but what good was it to take that anger out on someone she hardly knew?
Chloe flipped through the pictures she has taken since her time on the island, scrolling through each and every small detail that she believed was big.
She had to notice, though. Recently, during specific challenges, Clifford never seemed to watch them, almost as if he disappeared off the island entirely.
But where was he?
His headquarters! Her memory of that dark room was still vivid, and she still doesn't remember where it was but what would Clifford be doing there?
"Why don't you believe the government?"
Jade was...asking her? That was the first. No one ever asked her questions about what she thought. They always thought she was just another person, crazy, and deluded.
But if someone was willing to ask, it did feel like someone does want to talk. Someone that wasn't Timothy. Not that she had any complaints. Talking with him, no, everything about him is wonderful.
It's amazing he wasn't taken already.
Inwardly, Chloe sighed dreamily. Oh, Timothy, you truly were the best thing to happen to her. But there was something that they hadn't thought about facing before.
What would happen to the other if they were executed. No, not 'if', when they are executed.
"I don't know." The theorist finally spoke. She was genuine, considering who this girl was, the look on her face almost certainly gave that away.
"You don't know?" Jade repeated, as if she were a computer being given an answer that couldn't compute.
Chloe nodded, looking down at her feet. "I guess it was the environment I grew up in. Or maybe it was my parents?"
Understandable.
It's almost like a religion. If you go to church, chances are that you believe what they say because it is what your parents believe. What your parents want you to believe.
A type of butterfly effect, if you will. Fascinating, isn't it? One small event in someone's life can change them to what they can become when they become an adult.
But it is always so much more than that. Just a mere sequence of words can have dire consequences. What if a man jokingly said 'I love you' to a woman walking past him on the street. Something...small, isn't it? But later that night, her boyfriend sneaks into your house and shoots you dead. The butterfly effect.
Of course, it has so many different meanings, but when it comes to the life of someone, why does it seem that much more interesting?
"I think it started when I was ten," Chloe spoke, earning Jade's attention. The savant looked at the girl as she began her story. "I noticed on some news articles in the paper that...well, the details were wrong or different depending on the person or publishers who wrote it.
"I don't think I cared about it at first, but the more I watched the news, read it, the more I saw that the details were wrong, or out of place.
"So, I researched conspiracy theories, like the 9/11 attacks, the John F. Kennedy assassination, and Area 51. But, I guess the ones that really seemed interesting to me was the extraterrestrial sightings."
Jade looked baffled. Why was this girl opening up to her this much? This should be something one should keep to themselves.
Because if she wanted to get out if here, Chloe would have to die. It isn't what she wanted, but to get out, what could she really do?
"Why did you audition for this show?" Chloe found herself asking. Maybe that should've been a question kept to himself. Too late now, though.
"I don't know." The savant admitted. "To get away from everything, maybe. Or, maybe to prove those people at my school that I could win."
And then there was silence. No one was any more willing to say a word. Didn't they already say enough about themselves?
Not that it really matters. For all they know, Clifford will release everything about them as soon as this show ends, their parents, brothers, sisters, all the rest of it. But, what could they do?
Lane considers himself to be ahead of the game, but what was he really? Just another serial killer. There isn't any difference, as soon as he does end up behind bars, whenever that is, two more roots will grow up in his place. It's a cycle that will never end.
It's just how humanity is. You can't change that. Nobody can.
Well this felt...different.
Alexei and Irina had been walking along the forest path for a good ten minutes now, far away from anyone at the so-called 'camp' that they had been forced into.
Irina and him and never met, was she always so kind like this, or was it supposed to be her way of coping? After all, that would be understandable.
"Come on, Hike, I thought you enjoyed navigating through the forest!" Irina had exclaimed, all but pulling Alexei along as they walked.
'Wait, what?'
"How did you know that? I never mentioned that." The hiker recalled, and indeed, he never did mention that he did enjoy that 'sport'.
"Well, you certainly look the part!" She spun around, looking Alexei in the eyes, and it was the first time he noticed her eye color had faded from its feline orange, and to a pearl white.
"Are you wearing contacts?" He asked, flicking his sight from eye to eye.
Maybe it was better for Nebiros to ignore him? Yes, it would be, wouldn't it?
She tugged their arms further down the path. "Let's continue on." She decided, pulling Alexei with her, failing to notice the look of what seemed to be a mixture of nervousness and fear as they walked.
Emily had watched as her teammates and enemies dispersed through the campground. Although, she couldn't help but notice one group fail to leave. Lizzy and Hunter.
Strange. Or maybe it was simply because they'd prefer not to be in the pouring rain.
It doesn't matter, though. With Roxie dead, should she find a new target, or had she already found one?
Erica.
That wouldn't work. According that note, Erica would've been Roxie's target. It would seem...obvious if she did something that way to Erica so soon, she would have to wait.
But that doesn't mean that she can't look towards those in that alliance. Who was it again? Dylan, Jade, Daisy, Hunter, and Erica. How convenient.
Perhaps she was looking at this wrong. Perhaps Erica had a nice blackmail opportunity waiting for her. Wasn't it obvious?
Discreetly, Emily picked the lock to Erica's door, a skill she learned from Eduardo. He may have been completely brain dead, but he does have a few useful qualities.
Softly, Emily opened the door, making sure she didn't make a single sound. She didn't want to alert either Hunter or Lizzy.
What she found inside was exactly what she thought she would find. A neat and tidy room, with trophies from Erica winning marathons at the top of a bookshelf.
She could feel the carpet seem to slip from beneath her feet, allowing her room as she stood, examining the room, unaware where she should even start.
Within seconds, the loner was searching through the drawers, quietly removing anything that would help her determine a blackmail opportunity. Something she would be able to exploit to its full potential.
And there it was, what felt like a gold mine, all on her hand. But why did it feel so weak? So boring? Perhaps it was only because it felt so childish behind it all, little love notes being passed to each other.
Of course, it was only one. But it was one that made every piece fall into place. A signal that there was someone on this island who didn't exactly look like what he seemed.
Dylan Forrest and Erica Hayes were much more than friends.
How cartoonish was that?
Detective John Corrow popped a cough drop in his mouth, staring at the front gate of one of the single most expensive houses in L.A.
He had rolled up to the house, and pressed the button on the speaker, before his hand had found its way up to his mustache.
There was a very long pause of silence. One that Corrow felt went on much too long, but his worry was put to side when he heard a voice on the other side of the speaker.
"Yes?" It was a male voice. Of course he was, he hoped he was, otherwise this would've been the wrong person to visit.
But was only because he was his one and only lead. He lead that he had to call after forcing himself to watch another episode of Clifford Lane's show.
While he was right to live in a secure house, would it really help him? Help him survive Lane's threshold on his family?
"Detective John Corrow, I'm here to see Jason Forrest." The detective spoke, intentionally leaving out the portion of his statement of being a cop where his jurisdiction was on the other side of the country.
He hear a faint 'Christ' come from the other side of the speaker, before the man brought his lips back to the microphone. "May I see your badge?"
The detective complied, almost as though be expected as much of this to happen. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his police badge and showed it to the camera, keeping it just far enough away so he wouldn't be able to tell it wasn't a Los Angeles emblem.
There was another pause. This one lasted much longer than the last, as if the person from within the house was contemplating on even letting the detective in.
Ultimately, he decided to do so, pressing a button, and allowing his gates to open.
It only took him only a minute for him to pull into the driveway, and parking his rental 2018 Jeep Grand Cherokee.
He seemed to contemplate what he should say. He sighed. This was so much a bigger case than he could ever imagine, and with Forrest as his only lead, he could not screw this up.
He opened the door, and stepped out, reaching his arms around his coat, and pulled it further onto his back, smoothing out its creases.
The front door opened, though there was no person to touch it. Creaking open slowly, there was indeed no person behind it.
"I'm sorry for your loss." The detective grievously apologized to the millionaire. He could only imagine how hard it is for someone to lose the person they love. His son was dead. He died on international television.
"You people keep saying that, but do you really mean it?" Forrest bitterly countered, his remorse only lucid in his voice.
He was right. His son was dead, the last thing he would want to hear was something to remind him of his loss.
"I know the last thing you want to hear is about your son, and I am sorry, but I need to ask you some questions regarding that show."
"Hah! Show!" Forrest scoffed. "If you could even call it that."
Corrow glanced downwards, folding his arms in his lap and uncomfortably shifted in his seat.
He decided to cut straight to the point, there was no point in drawing this out much longer than he needed to.
"I'm here because I believe I need to use your supercomputer."
Forrest raised an eyebrow. "You people are really getting that much desperate? You need to borrow my computer?"
It was Corrow's turn to shrug. "It's the best I can do to further this investigation."
Forrest scowled. "And why did you come to me? To rub it in my face that my son is dead? Is that it, detective?"
The detective placed his elbow on his armrest, and his fist on his jaw.
"I guess you could say that." He decided to take the cynical approach, leaning further back in his chair.
Forrest gaped for a long instant before his lips grew into a slight smile, curling his fingers into pistols and pointed them at Corrow.
"I like you." He conceded. "Allow me to take you to the mainframe."
Standing up, Forrest was already walking out the door, as if it was a signal for Corrow to hurry. Trailing behind him quickly, he followed Forrest through the next door.
This whole thing is insane. None of this should be happening. What Lane has been doing is extremely illegal, it is unbelievable.
And yet he managed to let it go off without a hitch.
Only someone insane should be able to mastermind this kind of plot. Who Clifford Lane before any of this? What kind of man was he before he killed Chris McLean? Before he entered the life of Damien Deveraux?
Was Lane always this evil person that we always see on television? Was he once good? Or is he the textbook example of the saying 'born bad'?
He wiped these thoughts out of his mind as he sat down in a swivel chair, facing a giant computer screen, implanted into the wall.
"I need to look into someone." Corrow told him, almost unaware that he was talking to a civilian about his job, but it doesn't matter. He has been stuck on square one long enough. "But, I don't have access to his file."
Forrest was only looking at his nails as he said this. "What's his name?"
"Jerome St. Clarence." He said it without any hesitation. Something that Forrest seemed to acknowledge, but decided to excuse it. After all, what is it that he could do on his own, anyway?
Turning his head to the ceiling, Forrest spoke, not to Corrow, but to his A.I. system. "Max, find Jerome St. Clarence in police files, please. Go around the roadblocks." He seemed to be half-joking on that last part, Corrow had to notice.
"Yes, sir." Was the response, and the computer flicked through what seemed to be hundreds of web pages in an instant, and ending on the police file Corrow so desperately needed to see.
'St. Clarence, Jerome, Elroy. Born July 17, 1991.'
"Jerome Elroy St. Clarence," Corrow found himself reading aloud, and mostly skimming over the document.
At the bottom of the page, he saw something that caught his eye so much more than anything else. He had met Chris McLean before.
He was the youngest judge in a figure skating show alongside Chris and two other judges. Of course, McLean quit soon after and joined the Total Drama Island project.
And now, only a few years later, it was that same show that had him killed, and his co-worker aboard this new show as well, and helping Lane kill these minors off, all one by one.
"You done yet?" An impatient Forrest asked with an irritated glare. "How is this guy supposed to help you find wherever that sadistic host is?"
Corrow didn't answer him, leaning back in the swivel chair and staring up at the screen. How long he remained silent he wasn't sure, as he slowly turned himself around. "I don't know."
"Wow, some help." Forrest claimed in a sardonic way, stepping away from Corrow, almost as if he wanted to get out of the room.
"Can I look at your son's audition tape?"
It was a question that neither of them had expected. Forrest seemed to freeze in place, and it was only understandable why he would.
"How would that help you, detective?" It was the same tone he used when he let him in the house. A tone that meant he wasn't welcomed, nor did it mean that he was wanted.
"If you want me to find Lane, then I think you should do what I ask of you."
The man contemplated. On one hand, there was so much more than a lethal injection he wished Lane would receive. A firing squad even. Something this asshole deserved. But on the other, what would this help for anyone?
Dylan was dead, and there is no way to change that?
Sure, Forrest could be quite the cold-hearted son of a bitch sometimes, but Lane took his boy from him. The most of anything he could ever ask is to see him burn in Hell for everything he did. Not just for him, but for everyone and anyone.
"Fine. But then you get the hell outta my house." The millionaire looked away from the screen, as though it was something he couldn't bare to watch. "Max, play the audition tape."
"Yes, sir."
And then, just like that, Dylan seemed that much more alive again. Like he never left. Like this whole situation never actually happened.
None of these kids deserved this, what made Clifford chose them? Only a complete psychopath could do this, kill these minors on television and broadcast it to the world for everyone to see, as if he wanted the parents to feel guilty that their kids were no longer apart of this world.
And it was all because of Clifford fucking Lane.
"Hello, producers." The architect had started, placing his hands on his desk and running the tips of his fingers over his blueprints.
"I believe that you should choose me among your next batch of contestants. Because when was the last time your show ever had a genius that wasn't a psycho, or a doll?
"Believe me, I know exactly how these people can function, and if I have to, I will exploit their weaknesses to cause a distraction if I have to. So please, consider me as your next pick."
With that, the camera shut off.
Oh, that poor boy. He had no idea what auditioning for this show was going to do. If only he did know. If only all of them knew.
"Alright, you saw it. Now get the fuck outta here."
The challenge would be ending soon. He knew it. He had to be quick, who knows when Clifford would come back.
He's been here only a few times. It was a large shack, and yet seemed to be able to fall apart at any moment. Even its doors were almost completely off the hinges.
Why it was like this doesn't matter, although he did have a few thoughts flow through his mind. Was it this continuing raging storm? Or was it just built this way?
Harvey stepped to the door quietly. If there was anyone inside, he would have to avoid them at all costs.
He cracked the door open just inches from its closed appearance. Nothing, no sound at all. No one was here.
Harvey exhaled in pure relief as he pushed himself into the hut, and discreetly shut the door behind him.
Quickly, he double-checked his surroundings, making sure there was no one inside this shack, Harvey snuck his hand into his pocket, producing a stethoscope, he walked closer to a safe.
He pondered for a moment. Why does this seem so easy?
No, he decided he didn't care and placed the stethoscope on the dial of the safe, and placing the other pieces in his ears, allowing him to slowly flip through this safe, and get that damn phone.
Two groups had been left. Daisy and Jace, and Alexei and Irina. Strange, isn't it? That they were the last groups? One has to think, what has been taking them this long to throw their partner off of them?
"You and Jade looked like you got along well." Timothy smiled.
Both he and his girlfriend were in his room. There wasn't anywhere they could go without being questioned by the others. Or, that was what their thoughts told them.
"Yeah." Was all Chloe had to say. She didn't know what to say. Her conversation with Jade brought her past to light, a past that she honestly wished she had forgotten.
Unfortunately for her, Timothy seemed to pick up on this, tilting his head in a concerning manner.
"What's wrong, Chloe?"
She seemed to hesitate, placing her hands in her lap as she twiddled her thumbs.
"Just...telling Jade all those things about me made me think of some not-so-great memories." She confessed. See, Chloe wasn't one to vent in front of others. She preferred to keep it to herself. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do?
She wasn't used to any of this. Chloe never had any friends back then, nor a real boyfriend. It was all new to her. Of course, she wasn't homeschooled, Chloe was very intelligent, but some people don't seem to realize that. Not even herself.
"Oh...I'm sorry." It was all he could say. He couldn't pressure her. That just isn't right.
"It isn't your fault. It's mine. I just made some decisions I wish I could go back on."
An idea seemed to strike Timothy. But what if she thought he was selfish? Should he keep it to himself?
Not if it helps her.
"Maybe talking about it will help?"
Chloe giggled, turning her head up at Timothy with a small grin. "What are you, a therapist?"
Timothy shrugged, though his smile didn't fade at all. It almost seemed like it grew even further.
"Well, being open with everything I thought, that's I wish I could change. Every time I did I just drove everyone around me away." She felt butterflies in her chest. "Except you."
Bittersweet.
"Is that a good thing?" He found himself asking, suddenly becoming unsure about himself.
"Of course it's a good thing!" She exclaimed. She was tempted to stand up and tackle him down in a hug. But, then again…
What's stopping her?
It was almost ironic.
Erica was back in the same place she was that morning, and not only in the same place, but the same position.
Lying on her back, and staring at the ceiling. Did she fuck it all up with Jade? Christ…
Hey, look at that. Dylan seems to be rubbing off on her.
A faint knock came at her door. It was almost a complete mimic of this morning. Including what she said next.
"Come in." She said in that same tone. It was almost like she and Jade would be doing this whole conversation all over again.
That was, if the person was Jade.
Emily shut the door behind her. If she hadn't been in here before, she would actually take to acknowledge the trophies on the shelf.
No, not this time.
This time, she has one goal alone.
But how would they start off this conversation?
"How did you get Timothy off of you?" She asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the bookshelf.
"I didn't." She answered, cocking her head to stare at the girl. For a moment, Emily looked shocked that Timothy managed Erica off the cuffs. That was, until Erica finished. "He pulled himself off."
"He quit?" Emily raised an eyebrow, although, no one would be able to see it.
Erica hummed in response, turning her head back up to the ceiling.
"So, why are you here?" She asked, there almost effort in her at not looking at her.
Emily produced the note she found, holding it close to her chest. "I know something was between you and Dylan."
"What?"
She seemed to have struck a chord. Erica turned her head to face Emily, only to see her holding a certain note close to her chest.
Pieces of a puzzle seemed to align in her brain as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her eyes drifting between both Emily's face and the note.
Internally, her heart was pounding, but she wouldn't let it get the best of her. Poker face. She had to keep it, otherwise Emily wouldn't get anything she wanted.
"It was you," Erica started, staring at Emily, and yet making no move to attack her. "It was you who killed Roxie."
Emily closed her eyes, rocking her head back, remembering how she did it. How easy it all was.
"Yes. I did." She answered her question, trying to stop herself from smiling.
"You evil bastard."
"I'm just doing what I have to do if I wanna survive." She shrugged slightly. "And enjoy myself doing it."
"Why're you here?" Her poker face fell completely, something Emily almost reveled in.
"Because if you don't do what I want, I will have to show this note to everyone left. And I know you don't want to leave poor Mickey all alone."
Erica found herself in worry, an emotion she hadn't usually found recently. At least, one she hadn't shown physically.
"And what's stopping me from ripping that note from your hand?" Erica asked, her eyes drifting once again from Emily's face, and to her hand.
"Because seeing that I have a black eye wouldn't look too good on you."
Erica found herself in utter disbelief. How could this have happened? What steps were taken for any of them to get to this moment in time.
She almost stumbled on the words she next spoke.
"Okay, I'll help you." She said it only with regret. But this wasn't something she had any power over.
"All contestants, please meet outside, all contestants." The loudspeakers voiced themselves. What did Clifford want?
"Well, this had to be the single most boring challenge ever." Clifford found himself frowning, looking between the two teams, both of them lined up in front of him.
"But, I'll have to congratulate the Vipers!"
There was silence. No cheering. But there was smiles, and none of them came from the Phoenixes.
"For losing!"
It was almost gut-wrenching. The hope he gave them, and then yanked it all back. Insulting, almost.
"We lost?" Eduardo asked, as though he couldn't believe it.
"Yes, Eduardo. You lost. So, you should probably settle on someone to vote for tonight." He smirked that same devilish smirk. His hand twisted on his umbrella handle, holding it as if it were a cane.
The rain had cleared only a little since the start of the challenge, the gray clouds beginning to dissipate.
"No, they won't." It was a voice no one had really recognized before. Not even Brendan. The only person who did was Clifford, and as he stood, he could only feel the cold metal of a gun barrel pointed at the back of his head.
"Harvey." Clifford smirked, holding up his free hand, signalling to his cameramen to lower their own guns. Seeing as how they followed their orders, Clifford turned around to face the Interpol agent, although his smirk never did fade.
"I was wondering when you would make your move." He almost laughed, remembering faintly to when he shot Dandy in the head.
"Where is Dandy?" It was Harvey's next question, almost mirroring Clifford's own thoughts.
"I shot him."
As all of this had been going on, the contestants all watched with hope as Harvey made his stand to the sadistic 'host'.
"You're lying!"
"Afraid I'm not."
Before anyone could further this conversation, Clifford's walkie-talkie buzzed to life with what sounded like St. Clarence's voice. A voice that almost made Hunter go insane just by hearing it.
Clifford shot Harvey a look that almost seemed as if he were asking to pick it up. His permission was granted.
"What's going on?" Alexei quietly asked Lizzy, who too wasn't sure what was going on.
"I don't know." She admitted, attempting to get a better view on what was being exchanged between the two.
Holding the walkie-talkie to his mouth, Clifford went on as if nothing was happening to him.
"Yes, sir?" He joked, removing his finger from the button.
"A call just came through."
"Is it important?"
"Yes. It is."
"Then what is it?"
"They're releasing Damien."
It was silent. Had the government finally given in to what he wanted? Finally!
"Repeat that?" Clifford asked, as if he was clarifying what he just told him.
"They're releasing Damien." St. Clarence repeated, much more slowly then the last time.
Lane dropped the walkie-talkie to his side, his evil smirk growing wider. He spun on his foot to face the remaining contestants, all of which seemed confused with what had just occurred.
"Good news!"
The Boeing CH-47 Chinook seemed to start to life, all of the remaining thirteen contestants slowly filing into the helicopter.
"We're free!" Chloe exclaimed to Timothy. They were so tempted to kiss again right then.
Brendan walked to Clifford's side as the teens slowly fit inside, and the door was shut. "Why don't we keep them?" Brendan asked, turning his head to Clifford as Harvey started the helicopter, the blades beginning to turn.
"I'm a man of my word." Lane replied. He wished he could see the faces of these guys when they figured out they were in the same chopper as ten dead bodies.
Little did they know, in Colorado, Damien Deveraux smirked as he straightened out his tie, beginning to walk from ADX Florence, to it's exit.
He was a free man once again.
He could tell that the guards weren't exactly pleased by this turn of events, but it wasn't exactly like they had any control over this..
Clifford did good. He got him free.
As Deveraux thought about what he could do in the future, it was to his horror that the sirens went off, and the front gates beginning to close.
"Prisoner escaping!" The intercom yelled, and the guards trained their rifles on Deveraux, threatening him to move.
Of course, he did move. And not in the direction they wanted.
He launched himself forward into a full blown sprint, throwing off his new suit jacket as it slowed him down.
His dreams of freedom were never met, however, as the guards began firing, their bullets slamming into Deveraux's back. Within moments, the arms dealer fell to the ground, his blood leaking from his wounds as his face paled.
Damien Deveraux was dead.
Clifford's bargaining chip...was gone.
The helicopter began to lift itself off the ground, its blades created a deafening roar. A roar so loud that it almost caused Clifford to fail to hear his walkie-talkie.
Almost.
The chopper hadn't gained enough air yet, and nor was it ever going to.
Clifford Lane opened fire on the chopper with a hatred, and Brendan followed suit.
Harvey attempted to steer them away from the incoming bullets, but it was too late. One of the stray bullets slammed into his chest, and another one lodging itself into his head.
But even with that, it didn't stop them from shooting it down. They only stopped was when they saw it start spinning out of control, the faint yells and screams from the thirteen alive contestants from inside could only just be heard.
"Stop firing!" Lane shouted. "We need the teens alive!"
Without much of a warning, the helicopter slammed into the dirt, skidding along the mud until it finally came to a stop, its front crashing into a tree, almost completely toppling it over.
Gasoline poured from the chopper's fuel tank into the grass as the rotor blades caught fire.
The metal cargo door only opened from the combined strength of Erica and Daisy, slipping into the fresh air, and making a mad dash from the helicopter.
Although Clifford couldn't see it, he could almost hear the contestants pushing past each other in the hopes of escaping the burning helicopter, and some of them climbing into the cockpit, punching out the windows, and crawling out.
The fire only seemed to get that much worse during this all, each contestant becoming more and more frantic to escape.
Finally, a certain girl scraped her knee on the broken glass, falling next to gasoline, and disconnecting her leg.
Groaning in pain, she attempted to crawl away, but it only proved useless as she took one last look at the burning helicopter, and saw that the gasoline and fire had connected.
"Oh fuck." Lizzy cursed, and it was the last thing she could say as she, along with the chopper, was blown into oblivion.
The explosion was so massive it had forced Clifford over and onto his back, and the only thought that went through his head was 'Well, that's one way to get rid of a body.'
And he was right. What had happened to the already ten dead bodies that had been loaded on board?
It doesn't matter.
"Well, Vipers," Clifford started, standing to his feet, and dusting himself off. The contestants could only watch as the helicopter continued to burn, its old color blackened, and loose metal all over the grassy floor. "I'd suggest you get to the execution cabin."
"What!?" Daisy exclaimed in a fury, taking her eyes off the massive fire. "Lizzy just got decimated, and we still need to vote for someone!?"
Lane nodded. "What happened just moments ago was a freak accident. She died between a challenge and execution, and was a part of the losing team, so yes, you still need to vote for someone."
The Vipers' scowled. Would one of them still have to die?
The tension was at its peak tonight. The events from earlier today had set in, and it gave them the worry that nothing would ever be 'fine' again.
"You have all casted your votes." Lane spoke as Brendan locked the doors. He spun the tray on his fingertips, staring at each remaining Viper member.
"The ones safe tonight are as follows…" He picked up the marshmallow, and squeezed it in his hand. "Alexei."
The hiker caught his marshmallow with a fearful shake. He wasn't going to die tonight.
"Emily."
The loner caught her marshmallow smoothly, attempting her best to look as fearful as the others.
"Daisy."
The girl scout caught hers out of the air, blinking her eyes, as though she wasn't sure if she made the right call.
"Eduardo."
The wannabe charmer caught his marshmallow, breathing slightly.
The fear scaled up by the hundreds as Chloe and Timothy both looked fearfully at each other. They were the last ones left, and one marshmallow on the platter.
Clifford enjoyed the looks on their faces, both of them literally shaking. Neither of them wanted to lose the other.
He decided it went on long enough, and tore the marshmallow in two. "Both of you."
They could hardly believe it. They were alive. They were alive.
"Smart." Lane spoke, handing over the marshmallow platter to Brendan as the back door opened behind him. "Lizzy received the most votes, which means none of you get to die today."
It was another cart that was wheeled in, but what was on it, no one wanted to see.
Jordan wheeled it around in front of Clifford, and stepped away, allowing the sadist to take in what was left of Lizzy's body.
Her legs and arms had been torn off in the explosion, and her body was burned to a literal crisp. Her skin had been burned off her face, leaving only bone, and the same with her hair.
She looked absolutely disgusting.
"Consider the rest of you lucky." Lane told them, examining the dead body further. "You could've ended up like this."
None of the contestants could look at the body, and especially not Clifford. All they could do was watch him as he left the cabin, and shut the door behind him.
"Well, wasn't this quite the turn of events? Old friends, new rivals? And it all ended up with one massive explosion? Well, find out the next person to become executed next time on Total Drama Zenith."