Blurry light; a shadow moved in front of her to the left...and then to the right. Words...distant...indistinguishable. Max's consciousness crept back slowly, her thoughts fuzzy and unfocused.
The room sharpened around her. Ceiling-high bookshelves lined the walls of the room and a large, sturdy desk sat nearby. Across from her, a large painting of a buck hung from the wall, partially obscured by a tall, balding, well-dressed man, his back turned towards Max.
This, Max thought, barely able to form the words in her mind, this...is...Sean Prescott's study. Has...to be.
It looked exactly as Beta Max's had described it in the journal.
But...why? she thought, what's...
Max squinted and shook her head, trying to clear her foggy mind. She tried to reach up to rub her eyes...but her hand didn't move. She frowned and tried again; nothing.
She looked down.
Thick leather bands held her wrists tightly against the armrests of a chair.
Max stared for a moment, her mind spinning, unable to comprehend. She tried to raise her hands, watching as her wrists strained against the bands. She could feel it now...a tight sensation, holding her down.
Her mind suddenly and violently cleared, her eyes widening and adrenaline rushing through her. She yanked her hands upward repeatedly, to no avail. She tried to kick outwards...but her legs encountered restraints as well.
Her breathing quickened and she twisted in the seat, unable to think. Tears welled in her eyes and the faint sound of a clicking camera trickled into her ears. She could almost feel a cold floor against her cheek...could almost see the flash of a camera. She could hear Jefferson's voice, a whisper in the distance...taunting.
She saw movement in front of her and then a voice, a real voice. But she couldn't focus on it, couldn't hear what it was saying. But it grew more intense, rising above the whispers and the clicking camera in her head.
"Miss Caulfield," it said.
She pulled against the restraints, gasping.
"Miss Caulfield!" the voice said again.
She twisted, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Miss Caulfield!" the voice shouted.
Max's eyes snapped open and she looked out in front of her. The sounds of the Dark Room died away, replaced with the sound of her heart pounding in her chest.
In front of her, on a wide TV screen, was the image of a man, a frown on his face and his brow furrowed...and he looked familiar. Her eyes were drawn to the side: the man she'd noticed earlier stood a few steps away from the screen, his expression blank.
"Miss Caulfield," said the man on the screen, drawing her attention back, "are you calm enough to speak?"
Max stared and her thoughts became even and quiet; she nodded.
"Good," the man said, sitting back and smiling, "I thought we might have to sedate you again. Your reaction was...far more intense than anticipated."
Max opened her mouth to speak but no sound emerged...her mouth was parched and she had to swallow a few times before trying again. The man on the screen simply watched.
"Who…," Max began before her own memory answered the question.
Sean Prescott, Max thought, eyes darting around the room again.
"Who am I?" Prescott said, a small smile on his lips.
Max shook her head.
"I am sorry, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said without a trace of remorse in his voice, "the sedatives were quite powerful. It may take some more time before you're...fully capable again."
Max stared intently at the screen before noticing the camera directly above it; she directed her stare to that instead. Prescott stared back at her.
Max attempted to rewind; but other than a brief flicker, nothing happened.
Fucking sedatives, Max thought.
She saw Prescott glance over to his right and he chuckled.
Max ignored him and glanced down at herself. They had her strapped to the chair tightly and had taken her hoodie. Other than that though…
Her eyes suddenly widened.
On her ankle, she could feel the small stones of the bracelet against her skin.
Wow, okay, Max thought, this is good...this is really good. Maybe, just maybe, it will let me rewind back to before we…
She sat up straight.
"Where's Chloe," she asked, her heart beating rapidly again.
Prescott nodded towards the man in the room, who walked silently over to a wall with a door and a dark window. He flipped a switch, illuminating a room on the other side of the window.
Max clenched her fists but also breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.
Chloe, strapped to an angled table on the other side of the window, blinked at the sudden light. She turned her head to look at Max, her eyes intense and her brow knotted in anger. A piece of duct tape stretched across her mouth.
"I would have preferred to allow Miss Price to speak during this, but her attitude was...very belligerent," Prescott said, "we didn't have to sedate her as heavily as we did you...and once she woke up, her invective became very...annoying."
Max managed a grim smile as she saw Chloe raise two middle fingers from under her wrist restraints.
"Well, now that you're both awake, we can move on to business," Prescott said, "I need you to perform a particular ritual for me, after which you will be free to go."
Max glanced at Chloe before glaring at Prescott.
What the fuck is he playing at? she thought.
"Across from Miss Price is a mechanism holding a gun," Prescott said, causing Max to jerk her head towards Chloe. Chloe rolled her eyes.
"The gun is aimed at Miss Price's head and will be triggered in...about ten minutes," Prescott continued, glancing over at something on his end.
"I won't let you kill her," Max said, her voice low and sharp.
"Miss Caulfield, I sincerely hope that you'll prevent Miss Price from being killed," Prescott said, "you see, the gun will go off in ten minutes if none of us acts. Should you open the door into that room, the gun will go off. Should you be selfish and attempt to escape at the cost of your friend's life, I will gas the room and you will both die."
Max's eyebrows raised and she glanced at the man in the room with her. He seemed surprisingly unperturbed by that statement.
Is Prescott bluffing? Max thought.
"So," Prescott continued, "you will have to be...creative in rescuing your dear friend."
"How am I supposed to do that?" Max said.
"I'm sure you'll find a way," Prescott said, waving his hand, "we will release your restraints before the time is up; the door into that room isn't locked."
"I don't get any of this," Max said.
"I need you to make me a storm, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said.
Max glanced at Chloe, who looked as confused as she felt.
"Um," Max said, "I think you've made a mistake, Mr. Prescott."
"I'm sure I have not...at least with this," Prescott said, "admittedly," he shrugged, "I have been wrong about other things. In the days leading up to the incident between Miss Price and my son, for instance, I was so certain that there would be a magnificent storm...a devastating storm," he chuckled, "I even thought I might be reading the signs wrong...but I checked again and again...always the same result. But then, despite telling Nathan exactly what he needed to do? Nothing. You didn't do it, Miss Caulfield; you didn't stop my son from shooting Miss Price. You should have...but you didn't."
Max stared, her expression blank and her mind whirling. Chloe glanced back and forth between Max and Prescott, her eyes wide.
What the fuck is going on? Max thought, how could he have possibly known that the shit that went down in the bathroom would cause a storm? How could he have known about any of that?
"After that, I despaired that you hadn't received a power at all," Prescott said, causing Max's eyes to widen again, "I thought that I would have to start from scratch...again...but then...my tools never lie and I discovered that you did have the power. I knew then that I'd have another chance. Of course, your power is very difficult to deal with," he sighed, "my misfortune to have to deal with someone who can rewind time..."
Max shared the briefest of panicked glances with Chloe.
"...but I have experience on my side," Prescott continued, "experience and resources. In the past I was foolish, trying random acts of sabotage and relying on luck to try to get what I needed. Opportunity slipped through my fingers more than once...and many years passed before another came. And through many failures, I've come to understand the importance of setting a careful trap."
"It was you...you called the board meeting to get classes cancelled," Max said.
"Good...very good, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said, "and I must confess to having a certain amount of pride in this accomplishment. Luckily for me, you and Miss Price tend to keep to yourselves...so by springing a weekday with no classes, it essentially ensured that you'd be off by yourselves. And so at each place you frequent, I had my people ready to take you. Expensive...but effective."
Fuck, Max thought, that explains the PI shit. And he knows about my powers...that's really not good...and he does know about the storms...and actually wants...wait...why the hell does he want a storm?
"Why do you want a storm?" Max said aloud.
"Well, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said, "there's the benefit of having much of Arcadia Bay leveled. Such destruction would allow me to buy the land at a considerable discount...and then redevelop it. A tremendous opportunity. But no, the real prize is in what comes with the storm. Something of far greater value than land and money."
Something that comes with the storm? Max thought, that letter in the cabin said something about power with the storms...is that what Prescott's talking about? Does he think he can get a power from the storm? And wait...back up a second...the bathroom…
"Wait, are you saying that you told Nathan to meet Chloe in that bathroom?" Max said, "that doesn't make sense; Chloe contacted Nathan about that."
She glanced over at Chloe, who nodded.
"Miss Caulfield, I knew what could happen and instructed Nathan accordingly to make it happen correctly," Prescott said, steepling his fingers, "I told him to bring the gun and to keep the safety off. I told him what to say, to never reveal that he had any foreknowledge of the event, and, as always, to never say anything about me," he smiled, "and I know that you interrogated him quite thoroughly with your tricks, Miss Caulfield. I'll admit I was nervous about that...but given your confusion, it seems that my son did not disappoint...this time."
"That still doesn't explain…," Max started.
"No," Prescott interrupted, "it doesn't. You see, Miss Caulfield, you and I are cousins, as it were."
Max tilted her head, thinking, huh?
"Perhaps you think that you're the only one in Arcadia Bay...perhaps the only one in the world...to ever receive the gift of a power?" Prescott said, leaning forward.
Max felt a chill rattle down her spine.
"The power that you receive is...how to put it...related to your essence. The natives came up with a nice little pantheon of animals for it. Primitive...but useful," he said.
Max glanced at the painting of the buck and her eyes widened.
No, she thought.
"You see, Miss Caulfield, I had a premonition of what would happen in that bathroom, down to the last little detail," Prescott said, "I saw the confrontation, heard my son and Miss Price argue, and saw you, after your very first use of your power to rewind time, smashing in a fire alarm with a hammer to prevent Miss Price's death. And, of course, you had no idea what you'd triggered with that action."
He chuckled as a terrible empty feeling settled into Max.
"I can see the future, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said, "and you see now how you and I are related."
Fuzziness seemed to descend upon Max's mind again. She glanced briefly over at Chloe and saw horror reflected in Chloe's eyes. Max slumped back into the chair, her wrists limp against the restraints.
If he can see the future, Max thought, then there was never anything we could do...we could never fool him, never get around him, never sneak…
Max's head snapped up. An image popped into her head: the writing in her journal, scrawled with excitement by her previous self describing the raid into Prescott's house.
He didn't see that coming, Max thought, he had the guards start searching the house after Chloe and Beta Max had already broken in...and...and he didn't stop them from interrogating Nathan, even though he was worried about it...this doesn't add up.
She stared at the camera above the screen and said, "I don't believe you."
"Oh?" Prescott said, raising an eyebrow.
"It doesn't add up," Max said, "you said you were worried about Nathan cracking and yet you didn't stop us from interrogating him. So you didn't know we were going to do it. And...you didn't see how things actually turned out in the bathroom. I didn't touch a fire alarm; I didn't do anything in there. Nathan got arrested and so did your friend, Jefferson. This is all crazy talk."
Prescott laughed.
"Ah, Miss Caulfield," he said, "you are very clever. It's always the clever ones that get the powers. Good for you; unfortunate for me. You are half right. I did have the power. Oh yes, I did. It took enormous effort to use...but I could see how things would turn out. Over time I learned how to use it carefully...to see things that I wanted to see and then work to change those things. And with the resources at my disposal, changing the future was never difficult. But over the past few months, my power has faded sharply. I still see glimpses of the future...but not with the control or clarity I had before. But I've had other tools at my disposal, Miss Caulfield, because I learned early in my life that you cannot rely on one skill...one property...one person...you must diversify."
"Why did you lose your power?" Max said.
If I can just keep him talking, maybe I can figure something out...like I did with Jefferson...if only I had some photos in front of me, Max thought.
"You know, it is delightful to finally speak to someone who knows of these things," Prescott said, smiling, "as for my loss, I believe it is temporary. A period of dormancy, I think, after a long struggle. You see, none of us would be here right now had I succeeded in my previous effort. Unfortunately, my quarry had the same power as I. And oh, she was gifted. She received her power naturally. It makes a difference, I think. I received mine from...well, it was a different kind of gift."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "this contest, between her and I...it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Her raw strength against my experience and resources...and such raw strength. It took some time for her to realize what was happening. You see, I was making minor adjustments to the future, trying to guide her into...a situation like this. Had she figured it out sooner, I am certain she would have overwhelmed me. And although Miss Amber was able to use her power more often and for longer than I could, she did not have the subtlety and the finesse that I did...or so I thought."
Max's thoughts seemed to grind to a complete halt. She looked over to Chloe, whose eyes were wide with disbelief. Chloe looked at Max and shook her head.
She doesn't believe him, Max thought.
"We don't believe you," Max said, "Chloe knew Rachel."
"You really aren't the trusting sort, are you?" Prescott said, "that's a good trait to have, Miss Caulfield. But I assure you it's true...I have no reason to lie. And of course Miss Price didn't know. Once Miss Amber realized what I was attempting to do, she...how can I put this...spread herself thin. She could easily see the broad strokes of the future and knew that I would attempt to harm the person closest to her in an effort to force her to use her powers to save that person. She was very clever...very clever. It was so like a game of chess with her. And in the end, when I finally had her cornered, she did what I never would have expected."
Prescott paused, his face looking tired.
"She plucked her king from the board, as it were," he said.
"What do you mean?" Max said quietly.
"She found a way to die," Prescott said, "and I didn't foresee it. She had me so focused by then on Mr. Bowers and Miss Price that I never considered the key piece of the puzzle. She hammered my premonitions with different scenarios, all of them focused on other people...I never saw how exactly she did it. And everything was in place," he sighed, "everything. Nathan and Jefferson would take her for their little art project...and then after, while she was still sedated, I would take her here. I had Mr. Bowers and Miss Price under surveillance and could take them at a moment's notice. And then Miss Amber died. Incredibly frustrating."
Max clenched her fists; she looked over at Chloe, who strained against her restraints, tears streaming down her face.
"Why would Rachel do that?" Max said, her voice low.
Prescott paused and Max had the distinct impression that he was thinking very carefully about what he would say...and she was reminded of Beta Max's description of Nathan doing the same when they'd interrogated him.
"I do not believe that Miss Amber was fully aware of what I was attempting to do," Prescott finally said, "I believe that she thought I would kill Miss Price or Mr. Bowers when, of course, I had every intention of ensuring that they would be rescued. After all, my goals would not be accomplished otherwise."
He smiled and Max saw the haughty, predatory smile of his son there.
"Now, Miss Caulfield, would you do me a favor and attempt to rewind?" Prescott said.
"Fuck you," Max said.
"That's not very polite, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said, frowning, "I think you've been absorbing too much of Miss Price's personality."
Max saw Chloe raise her middle fingers again.
"That's correct, Mr. Prescott," Max said.
"Very well," Prescott said, sighing; he reached off screen.
Max opened her mouth to speak but heard the muffled sound of a gunshot from the other room. She didn't dare look and immediately rewound instead.
Max stopped the rewind, her heart aching.
I let Chloe die again, Max thought.
"...my goals would not...ah," Prescott said, glancing to the side, "I see that you just rewound...excellent...excellent."
Max glared at him, anger flaring in her chest.
"From your expression, I'm guessing that I had to persuade you," Prescott said, smiling.
Max looked over at Chloe, meeting her eyes and trying to say, I'm sorry with her own eyes. She turned back to Prescott.
"Well then, why don't we continue?" Prescott said, "but before we get to the main event, I have a few questions for you."
Max clenched her teeth.
"How far can you rewind?" Prescott said.
"That's none of your business," Max said.
But...interesting that he doesn't know that, Max thought.
"Now now, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said, "I would prefer not to have to persuade you again."
Max's eyes hardened but the gunshot echoed in her mind.
No, she thought, never again.
"Fine," she said.
She glanced over at Chloe and saw Chloe shaking her head.
I'm sorry, Chloe, Max thought, but being defiant is only going to keep getting you shot...and I'm not going to do that. Besides, I have my rewind...this isn't over yet. She gave Chloe a small smile and Chloe's eyes narrowed briefly before she gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"I will know if you're lying," Prescott said.
"Really?" Max said, her voice toneless.
Prescott laughed and said, "no, I suppose not. But, I know that there are limits to your powers...that if you rewind to perfect a lie, the attempts will cost you. I also know that you cannot rewind past the point where you were unconscious or you would have done so already. That was a gamble that I took and the reason for keeping you sedated longer."
"Fine," Max said again, "I can rewind only a few minutes...less than fifteen at most."
Technically true...sans bracelet, Max thought.
"And what happens if you attempt to rewind further?" Prescott said.
"Are you writing a research paper or something?" Max said, proud to channel her inner Chloe.
"Curiosity, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said.
"I'm glad that I can help," Max said dryly.
"Thank you...now please answer the question," Prescott said.
"If I try to rewind further my head hurts like hell and I get nosebleeds," Max said.
"Yes, yes," Prescott said, "the same symptoms as when I look into the future."
Max simply stared.
I wonder if I can do what I did with Nathan, Max thought, start asking him some questions and...but if he can tell when I rewind…
Prescott opened his mouth to speak but Max decided to try something. She rewound, going back to the same point where she'd stopped before.
"...my goals would not...ah," Prescott said, glancing to the side, "I see that you just rewound...excellent...excellent."
Max narrowed her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"What are you smiling about?" Prescott asked, leaning towards his screen.
"Nothing...nothing at all," Max said, rewinding again before he could respond.
She stopped.
"...my goals would not...ah," Prescott said, glancing to the side, "I see that you just rewound...excellent...excellent."
Aha, Max thought, his toy tells him when I've used the power...but not how many times.
She allowed the conversation to continue as it had up until when she rewound originally. Then, before Prescott could ask his next question, Max interrupted.
"I have a question for you," Max said, "what's in the storm for you? What will you get?"
"Ah, Miss Caulfield, you're being clever," Prescott said.
Max tilted her head.
"You're undoubtedly rewinding and asking me all sorts of different questions...trying to find someway to get me to reveal some secret," Prescott said, "but I have no intention of telling you much of anything beyond what I have on a list in front of me; it's how I trained Nathan. He memorized what was on a list...nothing beyond that was to be discussed under any circumstances. And like I said, I'm sure there are only so many times you can rewind before it starts becoming...unpleasant. In a game of attrition between you and I, I will win."
He smiled his predatory smile and Max glared.
Well, shit-head, you don't know about my ankle jewelry, Max thought, I can play this game for a long time and you'll have no fucking clue.
"So, now that we have that out of the way," Prescott said, tilting his head towards the man in the room.
The man walked over and released the straps holding Max in place. She rubbed her wrists and remained seated as the man walked back to where he was before.
"Just a few more questions," Prescott said, sitting back and steepling his fingers, "do you have any other abilities?"
"Like what?" Max said, feeling a little nervous.
Prescott smiled and said, "I can see there's something there."
Max sighed and rewound. It took her a few tries before she could convincingly deflect the question...
"...do you have any other abilities?"
"I fucking wish I did," Max said, "like being able to teleport out of here...or conjure a cactus in your butt."
Movement to her right drew Max's eyes...despite everything, Chloe was laughing behind the tape over her mouth.
"Very funny, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said.
A sudden thought occurred to Max.
"Mr. Prescott, you do realize that you've kidnapped us, imprisoned us, and threatened us," Max said, "what's to keep us from going to the police and taking you down?"
Movement drew Max's eyes again: Chloe stared over at her with her eyes wide. Max guessed that Chloe was attempting to say something like, why the fuck are you asking that? He'll fucking shoot both of us!
"That's a very good question, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said, "first of all, it really won't matter in the slightest to me even if you did …"
What the hell does that mean? Max thought.
"...and, I have some measure of insurance that you will stay quiet," he said, flipping a switch.
The image of Prescott disappeared, replaced with the green, grainy texture of night vision. The footage showed a path in a well manicured lawn and, after a few moments, a pair of figures snuck by; Max's heart sank. They were, unmistakably, her and Chloe. The view then shifted to a hallway, again showing her and Chloe carefully creeping along. The screen changed back to Prescott.
"It seems that someone told you that the path through the backyard is unmonitored...and that the inside of the house is as well," Prescott said, "my guess would be the Chase girl...I'd hoped that Nathan would find less...independently-minded companions. But you couldn't possibly think that I would leave such a blind spot. Video of that particular path, plus several locations within the house, are recorded onto a flashdrive in the room you're in now. This one here contains the evidence of your trespassing," he held up a USB stick, "easily retrieved and easily destroyed if necessary. So, Miss Caulfield, as far as this kidnapping is concerned, my story is that you were caught trying to break into my house again. The police do not look too closely when it comes to the Prescott family."
Max's shoulders fell. Chloe and Beta Max had been so sure that they'd gotten away with it...and yet this whole time, Prescott had known...and had evidence to hold it over them.
"Another question: do you know of anyone else with powers?" Prescott said.
It took another pair of rewinds for Max to convincingly lie.
"And do you have in your possession any Native American artifacts from this region?" Prescott asked.
It took a few more rewinds for Max to convincingly lie about that one as well.
"Last question for you, Miss Caulfield. And it is about these," Prescott said, nodding to the man in the room.
Max felt a sense of defeat clawing at her. On the one hand, Prescott's promise to let them go held some water...since he could effectively blackmail them. But on the other hand, Max didn't trust him at all. And if he was right, Arcadia Bay would be flattened...or at least seriously damaged, by the storm she'd seen in her vision.
Max glanced over as the man in the room picked something up. She started to turn away but snapped her head back around. The man had lifted Max's messenger bag from a corner and was reaching into it.
Max held her breath.
He pulled out a tall stack of photos and tossed them onto the desk.
Max looked over at Chloe. Chloe stared back, her eyes wide.
Of course...he has no idea what those photos are for, Max thought, a feeling of glee positively gushing inside, he has no idea that I can use them. Hell, who would guess that you could use a photo to travel through time?
Max tried to contain her excitement, forcing a frown and glancing between Prescott and the desk.
"You have this collection of photographs in your bag, all with dates and times marked on them," Prescott said, "and according to Nathan and Mark, this is not typical of your photography. What is the meaning of these images?"
Okay, Max thought, I need a way to buy some time to look through these photos...some excuse to search and figure out what I'm going to do.
She stood up and stepped over to the desk before looking back over at the camera.
She reached the desk and looked back over at the camera.
"These are for a project," Max said, "I started it after…"
"I don't believe you," Prescott interrupted.
Max immediately rewound back to what she was referring to as her reset point...and went through the laborious process of repeating everything up to when the man grabbed the photos.
Immediately, Max said, "wait! Be careful with those!"
The man paused with the stack in hand and glanced at Prescott.
"Go ahead and place them on the desk," Prescott said before turning to Max, "now why should he be careful with those, Miss Caulfield?"
"They're for a project," Max said, "I'm capturing singular moments...random moments...and marking them in time. I decided to do something different from what...Jefferson had been teaching us. I suppose you can understand my theme."
Please go for it, Max thought, I do not want to go through all of that shit again.
"Yes, yes, I can understand that," Prescott said, waving his hand dismissively, "and I suppose I should apologize for the hiring of such a pompous psychopath as Blackwell's photography teacher; I really did believe it was necessary."
Wait, what? Max thought, her blood running cold.
"What do you mean?" Max said.
"I knew of Mark's hobby," Prescott said, "it took some careful arranging on my part to meet with him and pledge my support for his work. It certainly helped that Nathan has a morbid artistic interest; I knew that they would develop a close bond and I encouraged it. You see, I believe that powers are granted only through some amount of trauma to the subject. And my research seemed to indicate that young women with strong artistic inclinations were most likely to gain powers. And so by supporting Jefferson's use of Blackwell students as models for his project, I believed that the chances of triggering powers would rise substantially. And if not, Jefferson had promised that his process would leave no lasting harm and that his subjects would remember nothing. And my premonitions confirmed that."
"Tell that to Kate Marsh," Max said darkly, standing with her fists clenched and stepping towards the desk.
"Ah yes, unfortunate, that," Prescott said with a cold smile, "it seems that Mark began slipping on his chemical compositions. Overconfidence...overconfidence that Miss Amber had already taken advantage of. But yes, Mark was my factory for powers, if you will. Unfortunately, his output was zero. Without him though, it would have been a little more difficult to get you here."
Max stopped and turned, taking in the sneer on Prescott's face.
He's enjoying this, Max thought, toying with us and feeding us bits and pieces of whatever he has written on his scrap of paper.
Max waited.
"You see," Prescott finally continued, "I reviewed each and every Blackwell scholarship application. Well...the art ones, that is. When I came across yours, I knew you were the young woman I'd seen in an early version of my premonition...someone I knew would receive a power. I ensured, through Jefferson, that you would be granted a photography scholarship."
Max's heart sunk; she could almost feel Chloe staring at her, urging her to ignore it, to not believe it.
He's trying to keep you unfocused...off-balance, a part of Max thought, he could be lying.
But another part of Max thought, maybe I've been right all along...maybe my work isn't that special. Chloe doesn't know much about photography...how could she say with any authority that my photos are any good? And Warren? Same. And Jefferson was just trying to get me under his umbrella. And Victoria? I...I guess maybe she was just wrong.
She reached the desk and gazed over the pile of photos, her eyes settling on a photo of her couch.
Not my best work, Max thought, recalling how she felt when she first saw her emergency photos, but hell...maybe my work is like this: just...mediocre. And...me too...mediocre...despite everything I've tried...despite all of the clues, despite having a fucking superpower, here we are, stuck in Prescott's house...and what will I fuck up if I go back? What if everything has just been manipulated from the beginning?
She glanced up at Chloe. Chloe's blue eyes stared back at her. Determination stared back at her. Trust. Max clenched her fists.
Dammit, if Chloe can still be fighting when she's tied up with a gun pointed at her head, why am I standing here moping? That's not acceptable, Max thought, if Chloe's still fighting, I need to fight for her too. I can't let this asshole win.
She looked back down at the photos.
"Well?" Prescott said, "something the matter, Miss Caulfield?"
Max heard the laugh in his voice and clenched her fists tighter.
I need some excuse to go through these and think, Max thought, some excuse to…
She saw a photo poking out from the group, blurry and nearly unrecognizable.
Max's photographer brain asserted itself momentarily, a disgusted ugh echoing through her mind. And then it gave her an idea.
"What are you playing at, Prescott?" Max said, stepping forward and scattering the pile out over the desk.
"I...what?" Prescott said, his eyes widening.
"I said: what are you playing at? Some kind of mind games? What's the fucking point?" Max said, her eyes darting from photo to photo.
Where's the one from earlier today? Max thought, I could go back and warn us.
"What...what are you talking about?" Prescott said.
"Only some of these are my photos," Max said, somewhat surprised at how easily the lie came...until she recalled that, technically, she hadn't taken all that many of them.
"What?" Prescott said.
"This one," Max said, pointing to a particularly poor shot of a window, "and this one and this one." She pointed at more, all of them ones that her or Beta Max had clearly taken without inspiration.
Prescott seemed at a loss for words, his fingers tapping rapidly against the arm of his chair and his brow furrowed. That was fine by Max, who continued looking until she saw the blurry photo again.
She leaned in, noticing that it appeared to be a photo of the top of a desk...and it matched the color of the desk beneath it.
Her eyes widened.
Of course, Max thought, Beta Max was so pissed about this that she wrote it in the journal: she accidentally took a blurry-ass photo of Sean Prescott's desk. This might be the key...because if I just go back and warn us, that only delays Prescott and could make him less predictable. But if I can go back to this room and somehow get into his stuff? Maybe sabotage the gun? The doors? And speaking of keys…
Max glanced quickly around the room. Beta Max had written that everything in the room had been buttoned up tight. But if there was an open drawer or...
There! she thought. A small blue book had been taken off of a shelf and was lying open. She stepped towards it.
"Where are you going, Miss Caulfield?" Prescott said suddenly.
"I'm curious about your book collection," Max said, continuing.
"Return to where you were, Miss Caulfield," Prescott said, "now!"
"Do you have any books on photography?" Max said.
She reached the small blue book and grabbed it.
A gunshot rang out. Max clenched her teeth and tears filled her eyes but she didn't look away, lifting the book and looking inside: there were no pages, only an empty cutout.
She immediately rewound to her reset point and repeated everything up to her lie about the photos. She quickly found the blurry desk photo and let out a breath.
Remember what you and Warren figured out, Max thought, only small things; don't make huge changes...keep it simple, get information.
She focused on the photo and flew into the past.