"Those poor kids, I bet they ran," said Sierra, thumbing through the paperwork in her hands. This stack of looseleaf was the only thing in the world that said for sure that they existed. "I bet they think the nightmare's over."

The words were bitter on her tongue because they were lies. She didn't bet that. Actually, she bet that all sixteen of the kids in this document were dead.

"It can be," said her employer. "I imagine they'll cooperate, once we find them. And we will find them, Sierra. We will."

The agent didn't reply to her handler. There was no point in voicing what she feared - if she was right, there was no point, to any of this.

Sierra thumbed through the stack. They'd never have the complete set - one was dead, that much had been confirmed, and the state had custody of the body. But fifteen were left. Surely, one of them was smart enough to make it out. To survive, wherever they were now. Heather could've done it. Or Noah, or Gwen, or any of them, back in her day. But Total Reform wasn't Total Drama. She had to keep telling herself that.

"McGrady's on his way up with him," said the executive. "You can expect a car within the next few hours. You're to lay low until then."

"Copy that."

A buzz told the executive that Sierra had hung up on him, which was against protocol, but inconsequential for the moment. Max set down his phone as the elevator across the executive suite dinged to life. He had never properly admired the office his new employers had provided him. It was a lovely industrial, cavernous suite. Not opulent, but glamorous in its way; and efficient to boot: no one would hear Chris screaming up here.

He pressed a button on his desk and said, "Standby," and for once his associate - not sidekick - didn't not argue. The elevator opened and McLean spilled out, tangled in gleaming stands of diamond. Max chuckled at the old Host and folded his hands pleasantly on the surface of his desk. He felt there was no need to bother with pleasantries.

"Bring him here, please," said Max to his subordinate, who strode out from the elevator. "Then go and fetch our other guest."

This was done without complaint and Chris was thrown about like a rag doll. It took him a moment for the world to spin back into focus. When it did, he found a dimly-lit room, and another familiar face leering down at him.

"You were a drunk little skunk when my friend found you, McLean," Max remarked childishly, as the older man tried to stand. The effort looked quite painful, or maybe that was the poison working its way out of his system. Max only chuckled again. "Good thing that she did, though," he continued, "who knows who else might've come along and… snatched you up. Just like you did with those ki- Look at me when I'm speaking!"

And Max clicked a button on his lapel, set on a tiny stickpin, and the diamonds encircling Chris lit like fairy lights with sharp flickering electricity. Chris moaned like a common beast as they erupted over his body, singeing holes through his clothes and along his flesh. He deserved as much.

"A little invention, courtesy of an old mutual friend of ours." Max said sharply, when he deemed that Chris had had enough. "A marvelous little gizmo. It's meant to turn you invisible, you see. I've been tasked with overseeing their production for our field agents. But that little number," he motioned at Chris, "is defective. Dear Sierra was kind enough to find a use for it-"

The grey-headed man was whimpering.

"What do you want from me, man," Chris managed, and Max had to restrain himself from mashing the button on his collar until the diamonds exploded. "I left, didn't I? I agree, it's fucked up. I do. But it's my dad's thing, not mine. I swear, don't know anything about what's happening…"

Max seethed when he saw, he was crying. How dare he cry? How dare Chris McLean be a mere man? How dare he sound human?

"No, of course you don't," cooed Max, cupping his own cheeks sarcastically, "You ran and you hid like a little rat, so how could you know of that… that atrocity?"

Yes, that was it. Atrocity, that's what it was. The Ephraim Atrocity.

"I called myself 'evil' as a child," Max went on, almost fondly. "I was a strange little boy back then, thinking that everyone wanted to be friends with a supervillain. And that's all I wanted, but look where it got me, well... Still, I was committed, wasn't I? And yet I couldn't see the real evil right in front of me. No, Chris McLean, not dear Scarlett, you."

Chris wanted to speak, to say something in his defense because he didn't fucking deserve this. Whatever was happening… Ephraim Ridge wasn't his fault. He felt his face being pulled up from the ground, not by Max, but by a new pair of hands which belonged to a thin woman with flaming red hair. Max was chuckling again.

"Speak of the devil," he remarked. "Now, McLean, I won't mince words with you. Your father has bitten off far more than he can chew. And I shudder to think of the trouble it's brought him. The contestants, the children," he added, and he gave Chris a quick, punctuating jolt, "are missing. Our Chair, my employer, can't have that. When my friend here has decided that she's done with you, you'll be brought back to me, so that we can talk."

"Man, I'm telling you," Chris was gasping now. "I'm telling you I don't know. If they ran, I don't know… where they could've..."

"Don't lie!" shrieked Max, cutting him off. He pointed a shaking, furious finger at Scarlett and said, "Certainly not to her. Take him away."

Scarlett clicked her fingers and Chris was hoisted into the air again, this time by two brawny suits who definitely hadn't been there a second ago. Diamonds were draped over their shoulders as well. "Marvelous technology," Max was saying. "Simply a beautiful display of ingenuity. Invisibility, who would have thought...?"

And Scarlett kept her face perfectly aligned with Chris' vision as he was dragged back into the elevator. He hadn't liked the ride up at all - there was no light inside. And up until the doors slid closed, Scarlett kept their eyes locked. She looked curious as she gazed upon his face with twitching hands, like she were trying to decide where to start.

Males:

1. Seneca "Snakeskin" Skinner, the Ghostwriter

2. Miles "Metal-man" Jackson, the Opportunist

3. Aster "Dice" Williams, The Gambler

4. River "Bleu" Thompson, The Prodigy

5. Dante "Redhead" Coleman, the Artist

6. Wayne "Rudolph" Kelly, the Gunslinger

7. Anton "Katz" Katstanovich, the Acolyte

8. Gaspar "Gaslight" DuPuy, the Observer

Females:

1. Edith "Edie" Ibero, the Missionary

2. Melissa "Sparky" Robinson, the Inventor

3. Sloan "Sketch" McCaffery, the Skater

4. Seraphim "Sera" Anne Wong, the Soldier

5. Aine "Sunlight" Kyteler, the Witch

6. Victoria "Keeps" Locke, the Hoarder

7. Eleanor "Nora" Mercer, the Brawler

8. "Ma-te" de los Santos, the Boulder

Thanks for your patience.

Solfeggio Kant