Disclaimer: I do not own Future Diary or any of the various references mentioned.
Blood still trickled down slowly from Drew Piper's gun wound. She breathed in exasperated breaths through clenched teeth and limped to a large, semi-leafy tree that stood out behind an empty gas station. Drew was trained in treating wounds like this, so she wasn't worried. Plus, her Dead End hadn't been prophesied. Thankfully.
After the meeting today, something finally clicked inside her fogged up brain. While she knew of the rules, it never occurred to her that she would have to kill eleven other people. This game would definitely try her skills and her intelligence. That little brat and his friends, one of which had a freaking gun, had proved to be MUCH more of a challenge than originally expected.
Drew reached into her pocket and pulled out her Diary- The Head Start Diary, that she didn't entirely begin to comprehend, still had no messages. She scrolled over to send a text to her boss to ask for a larger pay. Those kids were armed and dangerous. They had only shot her hand but next time she might not be as lucky, but that's what she was for... right? Drew buried her face into her good hand and sighed deeply. Some assassin...
"Thank goodness." A silky voice whispered into the chill of the autumn air. Footsteps could be heard crunching in fallen leaves. A shadow that stood a mere 4'5 feet high inched closer. Drew rolled her Siberian blue eyes. It was probably just a kid... Out walking around at five o'clock in the morning? Something seemed wrong. A sense of danger fluttered up her spine. She let her injured hand fall to her side. It had stopped bleeding temporarily. Drew slid her bad hand to her diary, the other to her knife.
The shadow came into her viewing range. It was a boy no younger then eleven. He had tears streaking down his cheek and his nose was running. He had the faintest trace of pink etched onto his frail looking face- Porcelain. The moonlight echoed off of his stark white, shaggy hair. Drew could practically see herself glaring back defensively in his violet eyes. The sense of danger left abruptly and it left a sense of empathy. His face seemed to be pleading and searching.
"I, I, can't," The boy sniffled. "Plea-"
Drew stood up and ran her fingers through her matted hair and picked out a remaining twig from the run over. "Can I help you with something?" The boy stared back, startled. She had huffed that out so quickly, she even surprised herself a little. Drew slid her diary into the top of her brown, knee length boots.
"Can you help me?" he gazed up warmly at her, his eyes flickering like fire. They seemed to be brimming with optimism. The strangest thing happened. When she opened her mouth to answer, she saw a young girl that resembled someone she knew... Somehow. Long, straight brown hair, blue eyes that reflected every felt emotion. The girl smiled almost pitifully, a small, blue, stuffed dog lying in her crossed arms. Her clothes were ratty and were worn with holes. But the girl looked, happy? Strange... She felt nostalgic and her head felt even foggier then it did before. Who was she? And what did this boy, standing here bring up these odd, er, memories? Drew wasn't sure what to call this.
She shook her head erasing the girl. Out of sight, out of mind. "What can I do for you?" Drew whispered as to not scare him or herself again. It was chilly out. The wildlife purred peacefully, almost like they were watching this quiet exchange.
The boy reached for her good hand and squeezed. "I'm lost. Can you help me find someone? The boy's eyes yearned for listening. The wind whistled through the ghostly thin branches of the nearby trees.
Drew nodded, slowly. She smiled softly and squeezed back. "Yeah. I can."
An unfamiliar sound rang through the night air like a siren song.
Beep Beep
Drew slid her Diary half out of her pocket, just enough to see the screen. The screen was dim from earlier. The noise was startling because she always kept her sound off. Why would it go off now? Drew's eyes darted to its screen. Haunting words stood on her once clear, white screen. Drew's mouth gaped open.
"Is there something wrong ma'am?"
10:10 AM Dead End- Electrocution
Chapter 2
The World's Most Shocking Monsters
Robin watched as steam from his vanilla latte, that Spencer had gotten for him, rose into the air and evaporated instantaneously. Spencer sat across from him flipping through an Elle magazine. She tapped her French manicured nails to a pair of patent leather heels by some designer that Robin had never heard of. The early morning sun streamed in through the plate glass windows.
"I just adooore these." Spencer explained, clicking her tongue. "What do you think?"
"Their cool." Robin muttered, his attention elsewhere (Not that he particularly cared in the first place). The only thing he knew about shoes, aka this conversations life source, was that girls liked them for some unknown reason. And that one pair of Converse weren't appropriate for all occasions. Too many damn rules. Again, he would never understand girls.
"Now, go fourth and win!" Yuki's words reverberated through his mind like a pinball machine. How did he expect this to all happen? Robin remembered the peculiar sense of irony infused in his words that only he could detect. Not only did he have to kill eleven other human beings, but two of them were his friends- all to become God? It seemed as cruel to him as sending a dog into a biscuit factory and clipping a shock collar to its neck, so that every time it went outside of its predetermined boundary, it would send him straight back to where he was before- a miserable depressing corner. This whole 'game' disgusted him.
It was nine o'clock on Thursday morning, and Robin and Spencer were sitting inside the cozy, overly-priced, French inspired cafe, Le Chet Fous waiting for Mona, who was currently MIA. Because of the previous day's events, the three had agreed to form an alliance to try to gain an upper hand in this battle royale. It was Mona's idea to meet up to discuss the plans, but she was late- again.
"Robin are you even listening to me?" Spencer said, tapping the shoes again.
Spencer bunched her ash-blonde hair and gathered it into a ponytail, securing it with a large, sky blue butterfly clip. When she wasn't busy blabbing away about fashion or school, she was actually sort of cute. He thought he detected a hint of mango and guava combing from her over the faint coffee smell that wafted around the room. Mango and guava was his favorite scent and taste. The scent made Spencer seem less planned and calm and almost simple, something he was pretty sure she never was. Spencer was the girl that would whine about not studying for finals and would end up getting the best grade in class plus finding a hundred dollar bill on the street and would turn it in only to find that no one had claimed it. He could almost taste the sweet and savory of the two fruits combined, in an explosion of flavor. The last time he had tried them was when he went to Brazil with his mom and dad two years ago for summer vacation. He'd do anything just to do that all over again. It made him feel awkward to think of past memories like that. All of a sudden, Spencer's perfume seemed bitter to him. He preferred her usual Coco, designer, super-genius, cookie cutter Spencer.
"Um, hello?" Spencer waved her hand in front of Robin's face.
"S-Sorry." Robin stammered.
"I get the feeling you haven't been listening." She closed her magazine.
"No I have." Robin said reassuringly even though he hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention. Every time he had tried to listen to her, his brain wandered to more pressing topics. Like the clincher of a death match that he was now in or that his mother was overseas possibly negotiating with terrorists, unbeknownst to her.
"Have you heard anything from Mona yet?" Spencer asked in between sips of her caramel macchiato.
Robin reached into the pocket of his denim jeans and pulled out his diary. No new messages. An air of relief. The only messages that could be seen were just of local news and common misplacings'. Nothing of importance or death predictions. Robin let out a sigh that he had apparently been holding for a while.
"Nope."
Spencer opened her mouth to speak but then shut it.
Robin looked at her in curiosity. "What?"
Spencer broke off a tiny piece of chocolate dipped biscotti and placed it into her mouth. "It's nothing. Probably not the best time."
A cat clock hanging on the cream colored wall swung back and forth several beats. Robin counted six. "You can tell me. I-if you want to."
"It's just that," Spencer paused to recollect her thoughts, pursing her red glossed lips. "What do you think of Mona?"
Robin blinked. "What do you mean, 'What do I think of Mona'?" He ran his fingers through his jet black hair.
Spencer dabbed at the corner of her mouth. "It's just that I don't know what to think of her. That's all." She waved her hands in front of her face smiling. "I didn't mean anything by it."
Robin nodded casually. He guessed that she was just as concerned about this ordeal as he was. It was frightening to say the very least. He didn't blame her for questioning Mona. Boredom did always cause the mind to wander aimlessly.
Robin stood up stretching his arms and walked over to the counter. "Do you, by chance have any crayons?"
A red headed waitress with freckles sprinkled across her face, gave him a dumbstruck look but still reached into the podium and handed him two packets of crayons. Robin could see Spencer leaning over, trying to listen, out of the corner of his eyes. "Thank you!" He turned and proceeded back to their red cushioned booth.
"What was that about?" Spencer asked crossing her arms. Robin handed her a bundle and a napkin from the dispenser. She shot him a look that could've melted the polar caps.
Robin held his hands up in defense. "I just thought that while we were waiting, we could draw. It beats staring at each other."
"Yeah I guess." She dug her nails into the plastic. Three colors, red, blue, and yellow, fell onto the table with a small thud. She bit her lip. "What should we draw?"
"Hmm," He had never thought about that. "Give me a minute."
"You know, you're unusually talkative." Spencer pointed out with her red crayon.
"Maybe I'm always like this." Robin shrugged. He could feel her eyes him.
"Psh. I highly doubt that."
Robin's head shot up. Her face was smirking, however her expression was hard to read. She plucked a blue crayon that was lying in front of her drink. She began scribbling on a picture of that one girl that seemed to be all over everything. "I never asked you," she began. "About this forming a team and what not."
"Mmhmm." Robin said a little too quickly. "I guess it's better for us to work together then hate each other right?"
"Interesting." Spencer nodded and moved her hand to her chin. Her eyes gleamed but then turned serious. "Would you kill your friends, if it meant making your wishes come true? Say bringing back your father?"
Smoke from outside drifted in as the door opened. It made his stomach roil. Robin swallowed. She was trying to mess with him. He would give anything to see his dads face again. If his father were there, his mother wouldn't have to work so hard. Life would be the same again. But... Killing another life would be pointless. Losing a life to get back a life... He would never wish this suffering upon anyone. "And what if I'm not?" He challenged meekly, picking at the wrapper of a yellow crayon.
Spencer stared back fiercely. "Could you die for someone?" The words rolled out of her mouth so nonchalantly, Robin almost forgot their sinister depths.
"That's a tough question." Robin said looking down at the checkered table cloth. He fiddled with the napkin between his legs. Spencer was scribbling something down, waiting for his answer. He honestly didn't know if he could die for someone. "So far the questions you've asked me are synonymous. Could you die for someone and could you kill your friends if it meant fulfilling your wishes? Both would leave someone alone. If you killed for life, wouldn't that be counterproductive?" Robin looked up to see Spencer's expression unchanged. It was still icy. The way she drew, looking up every now and then, made it look like she was trying to distance herself from her own provoking questions. What was her true intention?
"Hmm," Spencer stuck out her lip. "That's a well thought out answer. I think there's something you need to realize before you can understand those words." She paused, but a response from Robin would have ruined it. "You seek eternal breath, that's why you are in this Game, but why do you want to live? No matter your intentions, pure or evil, nothing can change if you die here. Becoming God is an elaborate plot for becoming evil. That's why you need to figure this out as soon as possible. Whose side are you on?"
Robin shivered in his seat. Her inhaled through his nose with his fists clenched. Spencer's intentions were to help him see reality. The truth is that he wouldn't win but he would sure would try. Robin lifted his head slowly. "After my dad past away, I became depressed. I understand that I can never bring him back, which was what got me into this mess in the first place. I want to live to change my fate. I want to see my mothers face smile again. I want to help those like me. I may not be strong or smart but everything will go right for me. If it means saving a life, then I will dial back all my pain. Now, back to you. Why did you come here? If its as you say, then its possible to overcome the impossible. That's why I'm here. I want to live." Robin found himself at a loss of breath. His sudden words had surprised both of them.
"Wow." Her face twisted into a wry then genuine smile. "I guess I made a good choice then." She moved her left hand which was covering her drawing. It was a boy. Robin wasn't surprised that it was good. After all she was perfect.
"In what?" A line appeared between his eyebrows as he scrunched them.
Upon closer inspection, the boy had messy hair colored with blue. His eyes were victorious, glowing with a red flame. He was seated on large, yellow outlined throne. It was exceptional for being drawn in under a minute with three crayons. A realization struck him. Spencer had drawn him. There was even a faint scar in light red on his left cheek. He had gotten it when he fell down a hill when he was snowboarding with some friends over winter vacation, three years ago. It was like she had been watching him this whole time. It felt, wrong somehow.
"In my love."
Author's Note: So. This made me laugh.
"Robin are you even listening to me?" Is not correct according to my laptop. The correct version is: "Robin is you even listening to me?". I might just be a failure at grammar, but that doesn't sound right to me. Review! I'd love it!