'How, on this earth, are children going to be able to trust two men who are covered in their own blood?' Is the first thing Carlos thinks as he and Fabian Rutter inter the room.
This display before them. This is far from humane. This is wrong. Yet, so is everything he's had to investigate as of late. Things in this world are bad and he's here for a reason. One, two, three, four of them. They're so small. They're faces show no signs of constant worry or woe. They've spent their life being relatively safe.
Now, here they rest, inside some dog cage shaped mechanism. Only one of them are looking at Carlos and it's that blonde headed fellow with the bowtie. He seems to be locked on Carlos like his life depends on it and Detective Garcia sees him.
This is a human bowling alley. A tiny human bowling alley. The emergency lights lighting up this damnaged, buried, school are offset. Reddish in some places and green in others it's the ugliest shade of Christmas either Carlos or Fabian have seen. They both feel a crescendo in the music no one else can hear as the three fourths of them who are squabbling go silent. Positioned lights illuminate each of their faces and they all read the same, 'help me.'
Carlos looks at the framework to the strange thin glass dividing him from the other half of the gym. He sees the low waste high shelf built into the framework with the nobs and buttons that give off the illusion they have functions but the only two things that look usable on the banister are the three marble spheres on the rotator track that runs right through the divider and connects to the skylight high dog cage concealing the children and the giant Youtube reminiscent play button somehow set apart from the other mechanisms around it.
The words, "Play Me" flash on a small monitor and in the reflection of the glass they see the timer atop the Gymnasium entrance counting down on the monitor. They've only got an hour and five minutes left.
Guzman presses himself against the glass of the window sill. His heart is still pounding. He stares out at the flakes that fall in early morning hoping, wishing, that something invisible in the frost might take away this awful, awful feeling as it fell against the powder piling up on the ground. At least this development has the trees. They keep them safe from the glares and the flares of the Christmas season.
A sound of water falling onto tile indicates Ander's in the shower. The Seafoam green, neon purple, and soft blue hue illuminate the emptiness of the room. Polo is in the kitchen discussing things with Professor Knight. All Guzman can think about is how badly he wants to not be alone. This has been a terrible evening. The most dreadful of days. He's sad and he's angry because he's sad. Guzman doesn't like to be sad, he likes to be reliable.
He keeps thinking back to the moment Polo vanished.
Guzman had stopped to look in a window display of puppies. There were four of them. One with a spot on it's left eye, one bright yellow one that had a pink ribbon bow'd to it's neck, one gnawing on a bone, and one all alone in a corner crying and whimpering as it dreamed. Guzman stared at that puppy that cried in it's sleep for a long time. Polo cries in his sleep and Guzman hates it because you can't do anything about it- you can't change a person who cries in their sleep. He turned to look at Polo but Polo was gone and it felt like the angel of death had appeared as a face among the rushing crowd in the cities night.
When he turned back to that display the curtain had fallen and the Open sign has been cut off. Someone had locked the door. Still, through the glass, Guzman could hear that Whimper. The entire day echoed in a window puppies whimper.
Now he can't stop himself from letting the tears run their race down his angry face. What was Polo thinking? Doing this to him?
"Guzman?" Whimpers Polo and every ounce of rage Guzman had floods away like rain down a city drain.
He turns to look at the boy entering the room. Polo says so plainly, "I lost time. It wasn't pleasant, it wasn't something I could control, I don't want it to happen again. I'm getting help."
Guzman's off the sill and standing with Polo before either of them can register a single thought. The warmth returns.
"You disappeared on me. What happened Polo?" Whispered Guzman.
Polo said, "I just vanished Guzman, I couldn't stay in one place. I blinked and I was somewhere new and I hated that I wasn't with you."
Guzman pulls Polo in for a hug and they stand there in that warmth listening to that song come on the haunting lofi radio on Youtube they'd heard out in the city.
Underneath the Christmas lights
Underneath the Christmas lights
Underneath the Christmas lights
Sia's purple words repeat like rain over and over to the woeful blue piano and at last Guzman pulled away and he looked at Polo, his Polo. This will always be his Polo. Those trout like fish lips purse and Polo's tongue comes out to hydrate them as they've gotten a little chapped from his night out in the park. Guzman can't help it. He leans in and kisses Polo. It's real. It's warm. It's life for both of them.
Underneath the Christmas lights.
Underneath the Christmas liiiiiiights.
Underneath the Christmas liiiights
Underneath the Christmas liiiights
Underneath the Christmas lights.
"Hello detective Garcia..." The voice is loud enough for all six who are present to hear, "You seem to have this idea in your head that you can handle something this big. Something your friends in the US are calling a transnational disturbance. You seem to think you can handle it on your own. According to our sources they're hot on our trail. This mechanism we have timing you is counting down to the estimated second of their systematic breech. The moment that timer hits zero every mechanism not removed with detonate. That's a lot of lives detective and you're only on your second challenge. Let's hope you were smart enough to keep your first ally alive. You could use all the help you can get."
Carlos looks at Fabian who suddenly looks so guilty. All of Carlos' insides tie in a knot. This is going to take a while and right out the gate he's on high alert that the British chap can't be trusted. How, convenient they're both so vigorously wounded and forced to pack bond from the trauma.
"Hanging before you are the Harpers. A set of Quadruplets, oh how adorable, their parents must miss them very much." The blond one, second to the last reading from right to left, seems to glare with but a small sapphire tear sliding down his face.
The voice continues, "They could, quite possibly, if you can help them escape. The door is right there for them. Oh, but you and your friend if he's still alive have no choice but to move on to level three." All eyes find the glow of the exit sign behind the dog cage. These ropes, for the Harpers, are tremendously heavy and it's not like the threads holding their wrist cuffs above their heads are that heavy. The whole thing could snap at any moment, hanging them like pictures on their grieving parents walls. It's a nightmare.
"When you opened that door you set off a trigger. That trigger will, in time, snap that which locks the pins, and those you wish to set free, causing them all to ascend right into the adjuster cavities located above them. Have you ever seen a mincer chop an onion? Would you like to watch detective? I'd hope not. You have three chances Carlos, to knock down as many pens as possible releasing those you do. Those who are left, however, will meet a very messy ending. Tic tok. Time is running out." The static ends the play back and Carlos can't help but sigh. This is madness.
