In The Clear: Games V


Level 2 - Main Entrance - 12:01 PM


It feels like the air has been sucked from their lungs.

Vasi stares at the image on the screen, their eyes taking in every familiar feature and trying desperately not to recognize it. The person's hair is longer than they've ever kept it. There are yellowed pieces of plastic where their piercings should be. Their ears are red and swollen so that they can hardly see the haphazard pieces. The hoodie isn't so out of place. The eyes have the same intensity they're used to seeing in the mirror. The more Vasi stares, the easier it is to come to the hardest possible - it's me.

I'm the target.

They turn quickly to the side as a wave of nausea rushes quickly over them. Vasi's eyes are wide as they find the floor, every breath feeling like a shock of static. When they look down, their fingers are trembling violently against the ground. They swear they can't even feel the coldness beneath them.

Vasi's gaze rises slowly back to the screen, but the image is already gone. Instead, they can see a face that they insist looks so different. Wide eyes. Lips agape. So pale it looks like they've never even heard of the sun. However, they can't deny this one. It turns its head the same way Vasi does - away.

"At least they used a good picture of you."

Vasi jumps at the sudden voice, not remembering that he's there until they turn towards him. Noam all but mimics their expression. His cheeks have gone so white they'd bet he'd glow in the dark. He hasn't even turned away from the screen. It doesn't look like he possibly could have spoken, but there's no one else here.

And, even if it's the last thing Vasi wants to do, they can't help but burst into laughter.

Noam tries to force a smile but it doesn't make a lick of a difference. It feels like the air is swirling around him, like he's caught in some weird tornado but all by himself. He wants to just about shoot himself in the foot for making a joke about it. Truthfully the words don't even leave a tingle on his lips but he would know that stupid voice anywhere. Noam knows they're laughing. He's glad it worked to cut the tension. He still feels like a fucking idiot.

What am I going to do? The first instinct is to run, fast and far, without looking back. He's not the target, Vasi is. No one is going to be looking for him and if he squeezes himself far enough into some dark corner he'll stand a much better chance.

Coward.

I know.

Noam turns abruptly towards his friend. They look more relaxed than he expected, but there are still stale tears in their eyes. He can't blame them. If that would've been his picture, Noam doesn't think he'd stand a chance at dry eyes. He's not much of a crier, but this shit would get to him. He's gotten pretty in touch with the emotion of 'not wanting to get murdered' lately. Turns out that one can really tug on the tear ducts.

"We need to get you somewhere safe." Vasi seems just as surprised as he is to hear himself speak. The words aren't even, in fact they sound like they're being squeezed through a juicer along with a couple of cement bricks. That's what the health drinks his mom drinks taste like anyways.

Vasi nods sharply. "Where?"

Noam realizes that his earlier statement made it seem like he had a plan. He shakes his head. "I don't know." Where the fuck is going to be safe when everyone will be looking for them? "Somewhere with hiding spots, but not obvious ones."

Vasi looks around the room they're currently waiting in. It's about as empty as a place can get, with giant windows overlooking the distinct blue nothingness that's almost started to seem normal. Even Noam can take the hint. If anyone came in here right now, they'd be sitting chickens or whatever the saying is. They can't stay here.

"Up or down?" He asks finally. The next room over isn't much better, full of tables and benches but no real spots to hide. They're going to have to take the stairs, but that comes with its own set of risks. He could literally lead them straight into the end of someone's fucking knife.

Vasi swallows and shakes their head. He knows it's a shit choice, but they need to make one. Noam doesn't think he'll be able to, he doesn't want this to be up to him. He doesn't want it to be his fault when his choice inevitably ends up going wrong.

"Up."


Level 4 - Workshop - 12:09 PM


"Why?"

Bridget's entire body is physically trembling as she stands up from the stool. Bowie and Shane look away, both ducking their heads in clear discomfort. She doesn't care. This is ridiculous. They can't just pretend nothing is happening; they're not going to get anywhere by sitting around and waiting for someone else to find them.

Omar is the only one that seems relatively unbothered by her outburst. He tilts his head to one side and offers a warm smile that she wishes she could slap straight off his lips. He's trying to make her feel like he's hearing her. He isn't. He's the delusional coward that wants to keep them here instead of fighting for every possible advantage they can snatch up. "We should think this through."

"Think what through?" Bridget snaps. She's trying to keep her voice down, but that's getting harder and harder with each passing second. This is their chance. They have the numbers. As far as she knows, there's no other group of their size walking around. This advantage is theirs if they would just get off their asses and take it.

Omar takes a slow breath. He can see that she's upset, but getting angry along with her isn't going to solve anything. He will stay calm and they'll figure all of this out, he knows they will. "A lot of things. We haven't discussed what we want to do strategically, or our plans for getting the others on board."

"What are you talking about?" Bridget asks, her eyes narrowing.

So there's where the confusion is. Omar shakes his head softly and offers her the slightest smile. "We want to look into other options, right?" He looks between Bowie and Shane, only one of whom meets his eye. "That's the right thing to do. That girl was able to help me break out of the cell block, so maybe there's another way."

"There isn't." Her cheeks have gone even redder, which he didn't realize was possible.

"Maybe not," Omar admits. "But I'd feel better if we tried, just like we agreed when we met. It's possible no one else needs to get hurt. We have all the time in the world, and if it doesn't work-" It will. "Then we'll make a new plan."

He needs time to think. Before The Cut was revealed, that was their plan - escape. Bridget had been on board then, so why the change of heart? Isn't it better if they lose the fewest people possible? They can't change what's already happened but that doesn't mean the four of them can't make a difference. Nothing's changed since their last plan.

Nothing.

He'll keep saying that as long as he needs to.

"You're fucked," Bridget says flatly. "We're not getting out, one of us is. If you believe anything else at this point there's no helping you."

"I just don't want anyone else to needlessly get hurt," he counters. "What's wrong with that?"

She pauses, narrowing her eyes until they're no more than slits beneath her eyebrows. "You hurt them. If you say it was needless, then what does that say about you? You want to put the blame on anything but yourself, Omar, but you're only kidding yourself. I'm not fooled."

"It wasn't like that-" Bowie starts, but their eyes are on the ground. They don't look up at either contestant, in fact their voice is so quiet that both seem to miss it entirely. Their posture deflates with the words, as if not even they truly believe them.

"I didn't kill anyone," Omar interrupts, his tone sharp. He looks between Bowie and Shane as if expecting one of them to back him up. Neither one meets his eyes this time. "It was the trial, I never would've hurt her." He pauses, his face scrunching as if trying to keep invisible tears from shedding. "Never."

Bridget takes a step towards him. "You killed someone." Her searing gaze turns on Bowie. "Both of you did. Grow the fuck up and face it or don't, it's none of my business, but you're not messing this up for me."

Bowie closes their teary eyes as her footsteps trail away. Their expression doesn't move from the floor, not when a second set joins hers and not when the room falls silent afterwards. They can hear Bridget's words still echoing in their skull. They don't want to believe her.

Deep down, they know that they do.

They always have.

"We'll let her cool down," Omar says gently, squeezing their shoulder but it doesn't feel in any way comforting. In fact, it's so tight it almost hurts. Bowie tries to nod, to reply in some way, but they can't. They can barely force themself to open their eyes and, when they do, all they see are the blurry black floors beneath them.

And those don't offer them any more comfort.


Shane has to jog to keep up with her marching footsteps. He doesn't know where she's going, but he doesn't have time to stop and think about that either. Truthfully, it doesn't matter. She'll be able to find their way back to the others when she's ready. He wholeheartedly believes that. As long as he follows Bridget, everything's going to be okay.

Nothing bad has happened to him since she came back. The alliance may be fighting, there might be things happening elsewhere, but he's safe. That's all he can ask for right now; they're both safe.

She'll figure everything else out later. Shane knows she will. She always does.

"They're fucking delusional!" Bridget turns so quickly that he almost runs into her. He scrambles back a half step, the frustration on her face startling him. He can't tell if she's about to cry or scream. Shane braces himself for either. "Can you believe them?"

He's not sure how to answer, so he shakes his head. It's impossible to know if that was the right answer. Bridget lets out a loud huff and stomps another few steps before turning back around. He wants to help. She's upset and Shane doesn't think it's his fault, but he still wants to be there for her. Just like she's always done for him.

"What do you want to do?" He asks quietly.

Bridget shakes her head, dropping her face into her hands. "I don't know."

"I don't think they're upset with you," he explains. "If you want to go back we can."

"What do you think we should do?"

Shane closes the short distance between them and places a hand on hers. "Whatever you want to do."

And he means that. He trusts her more than anyone else, knows her more than anyone else even if it realistically hasn't been that long. Even just her presence brings a calm that Shane recognizes but can't quite describe. He feels safe with her. He wants her to feel just as safe with him.

This might be an impossible situation, but it doesn't feel that way when she's beside him. Shane's grown used to confusion; everything feels harder than it should be for him. While others move naturally, it seems like his legs don't quite know what to do. He has to think about everything, focus on everything, or it's wrong. Shane is so used to being wrong; to being three steps behind and still stuck in the blood rain memories.

She washes that all away. It's like it never happened as long as she's here to remind him. There is no blood. There is no rain pouring down the back of his shirt or cold metal in his hand. There are no ghosts.

How could there be? She's right in front of him.

Bridget looks up and finds his patient expression waiting for a response. His words feel like they should be conditional, like she should be able to find his true intentions somewhere behind them but she doesn't. He watches her and she can actually believe that he will listen to what she wants to do. Shane hasn't shown her anything else, come to think of it.

For the first time in a while, silence doesn't feel so hard. It isn't a ticking clock waiting for her to find the right words to convince someone else of what she needs. It just is. Bridget wants to trust it. Deep down she aches to relax into it; it feels familiar in a way she's missed so dearly.

Bridget turns away before she can. He isn't her and he isn't forever. No one is, Bridget's learned that much. No matter how much she can wish for this trust, this safety, it's not real. She knows where she is. She knows what she needs to do to make it out.

She's almost jealous of the calm in his expression. Bridget knows that her own doesn't even come close. "Let's go."

She knows it's not forever. She knows it's not Anne. She knows that, before long, she's going to have to say goodbye again. But just because she knows all of that, doesn't mean she's ready to leave him behind just yet. Even if it hurts, she hopes he'll stay just that little bit longer.


Level 4 - Library - 12:14 PM


"It could be anything," Amadis continues. It's hard to tell at this point whether she's talking to Dom or not, but she's almost gotten used to it. The girl talks aloud to herself as much if not more than she talks to Dom. It makes it a little bit hard to know when to interject. "We'll have to be careful when it's over."

Dom squints slightly. "Why?"

Amadis flinches, further confirming her suspicion that she wasn't talking to her. At least she doesn't seem upset. She never does. Questions are generally welcome, and usually lead to more jotting down of notes. It's starting to feel like they're actually getting somewhere, even if none of the notes have pointed them away from this place.

"The reward," Amadis explains as she sits back down across from her. "If it's meant to help one of us, it's probably going to hurt the rest. It could be a weapon that's maybe easier to use, or some kind of extra defence. Whoever gets it, we'll have to look out for."

"You seem to know a lot about this," Dom tells her.

Amadis shakes her head. "It's all speculation. I've never actually watched the show before."

"What?" Dom asks. "I feel like everyone's seen it."

"My mom didn't want it around, it was too close to home." Amadis realizes how it sounds as the words leave her lips, but part of her is hesitant to explain further. She isn't embarrassed of her mom, quite the opposite actually. She couldn't be more proud. Speaking even this much out loud, however, makes her mom feel even farther away than she already is.

She looks up and it's only then that she feels the tears start to retreat from her eyelids. Amadis hopes the other girl isn't close enough to see them.

"I'm sorry," Dom says after a pause. "We can talk about something else."

Amadis shakes her head. There's no reason for her to be sorry, she wasn't the one to bring it up. Amadis didn't have to bring it up either; she doesn't know why she did. Except now her mom is all she can think about. She would know what to do, Amadis is only pretending. These notes are nothing. They're not enough to help her escape or survive or whatever she's expecting to do here. She knows they're not.

"I just miss her," Amadis says softly.

Dom nods softly. She doesn't know what to say, so for a while she doesn't say anything. She doesn't miss her own parents. In fact, Dom hasn't thought about them at all until this very moment. She is about as certain as a person can be that they haven't thought about her either. They're both probably too far into a bong or a bottle to even realize she's been arrested let alone that she's here. Most likely, they won't even be home to open the door when someone comes to tell them that she's dead.

She can't help but feel just a little bit jealous of the girl in front of her.

"Where is she?" Dom isn't sure why she asks, nor whether she wants to know the answer. Some sick part of her wonders if Amadis' mother is dead and that's why she misses her. Of course she doesn't hope that. At least, she prays she doesn't want that.

Amadis shrugs and looks away, giving her more than enough of a hint to drop the topic. Of course, Dom wonders what it means that she doesn't know but she isn't going to push it. The pair barely know each other and they're not together for that purpose anyways. The goal here is to push each of them as far in this game as they can go. That's it.

"Do you think we should be trying to get the reward?" Dom asks. She suspects that she knows the answer given that it hasn't been brought up yet and neither one of them has moved, but it feels like a good subject change.

"We could," Amadis says carefully. "We don't know what the reward is, and it could be beneficial. There's also risk, we both have weapons but neither of us seem keen to use them. Is that a correct assumption?"

For a second it feels like a trick. Why should Dom admit to not wanting to kill someone in a game where it'll absolutely come down to that? Is she trying to figure out Dom's weaknesses?

She watches Amadis' expression carefully but it doesn't betray anything. She reminds herself that this is just the way she speaks, it's the way she's said everything so far. There is no beating around the bush with her. It's not something Dom is used to. Reluctantly, she nods.

"We could use this time to figure out our strategy, then," she continues. "We're not out of danger, but the eyes aren't on us right now. We're probably not going to get this again."

"Makes sense," Dom agrees, and it does. The other contestants will be looking for one in particular, which means they're more likely to walk away from anyone else. The reward is something they can hopefully figure out and deal with later depending on what it is. This time is valuable.

And, as much as she isn't going to admit it, staying here isn't actually the worst idea in the world.


Level 3 - Bathroom - 3:41 PM


"They'd have to be crazy to look in here."

Vasi stares at him with an expression that they only hope says every curse word passing through their mind. There's not nearly as much traffic here as there used to be. That's partially because now everyone seems to know where the other bathrooms are located but also because it's gotten pretty gross. Several days worth of sharing between eighteen teenagers will do that.

"What?" Noam asks, plugging his nose enough to distort his voice. They roll their eyes, deciding it's not worth it to argue. A third of the time has already passed and he's managed to keep them away from everyone. For that alone he deserves a smidgeon of faith.

Vasi crouches down to look under the stalls. They don't find any stray legs and neither of them had heard anything before they ducked in here. All good signs that they're still alone.

Honestly, they'd be impressed if anyone were able to hold their breath this long.

Noam surveys the rest of the bathroom while they stay solidly in the middle of it. This has been their routine so far, even without discussing it. He opens the cupboards that sit at the back of the room and ruffles through them a few times. Every time he moves onto something new, Vasi is able to relax just that little bit more.

It's getting easier to do. They rub the back of their neck as Noam finally finishes his loop of the room. They've spoken far less than usual, but they're not sure that's either one of them's fault. It feels like they're settling into an almost routine. Vasi doesn't like the quiet, nor the fear that pulses like a second heartbeat in their chest. Yet, they can't help but enjoy that he's trying. They just wish they didn't so badly need to see it.

This is all so new to them. Two feet in then two feet out, that's been Vasi's way of life since they can remember. They trust with their entire heart and then, once it's shattered, they never turn in that direction again. Except Noam, every time they enter a room or scuttle down a hallway, seems to be proving that maybe different is okay. Maybe it doesn't have to be all or nothing. Maybe they get to choose what it is instead of having everything happen to them.

Vasi's lips turn ever slightly as Noam walks back towards them. Isn't that a novel concept - choice?

"What's got you smiling?" He asks. They can see the hesitation in his eyes, in the way he doesn't come quite as close as he used to. And maybe Vasi likes that too. He isn't pretending that everything's okay, that nothing's changed. It just makes Vasi more hopeful that things will go back to normal after all.

And it's up to me if I want that. Vasi knows that's not wholly true, but it's close enough. They have a choice in what happens. They don't have to follow him or believe him or do anything they don't want to do.

Vasi might be a target, but they've never felt more free.

"Not your breath," they joke. "It smells worse than the toilet water."

Noam's smile brightens despite his rolling eyes. "Apologies, I must've missed the last shipment of mouthwash."

This is the last place they should feel normal. They're hiding in a bathroom with someone they've known for less than a week while over a dozen others try to hunt them down. They could be hours away from their own death, yet it barely feels like it. The only real difference is the sound their heart makes against their ribs. Vasi has never found anything else so easy to ignore.

At this point, it's barely background music. Even when they hear distant footsteps. Even when they're both crammed too far inside a cupboard that's been absolutely ransacked. Even when they can all but taste Noam's awful breath.

Even when they still have to wonder if they're making the right choice in the first place.

He's trying - they know that. He's lied before - they know that too. It makes sense to wait, to test the water until they're certain it won't burn them again. But Vasi missed this. They missed their banter and the way that, when they're together, nothing has to be that serious. They felt the most like themself when they first met, before anything had to come along and ruin it.

And maybe it's nice to have someone believe they're worth fighting for.


Level 3 - Kitchen - 3:44 PM


Myra trembles in the dimness, her body terrified into stiffness and her feet planted firmly on the pantry floor. She can't remember how she got here. All she can hear is blood rushing in her ears, none of the earlier steps that she knows she should be hearing. She needs to move. She needs to get out of here. She doesn't know what she's going to find if she does.

Breathe…

Breathe.

…Breathe.

She swallows down another gulp of air but her lungs still feel empty. Myra crouches to the ground, pushing a box out of the way that her numb hands can't feel. Boxes. Cans. She looks up and sees a mess of shelves above her, all of which have been picked apart. If Myra had to guess, she would say that not a single one of the packages contains food. She lifts one of the cans to move it further from the pantry door. The gush of goo that runs down her hand is enough to make her gag. If this was ever edible, it certainly isn't now.

Myra peers through the crack in the door. As soon as she does, all of her senses are immediately overwhelmed. She can see Ram. She can see him. It feels like it's happening all over again and yet she's here. Why is she here?

Not one of her thoughts responds. Her teeth chatter so loud she's surprised neither one of them can hear her. Myra's hands clammer on the floor looking for something, anything, she can use to help. She can't stay here. She needs to help them. Except, for several seconds, the only things her hands find are her own tears splashing down on them.


Ram backs up as far as they dare. Their fingers hold so tightly to their hammer that they've long turned white. They're acutely aware of the second weapon tucked against their waist. They're just as aware of the small movements of their opponent. Ram has to pay attention. They have to see everything before it's coming, because if they don't it's going to end up the same as last time. They'll be on the floor, bleeding with their arms wrapped around their stomach, but this time they'll be dead.

It happened so fast. He appeared so fast. They were looking in the kitchen pantry, that's all they and Myra were doing when all of a sudden 014 was behind them. Ram barely remembers slamming the door, but they can see that it's closed. They know Myra's inside and that's exactly how it should be. She doesn't have a weapon and, even if she did, she was so ready to give it up that they bet she doesn't know how to use it.

This is up to them. Ram tilts the hammer so that their wrist feels more at ease, but it doesn't do shit for the rest of their body.

Last time I lost.

They shove that thought so far to the back of their mind that it can't speak again. It doesn't matter what happened last time. This is this time. They have to win. Losing isn't just a hit to their dignity and laying in need of some stitches. Losing is dying. This has to be different.

But that tiny voice still whispers that it won't be.

014 scowls as he approaches. There's a knife in one hand and a weight in his opposite pocket that draws Ram's eye. Does he have two weapons? It's not like they can stop to ask him. Ram matches his every step. They need to move; they need to do something before 014 does and this ends before it can even start.

Ram launches themself at him, but he all but swats them into the pantry door. It shakes with their weight and they have to press against it again to keep from sliding to the ground. No sooner have they steadied themself than do they run at him again. This time he isn't expecting it.

Their hammer slams against the back of 014's shoulder with a crack. He reaches behind him and Ram lashes out again, landing another blow against his smallest two fingers. "Fuck!"

Ram jumps out of the way as 014 brings his hand in close to his chest. His jaw is clenched so tightly that his face has started to turn red. His left hand shakes, the last of his fingers slouched to nearly touch his palm. They look away as their stomach turns. 014 seems to have the same reaction.

And then his eyes lock so steadily to theirs that Ram can almost feel it. Their own gaze widens as 014 starts towards them. It's easy to sidestep the first, second blow, but they come faster. The third grabs them by the side of their collar. Ram has to use the back end of their hammer to pry him away and, when he lets go, they drop with a huff to the ground. 014 glares at them. The blood dripping from the tips of his fingers doesn't even seem to faze them.

Focus. Ram needs to get back on their feet. They scramble for some distance, but only manage a foot at a time before 014 closes it again. They tell themself to watch his limbs, to figure out where they're going so that they can be somewhere else. Ram's already gotten two hits in. They need more. They don't know how many it's going to take.

Blood rushes in their ears and it's all they can hear. I have to win.

Move. 014 grabs hold of them and they kick up just in time to avoid his knife. Ram's back hits the ground and they roll themself onto all fours. They can still feel the hammer in their grip. That's the most important thing. Ram throws themself forward and turns to face 014 in the same motion. This time, he hasn't gotten any closer.

He's not even looking at them.

That's when they hear it, a loud crash from the other side of the room. Ram's eyes widen and they look that way, but at first they don't see anything. Then, their eyes lock on something that hadn't been there moments ago - a single leaking can.

Ram's eyes shift to the pantry, but instead of a closed door they can see an almost one-foot wide opening. Suddenly, another can launches out of it towards the fridge. Ram has to hold back a chuckle when they see 014's head turn in that direction. He looks between the fridge and the door where the last can had landed. His back is almost entirely turned away from the pantry.

014 stands to his full height, but the only indication that he knows Ram's still there is that he keeps a wide berth. He takes a step towards the fridge, then one towards the door. The cans have rolled into the shadows, barely there unless he were to be looking for him. Judging by the tense frown and the shift of his eyes, he's not.

Ram sees the choice as clear as day in his expression, and it only takes a moment for him to make it. 014 takes off towards the stairs before Ram can even get back on their feet. He's gone and they still don't. All they can think to do is stare at the pantry door, which slides open so carefully they can't be sure that they're not imagining it.

Myra only wastes a second before she sprints from inside the pantry. She wraps her arms around them before they can even think to stop her. When she pulls away, her eyes are filled with the tears they'd come to expect but her smile is so wide they almost don't believe them.

"Are you okay?" Their cheeks burn with every bit of shame they should feel. She grabs Ram's arms and examines them, takes in every bit of their expression no matter how hard they try to pull away.

Finally, Ram manages to rip their wrists out of her grip. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

They swallow back their own tears. There's nothing to cry about. They're okay and so is Myra. 014 is gone. Everything that they should've wanted to happen did.

So why does Ram still feel like they lost?


Level 3 - Bathroom - 4:17 PM


Neither of them has spoken in what seems like hours. Noam can all but feel the unnecessary comments eating away at the back of his throat, but so far he's managed to keep them there. Who knew that fear could be so motivating? If his parents had figured that out years ago, maybe Noam would've been inclined to listen to them.

He swallows. Normally those kinds of thoughts would at least be followed up with a smirk, maybe even a chuckle if he was feeling generous. Instead, all Noam finds is a tightening knot in the center of his stomach. Weird.

Vasi mouths something at him but he isn't paying attention soon enough to catch it. He squints and cocks his head in silent question.

They roll their eyes. This time he's watching, but he doesn't have a hint of an idea what the fuck they're trying to say. Vasi tries again upon seeing his confusion, but he just shakes his head a third time. They lean forward, getting their lips as close to his ear as possible. "It's quiet again."

"Yeah." They both flinch at how loud his voice is and Noam shoots them an apologetic look. At least whoever was out there is probably gone. That or they've just decided to take up miming at just about the least opportune time.

Vasi juts their chin out towards the cupboard door and he nods. His legs have been asleep underneath him for the last several minutes and he's already high on whatever cleaners they have stored in here. Noam pushes open the door, trying to be careful at first. Unfortunately, the second he leans a centimeter too far he finds himself splayed on the bathroom floor. He almost wishes he were still in there with the soaps. Noam can see the spot under his chin where his skin wiped the grime away.

"How did you get so graceful?" Vasi snickers as they climb out behind him. He rolls his eyes dramatically as he tries to work some blood flow back into his legs. He has no idea how they fared any better; they were sharing the same cramped space.

"The same way you got so sympathetic."

They snort in response, which cracks a smile across his face. It feels good to joke, even if it has to be done in whispers now. Each time, it pulls the weight just far enough off Noam's chest so he can breathe. It brings him just a little bit closer to feeling like this isn't really happening.

Delusional? Maybe. Effective? The jury's still out on that one.

It seems to be helping Vasi, and right now that's just as important. Noam might not know how to hide or fight or anything useful, but- well that's actually it. He doesn't have anything useful to offer them. Yet, they're still here. It probably has something to do with the fact that there's quite honestly nowhere else to be. Noam is trying very hard not to take that for granted again.

They're a good person. Not in the spiritual sense of giving to the poor and preaching to the masses, but in the sense that Noam can actually tolerate. He feels comfortable with them even when this entire place gives him the creeps. He isn't watching his back like he used to in prison, nevermind that he has all the more reason to. He just thinks someone has to be a good person to put up with him for so long.

See dad, Noam can't help but think. Not everyone thinks I'm insufferable.

The thought doesn't feel as satisfying as it should. There is still a whole list of things that his dad was right about. He's not going to get anywhere in life, true because it's almost over. He's not going to make anyone proud, true as well. He's not going to be able to keep friends, does this count as disproven if Noam keeps one for the rest of his short life?

He doesn't realize that Vasi is staring at him until he shakes himself back out of his head. The last thing he wants to think about is his family. The last thing he should be worrying about at this point is what they think of him. What's done is done. He's a shit son and there's nothing he can do to change that now. Noam never wanted his dad or anyone to be proud of him so why does he suddenly seem to care?

"Sorry," he says, assuming that he missed something else they said.

Instead, Vasi just cocks their head in response. "You okay?"

"You're asking me that?" He tries to laugh, but the smile doesn't return to his lips so easily. "You're the one being hunted for sport."

"Actually, I'm the only one worth a prize," they tease. "We're all being hunted."

"Touche."

"What's up?" They ask, their tone more serious this time.

He manages a better attempt at a grin. He's not going to bother Vasi with any of his stupid problems. This is about them and about him earning their trust again. Noam wants to be here, not moping but laughing because that's what's going to help. He isn't going to spend the rest of whatever life he has worrying about being good enough for some snob. "Nothing, really."

"Fine." They roll their eyes. "Now let's get out of here, this place smells worse than you do."


Level 5 - Morgue - 7:09 PM


Lawrence's eyes settle on Casi, who is huddled into a corner of the room. His shoulders don't shiver the same way they did when they were awake, though they can still see the tension in his jaw. It's been several hours since he fell asleep, but Lawrence hasn't bothered to wake them. It seems like he needs it even if he made no mention of being tired.

They carefully slide along their chair until they're once again facing the panelled screen. They wanted to try and find some kind of covering for it while Casi's here, but they suspect that would only make the object more enticing. Already, Lawrence has redirected their attention from it a handful of times. It's as if part of him understands what it is, but hasn't yet realized that it's not something they should want to witness.

Lawrence hasn't quite worked out why they feel it's their business to care. It's not like his curiosity will have any impact on them. Whether Casi sees something they don't wish to or not will not change their own life in the slightest. Yet, Lawrence feels the need to hover close to the paneled screen to deter them. Often, their presence is enough to stop him venturing too close. However, sometimes it's as though Casi forgets that closeness here is dangerous. They could hurt him. Lawrence has every reason to, after all.

Their eyes shift to the end of the room, where they know solitary confinement lies. They spent enough time during the first few days surveying the floor for no reason beyond curiosity. Now, they only venture as close as they feel is acceptable. Lawrence doesn't want to frighten the person inside. The few circles they've made in that direction serve as both a warning and an olive branch. I'm here, stay away.

They haven't heard much from behind the door in the past several hours. It's possible whoever was there has already moved on, but Lawrence isn't interested in checking. They don't particularly want more company; they're still trying to make peace with that which they already have. Given that the door hasn't yet opened, they assume whoever is there feels similarly.

Lawrence tilts their head to one side than the other. For being locked in a terminal game, they've had more time than expected for contemplation. They suppose that makes some sense. Lawrence does not have a weapon of their own, which thus disqualifies them from taking part in the major events. It would be possible to do so with something provisional, but that would put them at a stark disadvantage.

No, it makes the most sense to stay here. They fold their hands on the table in front of them and bow their head in a quick nod. They can't help but wonder how long they will be able to believe this excuse.

Perhaps long enough for Lawrence to discover the real reason behind their hesitance.


In sleep, she's still here.

Casi stares across at them and finds the bookshelves as the background to this dream. She sleeps, while he is wide awake. Casi can't bring themself to wake her. They look so peaceful. Nevermind the fact that Meg is seated perfectly upright in a way that would make sleep improbable. Her eyes are closed. Casi can see the slow breaths that promise that their heart is still beating. It's not right, but he doesn't care because, to them, it's better than the alternative.

Casi reaches across the table, his hand trembling in a way that feels so close to life. Maybe this isn't a dream. They know it is. Casi's always been able to tell when they're asleep; he taught themself to lucid dream in elementary school. When they look up, all the books on the shelf are the same colour with the same nonsense title. This is a dream.

His hand touches hers, but they don't feel it. It's as if their hand passes straight through Meg's sleeping fingertips. Except when Casi looks up, she isn't sleeping. Her mouth is filled with blood that falls to cover the front of their shirt. Her body is taken over by violent convulsions that spit more foaming blood across the table. Their eyes are open. Casi can see the fear locked inside them. She tries to speak, but all that comes out is a waterfall of blood that coats Casi's hands-

They startle awake, eyes wide as he stares into the brightness of the morgue. It takes several seconds before it sinks in that he's no longer in the room with the shelves. He's not sitting at a table at all, but sunk against the floor. Meg isn't there. The floor in front of them isn't covered with her blood. Casi brings their hands out in front of them, but besides a thin layer of grime they look the same as they always have.

He doesn't get any further before they burst into tears. They don't start slowly, but all at once until it feels like he can't breathe. Casi pants out every breath, half-believing each one is filled with the same blood that choked Meg.

She's gone. They're gone. She's dead-

Casi doesn't flinch when a figure appears in front of them. It's familiar even in this panicked moment and they have every urge to fling his arms around them. Instead, they curl inwards. It's not only their breaths that feel too full, but everything does. It feels like Casi is a hundred pounds heavier and maybe that's why he can't move, can't breathe, can't think.

He expects the figure to leave, but he doesn't. His features don't get any closer and Casi can hardly see them through the blurriness that mars his eyes, but they don't retreat. For as long as Casi stays there, and they don't know how long that is, Lawrence crouches a few feet away. And when the tears finally melt away again and Casi looks up, he's back on the stool as if nothing ever happened.


Level 5 - Isolation - 7:34 PM


"I haven't heard them in a while."

Eris flinches as the small voice comes from nearby. She hadn't forgotten the girl was there, quite the contrary actually. She just didn't think she would dare to speak. 006 has always looked about ready to shit her pants. Quite honestly, the only time Eris has heard her not sound close to tears was when they met in the cell block after being released. Even then, Eris wouldn't have said the girl sounded anywhere close to brave.

006 points to the room behind Eris, as if truly believing that were the source of her confusion. She shakes her head, not as an answer but to try and push off the surprise. She doesn't have any interest in talking right now or, most likely, ever. The silence has been stressful enough given that Eris is sharing it with someone else.

Yet, as she thinks more about what 006 said, she can't help but agree with her. Eris has kept herself relatively close to the door behind her. She's not close enough to get hit if it were to open, or so close she wouldn't have time to run, but she should be able to hear anything going on behind it. It was a set of footsteps that deterred her from going through it the first time. That's a good indication that the walls are pretty thin.

Is it possible they're sleeping? How long has it been? Am I sure that there's only one person? If there's two shouldn't one of them still be awake? They might be trying to be quiet if someone nearby is sleeping. Is it possible this is a trap? Eris doesn't realize she's still staring in 006's direction until she shakes herself away. 006 has already sunk another few inches into the floor by the looks of it.

The apology is already on the tip of Eris' tongue before she swallows it back down. She doesn't owe this girl anything, especially not pleasantries. If 006 can't handle someone looking at her, how is she going to handle any of what's going to happen to her here?

That's justification enough for Eris to keep her teeth clenched firmly together.

"Do you want me to check?"

The final word trembles on Marcy's tongue, but it makes its way out regardless. Her neck and back hurt from being curled up for so long, but truthfully that's not why she's offering. In fact, she's not sure why she is. Anyone could be behind that door. It's true that Marcy hasn't heard anyone, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's safe.

The simple fact is that nothing is.

She looks in Eris' general direction but avoids eye contact while she waits for a response. The pair have sat in silence since realizing they were stuck. The only thing that Marcy's truly been able to look in the face has been the blade of Eris' sword. Funny enough, it's probably the only thing in this room willing to return the gaze.

She knows that Eris doesn't want to stay here with her. Have there been moments where Marcy started to wonder if they would talk, maybe come to some kind of agreement? Of course. When there's little to think about besides her skin going numb against the floor, the mind runs wild. Eris has become the only familiarity in this place almost by accident. Yet, Marcy isn't going to sit here and hope.

She has a chance; Marcy does not. Eris won her trial while she tried to hold back tears upstairs. In the hours they've been stuck together, neither of them has done more than breathe in each others' direction. Marcy will not allow herself another disappointment in hoping for this.

Alone is fine. Alone is what she's used to.

And Eris has a chance, one that she shouldn't be trying to ruin.

Marcy peels herself up from the floor which takes far longer than she expected. Her legs haven't gone completely numb, but they're absolutely frigid from sitting on the floor. She steadies herself against the wall and looks at the door behind Eris. The girl hasn't moved to allow her through. Marcy wonders if she should take that as a sign.

When her feet feel as steady as they're likely going to, Marcy nods towards the door. She examines Eris' expression in her periphery but it's hard to read. The best Marcy can tell is that she's thinking about something.

"I can check." Her voice is even softer this time and it's clear she's losing her nerve faster than she acquired it. It feels good to stand, to do something other than sitting in paralyzed fear even if her legs want nothing more than to sit back down. The footsteps stopped.

Suddenly, Eris shakes her head and points behind her. "Not this one."

She sees the confusion immediately on 006's face. Truthfully it shouldn't matter. For a moment Eris wonders if she should just let her go wherever she wants. It's not like anyone knows there's two of them in here. Eris could easily hide in one of the cells and, if she hears 006 getting murdered, she at least knows not to go that way yet. That thought twists her stomach into a knot so tight it feels like she's going to vomit.

"Who's in there?" Eris suspects she knows how 006 will answer, but she asks the question anyway. Sure enough, the girl shakes her head to indicate that she doesn't know. "How long have they been there?"

Again, 006 shakes her head.

Eris closes her eyes for a moment, wondering if it's a bad idea to share what she's currently thinking. The girl seems harmless enough. Even before The Cut started, Eris had basically only met the girl when she was in tears or close to them. Not only that, but if she had any mal intent she probably would've acted on it down in the cell block. As far as Eris knows, when she told 006 to get lost she did.

That doesn't mean she won't kill me if it comes down to it. Eris hates that she's starting to find that thought hard to believe. Everyone should be looking to kill her and everyone else they come across. Yet, Eris has sat across from her twice now and 006 hasn't so much as taken a step towards her. That doesn't mean I can trust her.

… does it?

"Do you remember the guy with the tattoos?"

006's face visibly pales and Eris knows that she does. She looks slightly away for fear that her own eyes will give away her unease. "He came in and fell asleep."

Her eyes flicker to the door. "He didn't see you."

Eris can't help but notice that the girl's accent has become more pronounced. Not only that, but her breathing's gotten faster and her eyes move around the room much more quickly than they had before. Eris wonders if 006 is noticing any similar things about her. "I don't think so."

"Do you think he left?"

"It's possible."

"Should-" 006 only manages to mouth the next words without sound. It's clear she's afraid, but she hasn't sat back down again. She's turned ever slightly towards the door behind her. Eris can't imagine that she's still willing to go check on anything. She knows she certainly isn't.

But how else are we going to get out of here? Eris shakes away the inner complaints that pop up against the use of the word 'we' for the time being.

"He's in the next room," she says as evenly as she can. "The one behind you is utilities, but he came into the infirmary."

That doesn't mean he hasn't moved. That doesn't mean he's not on the other side of the door listening to their conversation right now. He doesn't have any reason to do that. It's illogical to think that he would, when he could just burst straight in and kill them both. 006 doesn't appear to have a weapon. He could be through her to Eris in a matter of seconds.

"That's what I heard." Marcy thinks back to the irregular vibrating sound that passed through the door when Eris first came inside. She hasn't thought about it much, but she remembers it sounded familiar. From what Marcy can recall, he was a large person - around the height of her uncle on her maman's side. And if there's one thing Marcy remembers about him it's the fact that his snoring shook the house when he fell asleep after holiday dinners. "Snoring."

"You can't hear it from here." Eris furrows her brow and she does her best not to feel like she's said something wrong. "I tried."

Marcy swallows. "When you opened the door-"

"And you remembered?"

She nods. Marcy's been able to distinguish even quiet sounds for as long as she can remember, but she's gotten more practice in recent years. In her last school, she had been able to tell who was coming into the bathroom just by the sound of their shoes. Prison was harder where everyone wore the same ones, but she could still distinguish a fair few.

Marcy shies away when she realizes that the other girl is still staring at her. She looks behind her to the door that apparently leads to the utility room. If they were both able to hear footsteps in the room behind Eris, she should be able to hear snoring easily just by opening the door.

Before she loses the nerve, Marcy does just that.

She hears Eris shift quickly behind her but that doesn't stop her. Marcy pries open the door slowly and looks around. It's dimmer than this room, but it doesn't take her eyes long to adjust. Besides, it's not a very big room. As soon as Marcy's sure there's no one inside, she takes that first step.

Eris feels like there's a vice tightening around her throat. Her first instinct when 006 opened the door was to shout at her to close it, but she was just able to stop herself in time. Her feet have instinctively ended up under her again despite the tingles that run up her thigh. She doesn't know where she's going to go if someone sees 006. She doesn't have many options. Hide, fight, run. Eris wants to scream at the girl for not giving her enough time to choose.

It feels like hours pass; it's more than likely only a minute or so. Either way, 006 comes back through the door with the same pale expression and Eris has to bite her tongue to keep from demanding to know what she found. Her eyes are no doubt drilling a hole in the back of the girl's head but, for the first time, 006 doesn't seem to notice.

She soundlessly guides the door closed and turns to face Eris. She actually jumps when she notices the daggers in Eris' expression. She couldn't care less about the girl's apologetic look. It feels like her heart is about to jump out of her throat.

"There's no one."

"You didn't hear anything?"

006 shakes her head. "I checked too."

"You what?"

She looks like she's going to throw up right there on the floor. She stares at Eris with wide eyes as the colour drains once again from her cheeks. If she weren't already backed up against a wall, Eris might think she was in danger of falling over.

This time the apology slips out before Eris can stop it. "I'm sorry. What did you see?"

006 near-instantly seems to relax. "Both rooms are empty."

"Are you sure?" Eris tries to keep her tone from sharpening again, but she's not sure how successful she is.

She hesitates for only a moment before nodding. Eris isn't sure if she should trust it, she has no idea how observant 006 is, but she feels her breathing start to ease. She'll still be careful. She isn't going to put her life in someone else's hands especially not when 006 has every reason to lie to her. This is a game; if there's one thing Eris needs to remind herself about everyone here it's that they want to win. She can't afford to let her guard down.

Yet, 006's next words shoot straight past any barrier that Eris might've put up. She hasn't even made it to the door, has barely started reaching out to open it, when they stop her completely in her tracks.

"Can I come with you?"

006 seems as surprised as Eris is by the words. She turns around and the girl has slouched back into the same posture she remembers first meeting. She looks one step away from crying, maybe two away from running in the opposite direction. Eris is sure she's not imagining the slight tremble in the hands clasped in front of her.

And Eris is even more surprised when she feels herself nod before turning back around.


Level 1A - Platform - 10:29 PM


Riley can feel the bruise on his back echo with each step he takes.

He's past flinching. He knows every time his foot hits the ground that it's going to hurt, but that's not a good enough reason to stop. He's been moving since he heard the announcement, yet the clock seems to be moving even faster. Riley is running out of time but he's unwilling to admit it. If he does, what's stopping him from going right back to that bed upstairs and conceding that he lost.

Maybe he's being dramatic, in fact he no doubt is. Riley might've gotten more sleep this morning than he's been able to in the past day and a half but that doesn't mean it's done him any good. He still feels as groggy as he did when he woke up in the infirmary. Luckily, his feet seem to be too tired to even realize they should be protesting his continued motion.

How fucking hard can it be to find two idiots in a prison? Harder than he thought, apparently.

He's spent the better part of the last hour trying to convince himself that this isn't a loss. I don't need the reward. It's true, or at least true enough. When this whole thing started, Riley didn't know anything about a reward and yet he was still convinced he was going to do this. He doesn't need it. But what if no one kills them.

That's all the motivation Riley needs to get his ass to the bottom of the stairs. He can handle not getting the reward. Hell, he doesn't even know what it is or if he should be wanting it. Whatever it is, though, he doesn't want Vasi or Noam to get their hands on it. He doesn't care if it's petty to go through with all of this just to prevent that. If petty is what's gonna get him through this, so be it.

He tries to unclench his fist but only three out of five of them respond. The bleeding stopped shortly after Riley left the kitchen, but something tells him that's not what he should be worrying about. Even behind the red stain his blood left behind, the particular shade of white his two smallest fingers have turned is starting to get concerning.

At least they barely hurt now. Whatever that fucking possum of a person managed to do to him seems to have settled into a semi-numbness. Each time Riley presses the tips of those fingers, he feels it less and less.

He's finding it difficult to see that as a bad thing. He's gotten his hand slammed in a car door before and that somehow hurt less. He wonders if he should be trying to get his hands on one of those hammers.

Unfortunately, for now, Riley's missed his chance. He wasn't going to stick around without knowing what he was up against. He's not sure if whoever was coming towards the kitchen was friends with 018 or not, but either way he's not interested. 018's not worth the risk; Riley is certain he'll get another chance.

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs before heading into the cell block. To say that he's checked every room in this place would be a vast overstatement, but he's gone in every direction he can think of in the lower half of the prison. They weren't at kitchen level or the one above it. He found a couple of girls in one of the rooms, but he didn't stay long enough to engage. His eyes need to be on the prize right now, there'll be time for everyone else. Ideally once he gets feeling back in the other half of his hand.

He lets out a slow breath as he stares into the first part of the cell block. If they're not hiding down here, Riley's not sure he's going to have time to make his way back up. There are three blocks and this is only the second one he's checking. He half-kicks himself for not doing more to soften his steps. It's not like he's chatting up a storm, but if they're listening hard enough they might still hear him.

Since when did either of them display any kind of listening abilities? He's not wrong about that one.

Riley scans the first room. It looks exactly the way he left it, with dark walls and no windows. He looks towards the center table and can't help but remember. This is where it all started; not only that, but this is where he made the stupidest decision of his life and that's saying something. He never should've believed a word out of Noam's stupid fucking mouth. Riley tells himself that he didn't, but then what good did staying here so long do? Whether he believed Noam or just hoped someone would swoop in and save them, he's still just as big of an idiot.

Life doesn't work like that. When you get yourself into deep shit, there's no one around that's gonna care enough to come save you. Those people don't exist.

Riley feels the space under his ribs tighten. He remembers Alec, laying vulnerable in a hospital bed because Riley didn't think it would ever get this bad. He knew what Alec's dad did. He begged Alec to get out, but he wouldn't. Riley is the one that ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. He wasn't able to keep him safe. So maybe those people do exist, but they never last.

He's not gone. Riley shakes the earlier thought so violently from his head that it gives him whiplash. He is going to see Alec again because he isn't dead. Riley's going to go back and say everything he was too scared to say. He's either going to kidnap Alec and take him across the border or finally make good on the threat he made to his father. Riley doesn't care which one.

He's going to be safe. He's not gone. Neither am I.


Cell Block B - 10:31 PM


Noam tells himself over and over again that what he's hearing isn't footsteps.

He can't bring himself to turn towards Vasi, who sits barely a half-meter away on the cot. He almost wants to laugh about what he thinks he's hearing, but that would probably be the stupidest thing he's ever done. They've sat here for hours and he's gotten used to the various sounds the prison makes down here. The last time he heard a sound like this was when he and Vasi were making their way in here. Those are footsteps.

What if they're not. Noam clenches his fingers tightly around the cot's frame. He needs to think of a plan, but that's not exactly his strength here. Everything up until this point has been good luck, and footsteps coming towards them might just be the biggest one eighty he's ever heard of.

Do something.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I supposed to do?

He doesn't realize he's been biting the inside of his cheek until his mouth becomes filled with the taste of iron. Apparently that's the slap across the face Noam needs because in the same moment he turns sharply towards Vasi. Their eyes are just as painfully wide as his feel. They haven't moved either.

Is that their plan? Are they just going to sit here and hope that, whoever it is, doesn't realize they're mere meters away? Is it possible that this is a coincidence and they're not even looking for Vasi?

And - most importantly - what is he going to do if this plan goes to shit?

Noam grabs their hand and turns it over until the palm is facing him. It takes a moment, but the blue-glowing numbers blink awake. There's only about an hour and a half left of this whole thing. What are the odds it takes longer than that for the intruder to reach them? Not excellent.

Vasi doesn't seem to realize that he was only checking the time. They close their hand and their fingers dig so deeply into his that the pain is immediate. Noam finds himself holding on just as tightly. Do something. What?! There's no more of an answer this time than a few seconds ago. Noam doesn't know what to do. He shouldn't have brought them here, where being cornered was so obvious. He'd hoped no one would dare come down here; it gives them both the creeps. Why would anyone want to be down here?

He swallows as the answer comes clearly when he looks up. For Vasi.

There's still too much time left before midnight.

Noam stands, his feet making no sound as they hit the ground but that's somehow still too loud. He looks at Vasi, looks at the ground, then the cell door that's splayed wide open. Close it; that's the obvious answer. Except when Noam looks, he can't even see the part of the door that would close them in.

Leave them here.

He shakes his head so violently that he can feel them staring at him. I won't. Not because Noam couldn't, because he certainly could. It would be easy enough to push them out ahead of him and scuttle away. He won't do it because he shouldn't; because for some reason the voice in his head telling him to leave them behind sounds just like his dad and he'd rather die than listen to him.

I'm not like you.

If you were, maybe you wouldn't be here.

If I were I'd fucking yeet myself off the Parliment Building.

Noam looks down and he still hasn't moved. He's no closer to the exit, no closer to a plan of escape, and for some reason that's a good thing. It means he isn't immediately taking the coward's way out because things got too hard. He isn't doing what his snake of a father did by throwing anyone inconvenient out of the way just to save his own fucking skin.

He cares about them. He messed up and he knows that, but he's fucking owning it and he's trying not to do it again. Noam knows why he felt so sick lying to everyone during the first day, it's because he sounded exactly like his dad. Isn't that what politicians do? Lie to people so that they're kept around when they have no one's best interest at heart beyond their own?

His dad would've been so fucking proud of him.

Noam might be a lot of things. He might be a coward, a snake, and one hell of a bad friend but he's not going to leave them now. Maybe it won't matter; maybe Vasi won't forgive him either way and you know what? Good for them. They don't have to but god dammit he's trying.

He's never tried this hard for anything in his life. Too late or not it feels good. He doesn't look down at his feet and hate the direction they're facing, because for once they're facing the right one. He's here, with Vasi, because they're his friend and they don't deserve to go through this alone.

Noam doesn't want to die. He hopes it's not going to come down to that, but as the footsteps get closer he understands that it just might. He clings to Vasi's hand and watches the cell's entrance.

At this point, all they can do is wait.


Riley stares inside every single cell he passes, but each time his steps seem to be getting slower. He doesn't want to go to the next one, and he doesn't realize why until his feet refuse to move towards it. It's the one where she died.

Lilliana. He hasn't thought of her in nearly a full day. Riley swallows and closes his eyes for a moment, remembering the scene so that he won't be surprised when he sees it again. The blood by the door, the handprint beside where she crumpled to the ground. He finds that he remembers it far too well.

He's still not prepared to see it again. Riley's hands tremble around his weapons as he looks inside. He wills the tears away, but instead they settle at the base of his eyelids. He doesn't force himself to step inside. He scans the cell long enough to know for certain that no one's hiding inside.

Then, he moves on.


Noam pushes them behind him when the shadow starts to creep along the floor outside their cell. It stops every so often, almost long enough to give Vasi hope that they're going to turn around. Of course they don't get so lucky. They tremble so close to Noam that they're sure he can feel every breath. Their eyes refuse to go anywhere but the front of the cell.

It's like the world's worst commercial break, endless waiting for something they know is going to happen but no way of knowing how long it'll last. Vasi's sure the people watching at home are thinking the same thing for a whole different font of a reason.

That's the last thing they think before they see him.

"Riley?"

Vasi can hear the surprise in Noam's voice and, truthfully, it almost makes them laugh out loud. Their legs are still trembling, but not nearly as violently. Of course it's him. Vasi takes a step so that they're almost in line with Noam again. Riley only stares.

And then he does the last thing Vasi expects - he actually smiles. For some reason, that's the thing that makes them take a step backwards. Nevermind that the group didn't split off on the best of terms, or that the last time they saw Riley he was screaming in Noam's face. Vasi doesn't think they've ever actually seen him smile.

It looks about as unnatural as a fried banana wearing sunscreen.

"Hey buddy," Noam tries, but his voice has changed. He seems a mere step below afraid and Vasi can't exactly blame him. They're only now remembering just how massive the inmate is. And the only step he's taken has been to block the entirety of the cell's entrance.

A chill runs up their spine and Vasi lays a careful hand on Noam's shoulder. He deflates under it and his gaze drops for a moment to the ground. Vasi isn't expecting the next words out of his mouth, but maybe they should've been.

"I'm sorry." The uneasy friendliness has been dropped completely, as has the smile that was just stretched across his teeth. "I fucked up. I know I did and you know I did. I shouldn't have lied to you and I'm sorry, man."

The room seems to pause completely and none of them even breathe. He sounds sincere, and Vasi thinks he must be. The two of them knew each other in prison, or at least that's what Noam told them. They have history, and Noam lied to him too. His apology should be sincere.

Vasi just wishes it didn't feel like a shot against the one they got. Their posture stiffens as they watch the ground, feeling suddenly like an intruder on their moment instead of an equal part. That isn't helped when Noam quite literally pushes them away from him.

They stumble and land half on the cot, looking up quickly but the two aren't where their eyes last left them. Noam is standing in front of them and Riley has come even further into the cell. It takes nearly a full ten seconds for them to realize what happened.

And not before they see the blood dripping to the ground in front of Noam.

"You think I'm a fucking idiot." Riley this time. He's moving closer and Vasi scrambles up even further on the cot. He's still blocking their exit and then there's the blood. Where's it coming from? Noam's hand reaches back towards him as if trying to block Vasi from view. At this angle, they can clearly see the long slice that opens up the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Come on, Riley."

"Come on and what?"

"You don't have to do this."

"What other fucking option is there, Noam?"

Vasi watches the two of them, their entire body trembling but unable to move. He cut him. All of the relief that Vasi had felt when they realized who was here melts away in an instant. He's going to kill us. Somehow they still can't believe that. It doesn't feel real. Not even the blood tinting the edge of his knife really sends the message home.

"I don't know," Noam says honestly. He's trying to move slowly towards the door, but Riley isn't giving up even an inch of the front portion of the cell. "We can figure something out, okay."

"As if anyone would believe you." Riley looks past him to them, and his eyes feel like daggers against Vasi's skin. Except once again they do believe him. There's been no mention of hurting Riley or anyone. They could work something out, maybe not forever but for now. That'd be enough. For now is enough when they can feel it slipping so quickly away.

Riley arcs out his knife without warning and Noam hits the ground before they can even react. Vasi screams as the blade barely misses them, a flash of silver in front of their face. They gasp and tumble backwards, off the cot entirely but closer to the door. Noam is up a second later and his eyes are wild as he searches Vasi for injuries. They try to shake their head but it's hard to know how successful they are. Their entire body feels like it's vibrating yet they can't even get their feet underneath them.

He's going to kill us.

He's going to kill us.

He's going to-

Noam grabs their hand but it's so slick with sweat that it slips straight through their grip. They're breathing too fast. The walls feel too close together. Riley's here, he's here but he's not moving any faster. It's like he knows, he knows he has every advantage except numbers but that's still not enough to deter him. Vasi tells themself to fight back, but how? Their baton is locked in a knot at their waste. Noam's is in exactly the same position.

Fight. How? It doesn't matter. Vasi feels arms reach under their armpits in an attempt to pull them up, but they're not necessary. They see blood dripping from Noam's elbow and something in them jumps straight up to standing. Their hands are empty in front of them, but that isn't even a consideration anymore. Noam grabs the back of their hood and that's the only thing that keeps them from lunging forward.

Riley sees the mistake he made. Noam drags his ally towards the exit that Riley's strayed too far from. He's being stupid. Why am I hesitating? There's no reason. He's going to kill them both and it looks like they're not even going to fight him on it. That's easier. It's pathetic but it's easier. They're going to die anyways and if it happens in the next hour he'll be rewarded for it.

It's not about how he feels.

He should feel good about it.

It doesn't matter now.

Riley steps back into the threshold and Noam is only a second behind in pulling Vasi back. Riley stands in front of them for several seconds, way too long, and all the three of them do is stare. Vasi looks up at Riley almost defiantly as Noam breathes heavily behind them. None of them move. Vasi sees what's about to happen, but too late.

They could stay where they are. They could duck but Noam's breaths aren't on their neck. He's not looking. It'll take them too long to turn around and grab him. It'll be too late. The choices are clear and Vasi makes theirs without hesitation.

Riley drills forward with the tip of the knife. It doesn't matter how piss poor his aim is because truthfully Riley doesn't expect to hit Vasi at all. He expects them to drop to the floor like Noam did, maybe fall to the side or otherwise move. Instead, what he sees are their hands as they come up in front of them and a decisive gleam in the eyes that never stray from him.

They could've moved. There was enough time. They could've moved and Riley doesn't understand why they didn't.

He stumbles off balance as his blade hits a target far closer to him than he expected. It sinks heavily into the base of their neck before tearing out the left side. Vasi's entire body spins with the momentum and knocks into Noam still standing behind them. He catches them, eyes widening as their head lulls at an obscene angle against his shoulder. In a matter of seconds, the space of concrete between Noam and Riley has turned red.

They both stare. Riley is against the cot where he didn't even realize he caught himself and Noam hasn't moved from where he fell into the wall. Blood bubbles to the floor with spots of foam that breathe more than any of the cell's contestants. It seems to be the only thing that moves. It soaks through the entire front of Noam's uniform and Riley's pants before either of them can even think to react.

"Vasilisa Zhukalova has been eliminated. Fourteen contestants remain."

Noam doesn't know what sound comes out of his mouth, but he's never heard it before. He throws Vasi's body to the ground as it keeps pouring from his lips. Almost immediately, he throws himself over Vasi again. They don't feel any different than seconds ago when he tried to help them to their feet. Except now they're dead.

He looks at Riley, but he hasn't moved from where he landed by the cot. He wants to scream, swear, say any of the colourful insults that only the children of divorce know about. Instead, the only thing that comes out is something resembling both an owl's screech and the sound a car makes when it crashes into solid metal.

You killed them. You killed them. You-

"You-" Noam can't make out another word as his hands tremble against the floor. It's wet and he knows what's made it that way, but he doesn't care. They're gone. It all happened so fast. Why didn't they move? Why did he let them stand in front of him? He doesn't know the answer. He can only assume that they didn't see it coming fast enough to react even though Noam knows that's utter bullshit.

"Congratulations, the target has been eliminated and you will now receive your reward."

Noam can see a spot of blue light in Riley's direction, but he can't clear the tears enough to know what it is. The voice isn't his, it's someone else. It's The Cut. Noam wants more than anything to lunge forward and shred it with his own two hands even if it won't make a shit of a difference anymore.

"Riley Lenihan, your advantage begins now."


15th: Vasilisa Zhukalova, 18


A/N: And we are back at it again. Less than a month is pretty good for me, hope you didn't miss this story too much. With nano in full swing I do hope to be able to get out another update fairly soon. No promises, though.

I would like to both thank and apologize to Linds, who created Vasi. They were such a complex character with many layers that I had fun playing with. I think having them in this fic was an absolutely perfect fit and I am grateful for the narrative they allowed me to play with. They'll be dearly missed. I hope you understand and thank you again for trusting me with this very special character. Oh and hope you're enjoying your visit.

And finally thank you to everyone still reading / discussing / reviewing / bribing me to write. I appreciate each and every one of you very much.

~ Olive