Author's Note – Quick question, does anyone have any interesting ways to write people walking? Cause I'm trying to shake things up but it's in the 'tension' section just now so it just draaaaagggggssss…

Vengeance

While the mines had been fruitful once upon a time, Amy wasn't sure how no miner ever got turned around. She had walked in the same direction for what felt like hours. Her feet were sure to be torn up as the ground against what felt like cheese graters in her boots. But as she walked, she couldn't help but listen to the soft rustling escalate in front of her. The sound mimicked stone grinding and falling into a cavern around her. There was no chasm to warrant the echo besides the slowly rising fence that grew with each footstep. Slats of brick and brack ran across the crude stone wall, hiding the marks she followed with their manufactured reassurances.

The dust-laden air had dried up with staleness inconsistent with the wilderness she knew to be close. Her throat burned with each new gasp as her journey caught up to her with little fanservice. She knew she would have stopped by now for anyone else, but Bumper needed her. And she knew she needed to find him.

Her fingers traced the wall as she fought to keep the gun upright with her other hand. Her knuckles trembled under the force she gingerly held the rifle with. But, as she continued, her attention was drawn towards the sounds around her. The rock grinding had faded away into slinking metal and what seemed to be rolling wheels. They didn't creak or scream, merely stretched the rust off the tracks without any pzazz.

The obscurity of the sound harboured her attention and accelerated her foot's motivation to move in that direction. Her hesitation dwindled as she grew nearer towards the end of the path. The tunnel broke apart around her, the grooves spanning wider like a mouth. But she was entranced by the slated metal door ahead of her. The choppy blocks of rusted iron stood alone with the poorly corroded lever sprawled across the main bracers.

Just as her hands wrapped themselves loosely around the lever, her heart raced making her force the door to fly open. Almost immediately a putrid smell blocked her nose and choked her. A texture close to a barrel worth of fermented flies oozed down her throat forcing her to bend over with the effort of her gag reflex. "Oh God!" Her wrist remained in front of her mouth in a forced placebo of aiding her attempt to keep her stomach acid down. Her steps pushed forward with the force of her will. She sought to continue on her pursuit. Each step was thunderous along the dark tunnel, but she did not relent. Even as her stomach flipped with every inch she moved.

They didn't speak. Benji wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not at that moment. He hung back, idly watching his girlfriend lead the way with sporadic measures. Her pattern was a wildly mosaic zigzag but somehow it was still more concise than what he would have done. Not that he doubted he could be blamed for his mindset. It isn't every day that your girlfriend claims to see your deceased friend alive and that your alive friend is newly dead. Recorded images of said death being replayed in front of your person for the culprit to watch your reaction and then leave you alone.

"Where are we going?" Emily didn't respond. Her focus remained on following her. He still wasn't sure what to believe. He wanted to trust her. To put his faith in the girl he loves but after tonight he wasn't sure how much of was still in the same world that he was. The voices. The solemn attitude. While he couldn't blame her for that one, he himself was in the same boat in that department, he was the same since-

He didn't continue that thought. He wished it wasn't true. That, like Beca apparently was, Jesse would turn around and laugh with him about the obscurity. Emily wasn't speaking about it. She wasn't dissuading or persuading him to continue moving along with her. As far as she was aware, he could still be miles behind, still reeling from her bombshell. The same bombshell he sought to find the truth about.

"Benji." A voice called, turning him around on the spot. He pivoted and searched the crumbling walls to find nothing but a lack of upkeep over the years.

"Nope." He fought to catch up to his leader before the chills froze him to the bone. He wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him or if that voice truly sounded that way. He wouldn't put it past him to distort the voice into a mechanical menagerie. Either way, he was willing to run face-first into the dust-filled air to step away from it. His hand looped around Emily's arm as he silently escorted her away at a brisk pace. She wanted to argue, to question, but something told her not to mention anything and pick up her pace to match his. And, before long, the tunnels were less outdated décor and became a renovated modernism collaboration style. The concrete walls were dented but held up well under the elements. "What the…" They weren't sure who spoke, but the sentiment was reciprocated. Before them stood a simple corridor leading down towards flickering lights. Every third pulse of light dragged on longer, showing the silhouettes of hanging strands projected onto the wall. But their other option was a weighted door. Metal slabs coated the rudimentary wood, but no amount of the wood grain was visible behind its armour.

In contrast to all around them, a fork in their path was the least of their worries but their stomachs still twisted at the thought of making a decision. Flashes of Jesse's scream shot out of his ears. The last choice made. Not by them, but the principle was the same. A choice, a simple one, just like this. Just like them. Benji hated it. So, with one big breath, he sighed. "Left." His nonchalance was fake. She knew it. He knew she knew. They both moved towards the door. Their hands pressed against the material, and they resisted the urge to flinch at the chill of the metal. With a heave, they grunted against the door making minute progress in opening it. Despite the weight, the hinges moved with swift silence until all the noise made was their own.

"On three." Benji nodded to her until she agreed. The door was being forced wider with each ladle worth of resistance they fought against. "One," They righted themselves so that their shoulders were pressed against the steel. "Two," The light on the other side of the room became obvious as they peered into the opening. "Three!" The two of them launched themselves through the gap, unrelentingly until the door slammed behind them. Their breath remained labour as they stayed on the floor in disbelief.

Sparks flew behind her eyelids. Aubrey wasn't even sure if her blinking was doing anything to ease the burning sensation behind them. All she could focus on was the wired bristle lodged behind her corneas as they twitched and fought to remain open. The feeling of a scrub brush in her socket was only partially alleviated as more of the world came into focus. Something she was thankful for. Her head hung loosely, lulling from side to side as she struggled to keep it upright on her shoulders. But before she could appreciate the darkness, floodlights sprang to life. Searing her blind. The suddenness of the action stopped her from doing much more than flinching. Her left hand reached up to protect herself as she tried to blink her eyes back into working.

"Shit!" A familiar voice hissed her thoughts. But even as she knew it was a bad choice, she peered towards her friend.

"Chloe." She sighed. The redhead continued to pull her arms in their restraints. Her wrists were bound to the metallic chair they both resided on. The girl's words of encouragement were as soundless as the knots were tight. Even with her injured vision, Aubrey could watch the growing red mars grow with each try. "Stop it!"

Her voice seemed to spark Chloe's into life. Her mimed cries were now audible to the echoes of the room. "No, no, no, no…" The same syllable was looped until she seemed to snap with the reality of the Blonde's presence. Her concentration flickered between the futile attempt at unravelling her ropes and checking their surroundings. The flickering fluorescent lights illuminated everything. The bulbs whirred more than her ears could think to process before she noticed the litany of discarded storage containers around them. Boxes half opened and bags that looked like a freshman's form luggage made the cushioned decorations for them to cherish. Everywhere else were filled with deep expanses of nothing. Only the small piles of broken cinderblocks framed around a thin school locker behind Chloe's perch. The locker, she supposed other than their restraints, was the only new item in the room. And even from a table width away, they both could tell the other realised this was not a good thing.

The next thing they knew a crackling entered the room. Where Aubrey sought to seek the source, Chloe surrendered her eyes to close in the distant wish to wake up in her bed. "Hello again, little mouse." The psycho rejoiced. "I apologise for the mess, I wasn't sure who my lucky test subjects would be for this… experiment." Benji and Emily, their minds offered. While their hearts continued to beat out of their throats, the faintest sliver was relieved that the lovebirds would be spared this particular torment. "Although, I must admit to being curious as to what the other test group would have done." His tongue clicked as his 'missed opportunity'.

"But all great tales must have an end, so lets see who's tale this shall be. Before you is a simple game, one passed down since the dawn of firearms. Russian roulette. On the table between you sits a simple device, one recognisable worldwide; a pistol." As if her tinted glasses were removed, they glance at their dividing obstacle to see the weapon for the first time. They did not dare look at the other person. The trance was only broken as the voice reignited. "Aubrey, you often take charge in the group so I shall honour your self-appointed 'role' and let you have the first turn. You, like Lily before you, must make a decision. A simple A or B choice. Your left hand is free to pick up the tool, that isn't the hard part." He chuckled airily before finishing his monologue.

"The hard part is choosing who to aim it at. It's your choice, Aubrey, you or her." He waited to see their reactions. Lurking to see the nibbles of dread and guilt worm their way into each set of eyes. "I'll leave you alone, enjoy."

Tears tore their way down Aubrey's cheeks as she stared solely at the gun. She was raised around guns and knew how to clean them, take them apart and reassemble them but this one was foreign to her. She could recognise the make; the model and she knew how it would feel in her hand. But she could never think about this Glock. Would never think to pick this one up.

But his voice was still in her ear. You or her. You or her. How could she choose? She didn't want to die. Not like Jesse. Not like Beca. Not like Stacie. She wouldn't die up this mountain. But, in some twisted aspect, she could see why she should. The others were here because of her. She chose to pull the prank. Chose to tear them apart for nothing more than her own satisfaction. It didn't matter what she felt afterwards, nothing would change what she had done. Something Chloe had never done. The redhead didn't have the blood on her hands that she did. She fought against them. Tore them down and ignored them for months after the fact. The same time that it took for Aubrey to process what she had done and even then she had still denied it even though deep down she knew she deserved to be tormented.

She couldn't even tell CR the whole truth without the girl prying. It would've been easy to fix things. To have not twisted the knife in all of her friends, to have not used her phone as leverage against them all. She knew they believed her to have deleted the video from that night. That she would wish to rinse her hands from all her misdeeds but she knew that there was her most watched video on her phone. Deep in the archives despite the frequency she had replayed the same twenty-seven-minute video. She couldn't delete it even if she wanted to. It was the last video she had of her friends alive and well.

The memories of how the video continued long past the revelation of their prank propelled her hand to lift the weighted metal from the table in front of her. She could remember how the audio after Beca had left the room showed her callous lack of concern as she continued to make snide remarks about her being too emotional.

Her eyes swam with unshed tears. "Aubrey?" Chloe wished she could put more bite behind the name. Despite it all, she wished her friend would look at her. To see the truth in her eyes as she spoke and not to delve too deep into the gun in her hands. "What are you doing?" She continued softly so as to not spook her. But, even as she fought to keep her eyes on her friend, she couldn't stop them from flicking up over their heads. "Aubrey, look at me, okay? Just look at me," The girl wouldn't listen, too absorbed in her own thoughts to realise the growing panic in her companion. "Aubrey!"

The woman in question jumped at the sudden interruption but couldn't keep her eye contact. "You'll be okay, it wasn't your fault." She uttered. Her chest heaved with each passing thought until her resolve steeled itself.

"Aubrey! Don't!" Chloe fought harder against her restraints.

A sardonic smile was all she got in return. "I'm sorry."

"No, no no." She continued to fight before, in a spur of desperation she shouted her final attempt. "Look up!" It was enough to cut through, and in her shock, Aubrey followed what she was asked to do. Stopping all in the room from doing much more than breathing.

She knew she could stand and stare at the blood for only so long but that did nothing to dissipate her anger towards it. She had long since passed the stage of fear and terror. She now only harboured rage towards the one responsible. She hated that he was doing this to them. That he had planned for them to come down the mountain, down that trail. He knew they would come to the cable cars to escape. Or that they would even get past his barricade and to remove the master key for the cable car's control panels. But most of all she hated what he did to Jesse. She hadn't seen it, hadn't even absorbed the tale of what happened to him. But the fact he was the first victim – the only victim, her mind supplemented – it wasn't fair in her eyes.

"Fuck this." She muttered as she peered around the tortured room. She knew what she was looking for, she had walked past it every time she made it here. The only question was, what had he done to it? A small shimmer emanated from behind the furthest filing cabinet. Her relief was noticeable to Lily who watched from afar. CR worked the frame loose. The glass cracks wracked around the main image but luckily did little to obscure what she was searching for. The lightning marks only accentuated where she was hoping to find her solution like a guiding hand. A quick flick of her eyes told her that while Lily perused their surroundings, she was still within hearing distance. Something she was thanking her for in her mind. She wasn't sure if her voice could remain strong if she had to project it. "We need to go here, the Fire tower. It'll have a radio for emergencies." After all that was how they contacted the rescue teams a year prior…

Lily's response was to pick up some of the debris CR had left discarded on the floor. Her fingers found purchase on one of the sharper pieces. The rigid exterior gave the impression of a garden scythe that she couldn't help but be glad the irony was falling in their favour this once.

And another cursory glance later had the duo leaving the shelter. Suddenly the cold didn't seem so bad to them as they squared up to face the cold. Another long trail ahead of them.

They remained on the floor for a lot longer than they had intended. All around the couple was pinned paper stuck to the walls with string connecting each layer of the paper Mache coating the bare concrete. The paper was crumpled and beaten but the writing on each page was eligible to his untrained eyes. Diagrams and explanations were everywhere. Benji knew that while he was too far away to understand the writing, he would not cherish his findings. His eyes had been glued to one page in particular ever since his first scan. A hand-crafted diagram of a saw. The saw. He could still hear the drawing whir to life.

Before he could think, he had thrown himself onto his feet and was at the picture. His fingers traced the pencil marks, noticing the uneven scripture that was similar to him. The recognition did nothing to spark anything other than fear within. "Is that-" Emily started to cut in. She sounded lucid for the first time since the séance. But Benji was too focused on one aspect of the drawing. He could understand – in the most twisted depraved crevice of his mind – that you would need to have working diagrams if you wanted to pull off this… game. But he didn't understand how he would know where they would all be. Looking at the title on the page he was looking at, he was greeted by a simple two-word explanation that did nothing, Jesse's game. The premeditation for the victim. The thought that his friends were chosen for a reason had him scouring the rest of the papers. Rudimentary drawings included. A chain system for binding their captives. A stretcher straight out of medieval times. And down all the way to his plans for the saw systems. All the pages were carefully sketched out and thought over. All the neglected designs gave clear indicators of their faults. But, for each 'test' lay a name beside them. Each name repeated and varied but they all culminated in the same cluster. Their friends. Them. This was all preordained.

His name appeared. Emily's. Chloe's. Each and every one of them with only one exception, CR's. Her name only marred a singular page. One that was half complete and barely thought about. The scribbles were different from the others. Seemingly more rushed than the others but the only thing that seemed to stand out from the rest of the words was 'Warning'. A cursory glance had a small illustration of a pig's head. Nothing spectacular about the scratchy sketch apart from minor notes. Saline, corn starch and gelatine were linked to parts of the head. "Huh." He gasped. He didn't understand the link but another scan across Jesse's page had him whirring.

Emily joined him. Her own eyes tried to keep up with his as she fought to catch a glimpse into his thought process. She had seen his intrigue, but she didn't see anything more than sketches she wished to block from her mind. She didn't wish to seek the progression of their potential deaths. She supposed the saying was true; ignorance truly was bliss. So, while he sought the answers, she looked around the room in barely veined interest. Her interest was truly more for their surroundings than the schematics. Which was how she caught sight of the small controls in the next room over. Past all the flimsy metal shelves which swayed with each step they took past them. Past the assortment of props and various outfits.

As if she was compelled to do so, she walked towards the panels. Her fingers itching at the potential they would have. Small monitors flickered above the desk the controls laid upon. A series of keys littered the panel. And, as she pressed one experimentally, the screen flickered from the snowy trail to an empty bathtub. "Chloe,"her friend said. The woman's scream filled her ears with enough force for her hands to attempt to clasp over them. She flicked the button again and it went back to the same trail it had been on prior. Glancing at the other options to press, her curiosity won out. The middle camera flickered into the basement, the heavy door hung wide open but no sign of life near it. And the last camera switched into another room, one similar to the one she was in. Only with different residents inside. "Benji!" She cried out. Her own gasp stopped from the sight before her.

"Yeah! Wha-" He stopped his words. His arm rested on the desk as he leaned in for a closer look. "Aubrey?" Only one of the captives remained visible to the camera, the other's back being the only part on screen.

Aubrey choked on her spit as she struggled to think. "Is that?"

"A saw?" Chloe answered in a shocked light-heartedness. Her disbelief came through at the situation they were in. "Yes, I believe they are." And, like an elephant in the room, they would not remain unrecognised. As they both came to realise the situation was more than they had believed, the saws came to life for the second time that day. It started off slowly, a gentle rotation like a windmill on a spring day but every few seconds the rotation quickened.

"Stop pressing buttons!" Emily screamed. Benji's heavy-handed approach wasn't doing anything as he kept screaming for the saws to stop. He had tried to get a better look, and pressed the button he assumed would be relevant for their friends to make it out intact only for the same sound as before to start. Only this time the ground rumbled under his feet.

And with another flick, the voice rang out, stilling all those who listened.

"It seems as though you need some encouragement." He tutted at the crying girls. "Even now, you cannot see the truth. I suppose I can help aid you with your choice." The saws didn't stop as he waited for a dramatic pause. "If you don't make a decision, the saws shall come down upon you. They are programmed to drop down in sixty seconds so, might I suggest being quicker this time. But if you choose to do nothing then," His laugh was drowned out by the distorted crackling of the radio. "Well, it's a good thing this room needs a new paintwork."

The radio crackled itself to death. A litany of emotions washed over Aubrey's face before she whispered a small apology. "No, don't do this to me!" Chloe cried out. "You promised!"

The blonde looked over at her, her own mind shadowed by her past before she spoke. "What's one more bad deed, I'm sorry but…" She trailed off as she steeled her shoulders and placed the gun to her temple. Her face cringed unimaginably tight as her finger sought the trigger and pulled.

Neither of the spectators wished to watch but much like a train crash, they couldn't pull themselves away from the sight. Not until the reality sunk in. There was no bang. No flash. The only recoil that happened was the unconscious flinching from all those involved. But, as it stood, only one sound was heard.

"The saws." Emily breathed. Her desperation grew as she saw the blades build up traction. "Please! Please, help us Beca!" It was a desperate plea, one she hoped garnered a reaction from their personal ghost. As if on cue, her voice rang out in an exaggerated deadpan. She took off like a bat out of hell with Benji only a few steps behind.

The rifle hung heavily in her hands. The shivering in her arms continued while she remained vigilant in her patrol of the old building. Although the walls were in better upkeep than the old mining tunnels and subsequent buildings, the only part of the structure to remain intact were the walls to keep the frostbit air out. She had followed the same path for too long as she soon realised she was running out of track to walk on. The old stone floor gave out into rotting wood as soon as she broke off up three small steps.

She almost tripped over the deep dents strewn across the floorboards. But as she gripped her gun tighter, she turned around in the confined corridor. The solid walls soon gave out into archaic cells. Iron bars striped from floor to ceiling although all the rooms remained open, she couldn't help the pit that settled within her stomach as she passed more and more of the same identical room until she was entranced by the only sign of life in the place. A soft rattling in the distance. While she considered the fact it was likely to be a rat, her heart argued that it was the very person she was seeking. And with the agility of a thousand drunk horses, she bounded down towards it. Her focus was more on what could be awaiting her at the source than what she was passing by.

The metal bars were rusted with integrity. Every trace of the bevelled material sanded back a layer of skin with ease. The rattling increased within the cell before her although no light was shining within the confines. "Hello?" Her brazen attitude dulled itself with hesitancy she never let herself feel. The rifle continued to be held at the ready. She let a hand reach before her towards the cell's lever. The archaic contraption to the left of the door.

"No!" A voice screeched. Amy halted in her progress to look behind her. "Stop it!" The voice continued. It was raspier than she was used to but she knew she recognised it from somewhere. She danced forwards waiting until the next noise. "Don't hurt her!"

That's the phrase that broke through her brain fog. The urgency was infectious as she raced towards it. "Stacie?"

Neither girl had a chance to breathe before the door burst open. Their relief was overshadowed by their desperate pleading. "You found us!" Chloe cheered in confusion and relief. Aubrey seconded her statement but before either of their rescuers could even attempt to pull their binds loose. A repeat of the voice rang out.

"Now, outside interference was against the rules. A shame really. This test has now ended." The saws kicked started with more enthusiasm. As soon as the announcement ended, the saws dropped an inch. The sudden jolt forced them all to start moving. And when the voice started to count down from three, their efforts doubled. "Three." Benji's fingers burned as he fought against the ropes. "Two." Emily tried to ignore Chloe's reassurances that it wasn't her fault. "One." They all stopped. Aubrey and Chloe stared at each other in resignation. "Zero." Everything fell on deaf ears. Nothing mattered as their heads lulled backwards and their eyes shut themselves welcoming the darkness to engulf them.

Aubrey waited for the saws to fall. Her eyelids quivered under the megaton of force she clenched them with. Her shoulders worked overtime as a facemask while her arm remained bound to her metal throne. The rigid structure chafed into her limbs without any added squirming. Hesitantly, her eyes awakened. The lightbulb bled a green tint across Chloe's face, transforming her with a twisted massacre of Christmas. Her mouth remained contorted into a mute scream. Even with a table between them, they could see the mirrored confusion as well as she could feel her own.

Yet, as morbid as her curiosity was, it was the roof that gathered Aubrey's attention. Her ears hummed as she registered the metal had fallen to a standstill. The gears continued to rotate but as the lever hovered over their heads, it never lowered past a certain spot. The force of the movements breezed across her face, cooling her cheeks as it went.

"What the-" Their wonderment united until a screech stretched their eardrum's discomfort further. It was the only thing to warn them of the extra company in the room. That was until he provided his own commentary along with their thoughts.

The laugh. His laugh perforated the air. It was slow and drawn out, the methodical beat hammered into their bodies. A scurry of frozen dread worked through the blonde's skin as she stared at his unhinging jaw. His arms slapped silently at his body while he continued his victory lap around the room. She let her eyes drop the burning tears down her cheek while she struggle within her confines. The rusted metal dug further into her skin more than the previous tightness had allowed.

Her lungs faltered in retaining the stale air around her. "Why?" She whispered. Her voice hushed his laughter into a dull chortle.

"Why?" He mocked, his deep voice lightening to mimic a valley girl accent. "Why?" He lurched towards them; his steps hidden behind Emily's body. By proxy Benji followed suit into throwing himself between his friends and the danger. Despite the lack of thought in his actions, his shoulders squared involuntarily as he processed how much taller their assailant was. His subtle act of intimidation seemed to fall on deaf ears. "Why? I'll tell you why." His mask peered around the blockade. Slim cracks roamed the curvature of the ghostly complexion. The roots looped the hollow mouth in such a way to accentuate his false fangs. Yet, despite his appearance, Aubrey's eyes locked onto his. A soft edge glittered behind the sharp prominent rage. "I'll need you to tell me something first."

Chloe scoffed. Her face had turned a shade darker as she fought to control her trembling limbs. "We owe you nothing!" In an instant the flittering softness faded away into obscurity. All previous compassion filtered into unabashed disdain. She didn't cower when his attention stuck on her. "You tried to kill us! We trusted you!"

"Just like I had trusted you." Unlike his appearance, his voice remained soft, almost wistful in reflection. Aubrey saw the same look in his voice. His eyes stared off but remained to follow their movements. Nothing was behind the stare. No anger. Nor frustration. Only forlorn restraint. And, just as quickly as it had been there, it snapped out with a blaze of fire. "You owe me everything!" His veins bulged and he rarely blinked away the brewing tears. The soft trails dampened against the bare concrete below.

Emily watched as Beca stalked towards the psycho. Her movements as soft as the rest of her gaze. The contrast between their figures was enough to pop the thought into allowed curiosity. "Who are you?" Before the brunette's hand could trace the mask, his laughter shot out with vigour.

"Me? I am no one. Not someone you would notice on the street, nor someone you would take the time to speak with." His eyes showed flickers of resentment with each passing moment of his monologue. His posture toyed with them as he teetered in front of the furthest away from their huddled collection. His heavy boots slipped silently as he danced his tango with all of his new partners. "But you," He forced yet another laugh, this one broken and warped. "You lot are… You are special. You prance around with your designer clothes. Never paying attention to those you strut past while speaking in your latest phone uncaring of those you squash on your way to and fro. You never had to work to get to where you are now!" His fangs salivated with each word he pressed through. "You three continue on as if you… as if you deserve the air you breathe."

Chloe's attention broke away from the man. Her eyes taking interest in counting the individual strands of the cobwebs littering the corners of their tomb. The distraction snapped Aubrey into speaking abruptly. "You're gonna punish us because we're rich?" The disbelief thickened her vowels. Even as she fought to read through his lines, the words jumbled into obscurity as quickly as they were understood.

"No." He stopped. His singular word prevented any bite from working loose in her mouth. "You were close, I will give you that." He churned the cud in his mask. "It is not because of your stature in society. I'm not that shallow. I just noticed a few things when I saw you all." Only one other set of eyes in the room seemed capable of following along with him. A small fact which seemed to set his teeth on edge. "You squandered your potential. You," He jutted towards Emily. "spent your life being exactly what your daddy wanted you to be." His tirade twisted towards Aubrey before moving back towards Benji. "And you let yourself be controlled and demeaned by everyone you call a friend. All of these things on their own can be excused, everyone makes mistakes but you seem to weaponize it every chance you get together." All his previous composure had faded until he was left to gesticulate openly at them. "I mean, how many people were silence by Amy? How often did you torment people into letting you run the latest school club? How many times did you watch idly behind your group and watch them run around rampant? How many people did you kill?" His body reset as he seethed the final word. His arms locked themselves behind his torso until his silhouette broadened.

"Look, I get it. We get it. But we haven't seen your face, we can't identify you. Let us go, it's not too late for us to change." Emily pleaded. "We can do it."

The masked man tilted his head in thought. A hum followed his efforts while they waited on bated breath. A gentle rhythm stirred on his chin as his fingers gently played against the plastic. "What do you think?" He moved around them until he knelt beside Chloe, resting his chin on her shoulder in a faux secret discussion.

"Please, sir, we're sorry. We'll change." Benji offered, his voice stuttered over the title for their tormentor like an after effect. The masked whistled out a hush as he waited for the girl to respond. She forced herself to gulp as she looked around to her friends.

"What do you think? Will they change?" Before she could even speak her head was shaking from side to side. Her body trembling under the pressure and her resistance to accept the situation was taking control of her. "No?" His voice lilted at the question, raising in pitch as he rose to his full height. "That's a shame." Nothing about him matched the disappointment in his words.

"No!" She screamed as her actions sunk into her leaving a cold chill throughout. He didn't stop himself from moving backwards with a swing in his step. The locker behind framed him like a school child in the middle of recess.

"Stacie?" Her hand didn't hesitate this time, instead unlocking the cell with enthusiasm. She was sure that voice was true. "Stace, it's me, Amy." In lew of a greeting she repeated her words. The cell door took a moment to work its way open again. The metal tore against the rail as she levered it faster. Her fingers rubbed themselves raw against the material. The metal rattling escalated the closer she got to the end of the stone walls. Where Stacie's tears had once filled the air, the new staleness was followed up by a gristly rupturing sound. But she moved quickly towards it – too quickly – but her curiosity was in control. A reflection in the cell caused her to cease up. Her body took a moment to slam to a complete halt until she was a meter away from the concrete wall.

What happened to the rustling? she thought to herself. There had been someone there before her. She had heard them. She had seen the movements in the shadows but there she was, surrounded by dense stonework and a stubborn breeze. A steady stream of droplets smashing into the ground behind her. Even as her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room her arms loosened their grips on the gun to reach for her phone. She knew there would be no signal even before the glaring NO SERVICE took purchase on the bottom of her home screen. But she scrolled idly past that to pull down the top bar for the torch icon.

The beam did wonders for the ambience. Long gone were the twisted dark corridors and creaky artefacts strewn across her journey. Now she saw the very thing that drew her attention to a slamming stop. Deep gouges were carved from the stone walls. The indents were longer than her hands upon inspection. But, as she lay her fingers in the grooves, they remained the same width as each digit she rested within them. The more she inspected the etchings, the greater the breeze behind her got.

"Stop it!" Stacie shouted from behind her. On instinct, she turned around, her arms at her side but before she could process what she was doing, her throat felt tight. Her breath coagulated just as quickly as it formed. She tried to hack up a cough only for more weight to fall into her chest. She could feel her hands move quickly to her throat. Her efforts to claw an airway were futile as her fingers slid off her neck. Her hands were too slick. Too slippery. Just as she realised it, one large air bubble worked up her throat, burning every muscle on its way until she spat what she thought would be a lung. But even as she fought to remain on her feet, her body swayed too far until she slid down the closest wall. Another bubble came to the surface, this time she managed to catch a hand over her mouth. Warmth splattered across her fingers until she realised what she had done.

Blood.

Her Blood.

"Wait!" Emily's head had whistled through the conversation. Her mind twisted while her face contorted in each swivel. All their eyes moved onto her figure. Her own locked firmly into the vacant distance past Benji's presence. "What do you mean?" Her words echoed each person's thoughts. Even the psycho paused in his administration to watch the show. Her eyebrows twitched and her chest heaved until the knees beneath her wobbled like jelly. Her trembling hands cupped her mouth as she repeated her denial like a broken record.

Seeming out of confusion, the modulated voice held no menace as he muttered to himself. "I haven't even hurt you yet."

"What do you mean!" Tears tracked down the brunette's face when her knees buckled completely. No one could tell if she knew her fall was broken by Benji's arms. "You're lying! Amy can't be dead!" While the others didn't understand the weight of her words, Benji did. He might not know how she was doing what she was doing, but he knew that she was right more often than not about what their 'friend' was saying. His eyes went downcast for a moment because while he wasn't the closest to Amy, he was still in the same room as the one responsible for two deaths that night.

And with the recklessness of the one he was seeking to avenge; he threw himself at their captor. His fists bashed against the unfighting shoulders before something kicked in for the psycho. His gloved hands wrapped warmly around Benji's wrists. "You killed her!" He roared; his voice more forceful than it ever had been.

"I did-" The man released a left hook before their tormentor could finish. It takes a minute for his confusion to relieve his sense slightly. His disbelief about his actions clogged everything about him as he continued to throw punch after punch towards their assailant. He didn't have a plan beyond intimidation.

He knew he wasn't a violent person. But as his knuckles fought against the hard material of his mask, he couldn't find it within him to stop. With each new pulse of pain, his anger grew. The growing frustrations from today ebbed out until all he could focus on was the mental ache. The heartache. And so his hand was telling him, the physical ache. He wanted to fight back. To avenge Amy, for Jesse. And to stop whatever was happening behind him. He wanted the person responsible to pay.

His chest was too tight like he was breathing out through a straw. But he's terrified that he won't win when the other person starts to fight back. Strangely he was quiet. Too quiet. The only noise he was making was wheezes that brought joy to his soul. Blood was freely painting his clean mask. He swings again. And again. Until the blood sends his hand sliding off his face, with the mask coming along for the ride.

The face that met him stilted his fist in the air. He could feel himself stumble back onto his feet until he looked down upon the man. Bile raced up his throat but it was Aubrey that saved him the burden of words.

"Jesse?"