S044-Karen Nguyen-Start!
When Karen awoke, she noticed she was lying the floor, behind the desk of an unfamiliar building. She rose from the floor and found what looked like a reception area. She noticed what looked like a prison cell. She began breathing shakily, the reality and fear of her current predicament gripping her.
Being forced to play Survival of the Fittest. What a cruel twist of fate. Karen had been studying her whole life under her parents' watchful eye to be a lawyer. They wanted her to attend law school and work for their law firm when she graduated. But now, all their efforts were a waste. Karen was now stuck on an island where she would have to fight her classmates. How many of her classmates attended this winter ski trip? Over one hundred? She had a one in one hundred plus chance to survive. If she wanted to survive, she'd have to...
After a taking a minute to calm down, Karen deduced that she must be in some kind of sheriff's office. She didn't see nor hear anyone else at the moment, so she knelt down behind the reception desk, and inspected the contents of her bag. She had some food and water, an extra jacket, a flashlight, a first kit, and finally, her weapon. It was a small handgun with four barrels. She wasn't an expert on guns, so she couldn't determine the exact model or name for it. She decided to put it back in the bag for now, and looked at the map.
The sheriff's office was in some mining town. If she had to move to another location, she'd need to choose carefully.
Prison Within a Prison
Starting Point of S044 (OPEN)
Beatrice Briggs had never really minded the cold.
It was why she hadn’t deviated much from her usual outfit for the ski trip. A lot of the time, when her classmates mentioned the temperature had dropped, or asked her if she wasn’t freezing, she would tell them that she honestly hadn’t noticed it. She liked the way it felt when she breathed in, imagining powder snow settling on the inside of her throat, before breathing it all out again in a cloud of dragon fog. If she got too cold, then she could just button her jacket up, or head indoors. She figured that the physical exertion from skiing and any other activities would help in that regard too.
There was a chill hanging in the air now, radiators and boilers left to run themselves dry years ago. She liked it. It was quiet. It was still. It was calming. Even more reasons for her to prefer it to the heat. She was glad that they played lacrosse during the spring while the weather was still cool, but even then, there were days that made her feel like her skin was sizzling. Her clothes would stick to her body, making her anxious and uncomfortable until she could change or take a shower; of all the horrible textures in the world, the feeling of sweat-soaked fabric was one of the very worst.
Beatrice was sure that if the temperature on the island had been at those levels, she would still be huddled underneath the table in the staff lounge, curled up in the fetal position.
As it was, she had already suffered through the initial period of sobbing and trembling and trying her hardest not to throw up, and now she stood, barely moving, facing the little kitchenette space. She had weathered the worst of it, and while she could still feel the marks on her cheeks left behind by her own tears, she was standing tall, with all her belongings new and old on her person, able to think straight once more.
She was thinking, right now, about the coffee mugs and glass tumblers resting on the draining board and lying in the sink in front of her. She looked down at them, fingers drumming against the handle of her broadaxe as she did so, ring then index then middle, as always. There was a ring of faded brown on the inside of several of the mugs, coffee dried to the point that it was now indelibly part of the pattern. There was the imprint of a stranger’s lips against the rim of one glass. She glanced inside one mug, then hurriedly looked away as she came face to face with a layer of bright green mould. One mug said ‘Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’. She didn’t really understand what that meant.
She sniffled, and let out a shaky little sigh. She didn’t understand what she was supposed to do, now, either.
The main option that had been presented to her, that was absolutely out of the question. She didn’t want to even think about it; she could feel bile rising up her throat as she stood there. The most appealing goal, escaping harmlessly and safely, had effectively been wiped off the board as an option. She had always hated her classes where there was no ‘right’ answer to everything. She needed there to be a single point for her to work herself towards, else she just ended up spinning in circles.
Tap tap tap. Ring finger, index finger, middle finger.
Well, right now, she was alone in this building, whatever it happened to be. There were no loud noises, no unpleasant textures on her skin. It was as much of a welcoming environment as Beatrice could have asked for, considering everything else that was going on. Maybe for now, she could start exploring the area. She didn’t really know where she was, after all; she hadn’t been able to read the map provided. It would be a start. She could try and think of it that way.
She turned to leave, still clutching her broadaxe diagonally across her body. As she moved, her bags swung, the momentum sweeping them across the edge of the counter, collecting several of the most precariously abandoned mugs. Most of them sailed into the sink, rattling around, bouncing against each other with a horribly loud clattering sound, but two of them flew right off the draining board entirely, onto the floor, shattering at Beatrice’s feet. She jumped, letting out a gasp and a hiccup of shock. Her eyes widened. Her grip on the broadaxe tightened. Her legs started quivering, while her feet refused to move even a fraction.
She really, really hoped she was all alone now.
It was why she hadn’t deviated much from her usual outfit for the ski trip. A lot of the time, when her classmates mentioned the temperature had dropped, or asked her if she wasn’t freezing, she would tell them that she honestly hadn’t noticed it. She liked the way it felt when she breathed in, imagining powder snow settling on the inside of her throat, before breathing it all out again in a cloud of dragon fog. If she got too cold, then she could just button her jacket up, or head indoors. She figured that the physical exertion from skiing and any other activities would help in that regard too.
There was a chill hanging in the air now, radiators and boilers left to run themselves dry years ago. She liked it. It was quiet. It was still. It was calming. Even more reasons for her to prefer it to the heat. She was glad that they played lacrosse during the spring while the weather was still cool, but even then, there were days that made her feel like her skin was sizzling. Her clothes would stick to her body, making her anxious and uncomfortable until she could change or take a shower; of all the horrible textures in the world, the feeling of sweat-soaked fabric was one of the very worst.
Beatrice was sure that if the temperature on the island had been at those levels, she would still be huddled underneath the table in the staff lounge, curled up in the fetal position.
As it was, she had already suffered through the initial period of sobbing and trembling and trying her hardest not to throw up, and now she stood, barely moving, facing the little kitchenette space. She had weathered the worst of it, and while she could still feel the marks on her cheeks left behind by her own tears, she was standing tall, with all her belongings new and old on her person, able to think straight once more.
She was thinking, right now, about the coffee mugs and glass tumblers resting on the draining board and lying in the sink in front of her. She looked down at them, fingers drumming against the handle of her broadaxe as she did so, ring then index then middle, as always. There was a ring of faded brown on the inside of several of the mugs, coffee dried to the point that it was now indelibly part of the pattern. There was the imprint of a stranger’s lips against the rim of one glass. She glanced inside one mug, then hurriedly looked away as she came face to face with a layer of bright green mould. One mug said ‘Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’. She didn’t really understand what that meant.
She sniffled, and let out a shaky little sigh. She didn’t understand what she was supposed to do, now, either.
The main option that had been presented to her, that was absolutely out of the question. She didn’t want to even think about it; she could feel bile rising up her throat as she stood there. The most appealing goal, escaping harmlessly and safely, had effectively been wiped off the board as an option. She had always hated her classes where there was no ‘right’ answer to everything. She needed there to be a single point for her to work herself towards, else she just ended up spinning in circles.
Tap tap tap. Ring finger, index finger, middle finger.
Well, right now, she was alone in this building, whatever it happened to be. There were no loud noises, no unpleasant textures on her skin. It was as much of a welcoming environment as Beatrice could have asked for, considering everything else that was going on. Maybe for now, she could start exploring the area. She didn’t really know where she was, after all; she hadn’t been able to read the map provided. It would be a start. She could try and think of it that way.
She turned to leave, still clutching her broadaxe diagonally across her body. As she moved, her bags swung, the momentum sweeping them across the edge of the counter, collecting several of the most precariously abandoned mugs. Most of them sailed into the sink, rattling around, bouncing against each other with a horribly loud clattering sound, but two of them flew right off the draining board entirely, onto the floor, shattering at Beatrice’s feet. She jumped, letting out a gasp and a hiccup of shock. Her eyes widened. Her grip on the broadaxe tightened. Her legs started quivering, while her feet refused to move even a fraction.
She really, really hoped she was all alone now.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
((S064 - Karin Han - Game Start))
KARIN, a physically unimpressive girl with a severe case of Resting Bitch Face, lies on the cot inside the jail cell. She groans, rolling her head from side to side, before sitting bolt upright and cradling her head in her hands.
Uggh...
Karin awoke in a cold sweat. She'd been dreaming again. It started out as the same dream she always had, where the aliens came back and dragged her off to their ship. In these dreams, her family were always there, sitting in the living room, doing ordinary things that ordinary people did. Karin always screamed at them, but they never looked up. "See?" she would howl. "They're real! I told you!" But they just carried on about their business, as if she never existed. Sometimes they got up and closed the window. Sometimes they smiled at one another, as though they were glad that the aliens had finally come back to finish what they'd started. But this time, the aliens took her to school. While she watched, they shot one of her teachers in the head with a laser pistol, and blew another one's throat out with a force field collar. But it was all right now. It was just a dream. Everything was fine.
(Karin opens her eyes)
What the...
Actually, things were not fine. They were not fine at all. Karin looked around, and realized that this was not her room, or her bed. She was in a small jail cell, and a duffel bag was placed neatly by the foot of the cot she was laying on. Her heart filled with dread as she realized that it hadn't been a dream at all. It had been real. She'd been abducted, all right, but not by aliens. By human beings.
Ghhk...
The memories came roaring back all at once. She remembered about the death game and all of the rules that she had to follow. If she wanted to get out of here, if she wanted any shot at getting back home and seeing her family again, she was going to have to outlast over a hundred of her classmates. That was a very tall order for a very short girl. But that wasn't her most immediate problem.
(Karin rattles the cell door. It doesn't open)
Seriously!?
Scene 1
Sheriff's Office, InteriorKARIN, a physically unimpressive girl with a severe case of Resting Bitch Face, lies on the cot inside the jail cell. She groans, rolling her head from side to side, before sitting bolt upright and cradling her head in her hands.
KARIN
Uggh...
NARRATOR
Karin awoke in a cold sweat. She'd been dreaming again. It started out as the same dream she always had, where the aliens came back and dragged her off to their ship. In these dreams, her family were always there, sitting in the living room, doing ordinary things that ordinary people did. Karin always screamed at them, but they never looked up. "See?" she would howl. "They're real! I told you!" But they just carried on about their business, as if she never existed. Sometimes they got up and closed the window. Sometimes they smiled at one another, as though they were glad that the aliens had finally come back to finish what they'd started. But this time, the aliens took her to school. While she watched, they shot one of her teachers in the head with a laser pistol, and blew another one's throat out with a force field collar. But it was all right now. It was just a dream. Everything was fine.
(Karin opens her eyes)
KARIN
What the...
NARRATOR
Actually, things were not fine. They were not fine at all. Karin looked around, and realized that this was not her room, or her bed. She was in a small jail cell, and a duffel bag was placed neatly by the foot of the cot she was laying on. Her heart filled with dread as she realized that it hadn't been a dream at all. It had been real. She'd been abducted, all right, but not by aliens. By human beings.
KARIN
Ghhk...
NARRATOR
The memories came roaring back all at once. She remembered about the death game and all of the rules that she had to follow. If she wanted to get out of here, if she wanted any shot at getting back home and seeing her family again, she was going to have to outlast over a hundred of her classmates. That was a very tall order for a very short girl. But that wasn't her most immediate problem.
(Karin rattles the cell door. It doesn't open)
KARIN
Seriously!?
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Just then, Karen heard what sounded like the clattering and breaking of glass, and the rattling of a cell door. She realized that she was not alone in this building.
"Seriously!?"
A voice from close by. Was someone inside the cell? Karen must have been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn't notice. She peaked out from behind the reception desk and looked over at the cell. There was a girl, even more petite than Karen was. It looked like she was having trouble opening the cell door. Perhaps if she helped this girl, she could acquire a new ally.
"H-Hey," Karen said, "Are you okay?"
"Seriously!?"
A voice from close by. Was someone inside the cell? Karen must have been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn't notice. She peaked out from behind the reception desk and looked over at the cell. There was a girl, even more petite than Karen was. It looked like she was having trouble opening the cell door. Perhaps if she helped this girl, she could acquire a new ally.
"H-Hey," Karen said, "Are you okay?"
(Skipped with permission)
Karin's heart had skipped a beat when she heard someone else coming, accompanied by what sounded like breaking glass. To her surprise, it was only Karen Nguyen. Karin refused to mentally refer to her as Karen-With-An-E, or by her full name as most teachers tended to do, and had tried to go the nickname route. She'd bounced a few potential candidates off of Soo-Bin, variously calling her Taller Karen, Older Karen, Debate Club Karen, or Fat Karen, but none of those nicknames had really stuck. Eventually she'd settled on referring to the taller, older, and slightly less rail-thin Karen as simply Karin Plus. Over time, poor spelling and mental laziness had morphed it into simply Karen+.
Karin didn't particularly like Karen+, but at this point she was a godsend. She didn't seem likely to attack Karin on sight, like a few other people might have. And if she could help Karin get out of this cell before someone bigger and angrier showed up, Karen+ would be new bestie material for sure. Sorry, Soo-Bin, that's what you get for staying home from the winter trip and leaving me here to die by myself!
She clutched the bars and tried to look helpless and frightened. It didn't take a lot of effort, given the circumstances. "I'm... I'm fine, but I'm stuck in here. I can't get the cell door open. Can you see if there's a key or something?"
Karin's heart had skipped a beat when she heard someone else coming, accompanied by what sounded like breaking glass. To her surprise, it was only Karen Nguyen. Karin refused to mentally refer to her as Karen-With-An-E, or by her full name as most teachers tended to do, and had tried to go the nickname route. She'd bounced a few potential candidates off of Soo-Bin, variously calling her Taller Karen, Older Karen, Debate Club Karen, or Fat Karen, but none of those nicknames had really stuck. Eventually she'd settled on referring to the taller, older, and slightly less rail-thin Karen as simply Karin Plus. Over time, poor spelling and mental laziness had morphed it into simply Karen+.
Karin didn't particularly like Karen+, but at this point she was a godsend. She didn't seem likely to attack Karin on sight, like a few other people might have. And if she could help Karin get out of this cell before someone bigger and angrier showed up, Karen+ would be new bestie material for sure. Sorry, Soo-Bin, that's what you get for staying home from the winter trip and leaving me here to die by myself!
She clutched the bars and tried to look helpless and frightened. It didn't take a lot of effort, given the circumstances. "I'm... I'm fine, but I'm stuck in here. I can't get the cell door open. Can you see if there's a key or something?"
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Karen walked over to the cell door. She rattled it a bit before looking down and noticing something. This cell door didn’t swing open like the front door of a suburban house, but instead slid open like a sliding glass door. Karen pulled the cell door to her right, and it slid open, freeing Han.
“There we go,” she said calmly.
Karen turned back in the direction where she heard the sound of shattering, then back to Han.
“Let’s hope whoever else is in here is friendly,” Karen said. She then made her way back behind the reception desk to retrieve her duffel bag.
“There we go,” she said calmly.
Karen turned back in the direction where she heard the sound of shattering, then back to Han.
“Let’s hope whoever else is in here is friendly,” Karen said. She then made her way back behind the reception desk to retrieve her duffel bag.
It didn’t take long for that hope to drift away like a loose leaf in the fall breeze.
This was never going to be simple; not for her, not for anybody. That wasn’t how this abduction had been designed, for there to be an easy solution for anybody to figure out after thinking it over for a short while. Whatever the point of this whole thing was, it certainly wasn’t that. But if she had been gifted that brief moment of isolation, then she thought that it could have, maybe, been tolerable. That it would have allowed her to have walked for a few hours with her back straight and her head held up high.
Instead, she was cowering next to the sink, knees knocking together, listening to the voices filter into the staff room, audible enough that they had to be nearby. One person would have been bad enough, but there were definitely two voices in conversation, two other people sharing this building with her.
At least two people, she reminded herself, before quickly wishing that she hadn’t.
There was something else alongside the voices, a strange metallic rattling sound, like… well, Beatrice wasn’t quite sure what it might have been. Was somebody hitting a chain link fence? She didn’t know what kind of building would have something like that inside, though. She didn’t have any idea what this building could be. This staff room didn’t give her any clues. The unlit corridor visible through the doorway didn’t give any assistance. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t know who was sharing this mystery building with her or what was making that noise, she was getting so extraordinarily frustrated that she was struggling to think straight, on top of the panic and fear that felt frozen inside of her, and… and…
Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Ring finger, index finger, middle finger. Ring finger, index finger, middle finger. Tap tap tap. She just needed to breathe. She just needed to try her hardest to breathe. She needed to repeat that motion, repeat it over and over, she needed to…
She needed to get out of this room, she realised, and continue with her previous goal. It made her heart sink to realise it, because she knew the chances of running into whoever else was in here with her. But she had to start getting some idea of where she was, and what kind of situation she’d been put into, or else she would be stuck in here forever. If there was anything encouraging, it was that there hadn’t been any footsteps, or other signs of movement towards her since she’d swiped the mugs onto the floor. Maybe they were preoccupied with something else; with that rattling of metal, perhaps.
Well, whether she liked it or not, she was surely going to find out soon enough.
Beatrice took a wide berth around the cluster of shattered ceramics, not daring to risk treading on even the tiniest piece and making even more of a noise and a mess. The corridor she stepped out into wasn’t long, but she crept along it at barely half her usual pace, looking around herself the entire time, ready to jump as soon as a single shadow shifted out of place. Eventually, linoleum turned into carpet, and she stepped out into a much larger room, dredged in off-white and beige, filled with uniform rows of desks and dividers, the same make of computer sitting in the middle of each workstation. It was comforting, in its own way. It was calming.
It still didn’t tell her anything about where she might be.
She sighed, giving the handle of her broadaxe a quick squeeze, before moving towards the desks. Maybe there would be something there that could help her out, something left behind that would give her some idea of what this building had been used for. And even if there wasn’t, it was something to do, something to keep her occupied, and-
Her right foot pressed down onto the carpet, and a bellowing creak followed with it, the sound of floorboards, untreated and uncared for, making their indignation known. Beatrice froze on the spot once again. Her bag continued its motion once more. It smacked into one of the dividers, a heavy thudding noise joining the cacophony of bending wood.
She wasn’t usually this clumsy. Why now, when she was trying to be as quiet as possible, had she seemingly lost all control of her actions?
This was never going to be simple; not for her, not for anybody. That wasn’t how this abduction had been designed, for there to be an easy solution for anybody to figure out after thinking it over for a short while. Whatever the point of this whole thing was, it certainly wasn’t that. But if she had been gifted that brief moment of isolation, then she thought that it could have, maybe, been tolerable. That it would have allowed her to have walked for a few hours with her back straight and her head held up high.
Instead, she was cowering next to the sink, knees knocking together, listening to the voices filter into the staff room, audible enough that they had to be nearby. One person would have been bad enough, but there were definitely two voices in conversation, two other people sharing this building with her.
At least two people, she reminded herself, before quickly wishing that she hadn’t.
There was something else alongside the voices, a strange metallic rattling sound, like… well, Beatrice wasn’t quite sure what it might have been. Was somebody hitting a chain link fence? She didn’t know what kind of building would have something like that inside, though. She didn’t have any idea what this building could be. This staff room didn’t give her any clues. The unlit corridor visible through the doorway didn’t give any assistance. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t know who was sharing this mystery building with her or what was making that noise, she was getting so extraordinarily frustrated that she was struggling to think straight, on top of the panic and fear that felt frozen inside of her, and… and…
Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Ring finger, index finger, middle finger. Ring finger, index finger, middle finger. Tap tap tap. She just needed to breathe. She just needed to try her hardest to breathe. She needed to repeat that motion, repeat it over and over, she needed to…
She needed to get out of this room, she realised, and continue with her previous goal. It made her heart sink to realise it, because she knew the chances of running into whoever else was in here with her. But she had to start getting some idea of where she was, and what kind of situation she’d been put into, or else she would be stuck in here forever. If there was anything encouraging, it was that there hadn’t been any footsteps, or other signs of movement towards her since she’d swiped the mugs onto the floor. Maybe they were preoccupied with something else; with that rattling of metal, perhaps.
Well, whether she liked it or not, she was surely going to find out soon enough.
Beatrice took a wide berth around the cluster of shattered ceramics, not daring to risk treading on even the tiniest piece and making even more of a noise and a mess. The corridor she stepped out into wasn’t long, but she crept along it at barely half her usual pace, looking around herself the entire time, ready to jump as soon as a single shadow shifted out of place. Eventually, linoleum turned into carpet, and she stepped out into a much larger room, dredged in off-white and beige, filled with uniform rows of desks and dividers, the same make of computer sitting in the middle of each workstation. It was comforting, in its own way. It was calming.
It still didn’t tell her anything about where she might be.
She sighed, giving the handle of her broadaxe a quick squeeze, before moving towards the desks. Maybe there would be something there that could help her out, something left behind that would give her some idea of what this building had been used for. And even if there wasn’t, it was something to do, something to keep her occupied, and-
Her right foot pressed down onto the carpet, and a bellowing creak followed with it, the sound of floorboards, untreated and uncared for, making their indignation known. Beatrice froze on the spot once again. Her bag continued its motion once more. It smacked into one of the dividers, a heavy thudding noise joining the cacophony of bending wood.
She wasn’t usually this clumsy. Why now, when she was trying to be as quiet as possible, had she seemingly lost all control of her actions?
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
It took Karin a half-second to process Karen+'s words. She was still feeling like an idiot for not being able to get the cell open. It was a stupid mistake, but somehow in the fear and- Wait, the glass breaking hadn't been her? There was someone else in here breaking stuff, and Karen+ didn't know who it was? That was bad! That was seriously bad!
She grabbed her bag and practically tore it open, then started pawing through it for anything that she could use to defend herself. The only thing that resembled a weapon... something bright and orange... was that a power drill!?
Karin was momentarily dumbfounded. She picked up the unwieldy tool and squeezed the trigger. It revved up with a distinctive VRRP! VRRRRP! sort of sound. What kind of weapon was this supposed to be? Couldn't they have given her a gun or something? Unless the mysterious third person was armed with a bag of screws, Karin didn't like her chances here. Well, fuck it. She didn't have any better options at this point. Shaking her head in disgust, she shouldered her bag and exited the cell to crouch behind the reception desk with Karen+.
There were more noises now, creaking and thumping from elsewhere in the building.
Karen kept her voice low, just above a whisper. "All I have is this drill. What'd you get?"
She grabbed her bag and practically tore it open, then started pawing through it for anything that she could use to defend herself. The only thing that resembled a weapon... something bright and orange... was that a power drill!?
Karin was momentarily dumbfounded. She picked up the unwieldy tool and squeezed the trigger. It revved up with a distinctive VRRP! VRRRRP! sort of sound. What kind of weapon was this supposed to be? Couldn't they have given her a gun or something? Unless the mysterious third person was armed with a bag of screws, Karin didn't like her chances here. Well, fuck it. She didn't have any better options at this point. Shaking her head in disgust, she shouldered her bag and exited the cell to crouch behind the reception desk with Karen+.
There were more noises now, creaking and thumping from elsewhere in the building.
Karen kept her voice low, just above a whisper. "All I have is this drill. What'd you get?"
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
More noises. This time it was the creaking of the floor, and a thud. Whoever was in here with Karen and Han, was probably not in the best of moods. Han rummaged through her bag and found a drill. That was probably her assigned weapon. She then asked what Karen got for her weapon. Karen debated with herself whether or not to disclose that information. If Han found out Karen had a gun, that might sew tension between them. However, it could also show Han that Karen trusted her, leading to an alliance of sorts.
"Okay," Karen sighed as calmly as possible, "I have a pistol. It's not big, but it could be powerful."
Karen pulled out the gun from her duffel bag, then gave Han a serious look.
"I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't trust you," said Karen, "And that's because you're the only one I've met so far, and you don't seem hostile."
Karen looked down at the gun, then in the direction the noise came from, and back to Han.
"I'm not looking to use this, unless it's absolutely necessary," Karen said, and then asked, "Can I trust you to have my back if things get out of hand?"
"Okay," Karen sighed as calmly as possible, "I have a pistol. It's not big, but it could be powerful."
Karen pulled out the gun from her duffel bag, then gave Han a serious look.
"I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't trust you," said Karen, "And that's because you're the only one I've met so far, and you don't seem hostile."
Karen looked down at the gun, then in the direction the noise came from, and back to Han.
"I'm not looking to use this, unless it's absolutely necessary," Karen said, and then asked, "Can I trust you to have my back if things get out of hand?"
Had they… not heard her?
That couldn’t be possible. Every noise that she had made had sounded like a bomb going off right next to her. And while it was true that everything had been amplified, her breath catching in her throat and her heart feeling like it had paused both times she’d bumped into something, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been making noise. Glass shattering was loud. Bumping into desks was loud. She had been able to hear the sound of distant talking and of rattling metal. There was no way that the other people in here hadn’t heard her, was there?
And yet, there were no creaking floorboards from further inside the building. There were no footsteps slowly treading closer and closer towards her. She knew she wasn’t alone inside of this building, but for now, in this room, she only had herself for company.
And she didn’t understand why.
She truly didn’t see how they couldn’t have heard her; for the time being, she was tentatively discarding that as a possibility. Were they unable to reach her, for some reason? She couldn’t imagine what could be preventing them from finding her, though, either. A locked door, maybe? Something else blocking their path? She didn’t know. She couldn’t think. Maybe, instead, they had been as frightened as she was, wary and alert due to the noises coming from somewhere unseen. Frederick had always told her, while gathering up a glass and a slip of paper from the drawer in the kitchen, that spiders were just as afraid of her as she was of them. He had said that they were curious and cautious, and that if you didn’t do anything to startle them, they would happily leave you alone and co-exist with you.
Maybe it would work the same way here. Maybe if she said something to reassure the other people in here that she wasn’t a threat, that she didn’t plan on causing any trouble or harm, then neither her nor they would need to worry any longer.
Beatrice opened her mouth to call out to them.
No words came out. No words would even form.
What if they weren’t afraid? What if they were planning something? What if they were hunters?
She took one hand off of the axe for a moment, just in time to cover her mouth and prevent the small cry of fear from escaping. It had been at the back of her mind ever since she had woken up, that she could at any point run into someone who had taken Danya’s words to heart, someone who had decided they needed that single kill as soon as possible to make their survival guaranteed. She had been trying, so desperately, not to consider that the other people in this building could have been of that ilk. But now it had pushed its way into her head, interrupting all her other thoughts, and and now she couldn’t shake the idea that she was stuck in here with a group of potential killers.
It was lucky, in a sense, that her feet were frozen to the floor. Her body was trying to force herself backwards, as far away as possible from any entrances to this room, an act that would have simply made her collide with one of the desks again. She didn’t dare make a sound. She could scarcely even breathe. She had to do something, she had to…
Hide.
That was all she could think to do, she had to find somewhere to hide in this room, right now. Out of sight, until either everyone else in this building left, or she could see another answer available.
Beatrice grabbed hold of her bag with one hand, grimacing at the too-smooth texture of the duffel bag, but digging her fingers in anyway to make sure it didn’t smack into anything as she moved. She sidled between desks, glancing across at every entrance to the room every couple of seconds, breathing in and holding as she slipped past abandoned office chairs and dividers left askew, until she reached the desk closest to the far wall. She ducked down, scrambling into the alcove underneath, shrouded in shadows. She pressed her knees tight to her chest, the broadaxe sandwiched between her legs and her chest, her hands once again wrapped tightly around it.
She shut her eyes for a moment. For a moment, she was holding her lacrosse stick again. For a moment, she was sitting on a bench in the girl’s changing room back in Salem.
Tap tap tap.
That couldn’t be possible. Every noise that she had made had sounded like a bomb going off right next to her. And while it was true that everything had been amplified, her breath catching in her throat and her heart feeling like it had paused both times she’d bumped into something, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been making noise. Glass shattering was loud. Bumping into desks was loud. She had been able to hear the sound of distant talking and of rattling metal. There was no way that the other people in here hadn’t heard her, was there?
And yet, there were no creaking floorboards from further inside the building. There were no footsteps slowly treading closer and closer towards her. She knew she wasn’t alone inside of this building, but for now, in this room, she only had herself for company.
And she didn’t understand why.
She truly didn’t see how they couldn’t have heard her; for the time being, she was tentatively discarding that as a possibility. Were they unable to reach her, for some reason? She couldn’t imagine what could be preventing them from finding her, though, either. A locked door, maybe? Something else blocking their path? She didn’t know. She couldn’t think. Maybe, instead, they had been as frightened as she was, wary and alert due to the noises coming from somewhere unseen. Frederick had always told her, while gathering up a glass and a slip of paper from the drawer in the kitchen, that spiders were just as afraid of her as she was of them. He had said that they were curious and cautious, and that if you didn’t do anything to startle them, they would happily leave you alone and co-exist with you.
Maybe it would work the same way here. Maybe if she said something to reassure the other people in here that she wasn’t a threat, that she didn’t plan on causing any trouble or harm, then neither her nor they would need to worry any longer.
Beatrice opened her mouth to call out to them.
No words came out. No words would even form.
What if they weren’t afraid? What if they were planning something? What if they were hunters?
She took one hand off of the axe for a moment, just in time to cover her mouth and prevent the small cry of fear from escaping. It had been at the back of her mind ever since she had woken up, that she could at any point run into someone who had taken Danya’s words to heart, someone who had decided they needed that single kill as soon as possible to make their survival guaranteed. She had been trying, so desperately, not to consider that the other people in this building could have been of that ilk. But now it had pushed its way into her head, interrupting all her other thoughts, and and now she couldn’t shake the idea that she was stuck in here with a group of potential killers.
It was lucky, in a sense, that her feet were frozen to the floor. Her body was trying to force herself backwards, as far away as possible from any entrances to this room, an act that would have simply made her collide with one of the desks again. She didn’t dare make a sound. She could scarcely even breathe. She had to do something, she had to…
Hide.
That was all she could think to do, she had to find somewhere to hide in this room, right now. Out of sight, until either everyone else in this building left, or she could see another answer available.
Beatrice grabbed hold of her bag with one hand, grimacing at the too-smooth texture of the duffel bag, but digging her fingers in anyway to make sure it didn’t smack into anything as she moved. She sidled between desks, glancing across at every entrance to the room every couple of seconds, breathing in and holding as she slipped past abandoned office chairs and dividers left askew, until she reached the desk closest to the far wall. She ducked down, scrambling into the alcove underneath, shrouded in shadows. She pressed her knees tight to her chest, the broadaxe sandwiched between her legs and her chest, her hands once again wrapped tightly around it.
She shut her eyes for a moment. For a moment, she was holding her lacrosse stick again. For a moment, she was sitting on a bench in the girl’s changing room back in Salem.
Tap tap tap.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
"Can I trust you to have my back if things get out of hand?" asked Karen+.
It wasn't that Karin was untrustworthy. Well, all right, she was. But that wasn't why she was lying in this specific instance. Like, she wasn't about to steal Karen+'s gun in the middle of the night and leave her to die, or anything. She was pretty sure it'd be hard to get away with that, at least until she'd built up a little more trust. No, the issue here was that Karin couldn't really see herself as useful backup. It was hard to imagine a scenario where someone would see Karen+ holding a gun and go, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I could take her down," but then see that she was backed up by a much smaller, weaker Karin wielding a power drill and go, "Whoa! Things just got dangerous! I'd better steer clear!"
But Karin didn't want to die, and telling a potential ally that you were completely useless in a combat situation didn't really seem like an optimal move. If Karen+ didn't know that Karin would be the lousiest backup imaginable, then Karin wasn't gonna tell her. So she summoned up a few years' worth of drama club experience and used it to whisper back, "Yeah, totally!"
She looked towards the other room, where all the creaking and thudding was coming from. Whoever was in here with them, they weren't making any effort to introduce themselves.
"So what do we do?" she hissed softly. "Should we check it out, or just make a run for it?"
It wasn't that Karin was untrustworthy. Well, all right, she was. But that wasn't why she was lying in this specific instance. Like, she wasn't about to steal Karen+'s gun in the middle of the night and leave her to die, or anything. She was pretty sure it'd be hard to get away with that, at least until she'd built up a little more trust. No, the issue here was that Karin couldn't really see herself as useful backup. It was hard to imagine a scenario where someone would see Karen+ holding a gun and go, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I could take her down," but then see that she was backed up by a much smaller, weaker Karin wielding a power drill and go, "Whoa! Things just got dangerous! I'd better steer clear!"
But Karin didn't want to die, and telling a potential ally that you were completely useless in a combat situation didn't really seem like an optimal move. If Karen+ didn't know that Karin would be the lousiest backup imaginable, then Karin wasn't gonna tell her. So she summoned up a few years' worth of drama club experience and used it to whisper back, "Yeah, totally!"
She looked towards the other room, where all the creaking and thudding was coming from. Whoever was in here with them, they weren't making any effort to introduce themselves.
"So what do we do?" she hissed softly. "Should we check it out, or just make a run for it?"
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
[S119 - Julia Guercio - START]
Tranquility.
There was something unnaturally reposeful about being curled up on the bathroom floor. That soothing feeling of your warm skin up against the cold tiles. A necessary refuge whilst the party continued in the next room. She didn't drink much but whenever her sister Chiara had tempted her to have a few beers and the occasional shot of tequila at one of their parties, it never seemed to take long before she needed a lie down; an innocent pit stop. If she couldn’t find her bed then the bathroom floor became a gloriously impromptu pit stop.
Wait...
As she slowly came to her senses that tranquility in her mind had started to turn to delirium. A million thoughts ran through her mind as she started to piece things together. She wasn't at home. There was no loud music or party happening in the background. Her surroundings were alien. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep listening to music. Where was the bus? Had there been a crash? How about the others? She didn't know too many people on the trip as she usually stuck to herself but surely they hadn't all just ran off and left her? She didn't even want to go that badly but her parents had talked her in to it. Supposedly it would be a good opportunity to reconnect with her classmates after going off the grid during the lockdowns. Now she was being pranked? So much for new friends.
"Not funny guys", Julia mumbled under her breath as she gathered herself.
Standing up she dusted herself off, peering around the bathroom which could really only be described as rickety. The air was bland and tasted barren. In the corner by the door was a tan duffel bag and her jacket draped over the sink. It wasn't until she rubbed her face with the sleeves of her sweater that she noticed just how cold her skin was. Wherever she was it was practically baltic. Rubbing her eyes she noticed the cracked mirror above the sink and started to zoom in on her face. Her hair, usually tidily tucked off her face, was instead scruffily clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes slightly bloodshot and her lips crisp and starting to fissure. As she worked her way down her face it wasn't until she reached her neck that her jaw dropped.
There was an involuntary gurgle in her throat as her bottom lip fell and her eyes widened. The metallic choker she had just spotted suddenly felt heavy on her neck, as if it was suffocating her and closing in. She felt a rush of dizziness as her hands raised to grip the collar tight. This supposed prank had taken a very sinister turn.
This wasn't meant to happen anymore. It was meant to have been stopped. There were no senior end of year trips for a reason. Was it back? And more importantly, how has she ended up caught in the middle of it? As she battled the mental anguish of the moment, she heard a creak in the room outside of the bathroom.
Was there somebody there?
Julia fell to the floor quietly, crawling over to the duffel bag to rummage inside. She'd heard the rumours and myths about this game and the horror stories of people turning on their friends. Without any strong connections she immediately knew she was at risk if people started picking targets.
She was a sitting duck.
There was nowhere to hide in the small box bathroom. There was no window to climb out of and nowhere to go. The second somebody opened that door she was going to be completely exposed. Grabbing her duffel bag she crawled to the corner behind the door and clung to the corner of the wall. Maybe they won't come in to the bathroom? Surely nobody is thinking about the toilet in circumstances like this?
The creaking of the floor boards. The squeaking of footprints and the hushed tones of indistinguishable whispering.
There was no escape. What was she supposed to do?
Tranquility.
There was something unnaturally reposeful about being curled up on the bathroom floor. That soothing feeling of your warm skin up against the cold tiles. A necessary refuge whilst the party continued in the next room. She didn't drink much but whenever her sister Chiara had tempted her to have a few beers and the occasional shot of tequila at one of their parties, it never seemed to take long before she needed a lie down; an innocent pit stop. If she couldn’t find her bed then the bathroom floor became a gloriously impromptu pit stop.
Wait...
As she slowly came to her senses that tranquility in her mind had started to turn to delirium. A million thoughts ran through her mind as she started to piece things together. She wasn't at home. There was no loud music or party happening in the background. Her surroundings were alien. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep listening to music. Where was the bus? Had there been a crash? How about the others? She didn't know too many people on the trip as she usually stuck to herself but surely they hadn't all just ran off and left her? She didn't even want to go that badly but her parents had talked her in to it. Supposedly it would be a good opportunity to reconnect with her classmates after going off the grid during the lockdowns. Now she was being pranked? So much for new friends.
"Not funny guys", Julia mumbled under her breath as she gathered herself.
Standing up she dusted herself off, peering around the bathroom which could really only be described as rickety. The air was bland and tasted barren. In the corner by the door was a tan duffel bag and her jacket draped over the sink. It wasn't until she rubbed her face with the sleeves of her sweater that she noticed just how cold her skin was. Wherever she was it was practically baltic. Rubbing her eyes she noticed the cracked mirror above the sink and started to zoom in on her face. Her hair, usually tidily tucked off her face, was instead scruffily clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes slightly bloodshot and her lips crisp and starting to fissure. As she worked her way down her face it wasn't until she reached her neck that her jaw dropped.
There was an involuntary gurgle in her throat as her bottom lip fell and her eyes widened. The metallic choker she had just spotted suddenly felt heavy on her neck, as if it was suffocating her and closing in. She felt a rush of dizziness as her hands raised to grip the collar tight. This supposed prank had taken a very sinister turn.
This wasn't meant to happen anymore. It was meant to have been stopped. There were no senior end of year trips for a reason. Was it back? And more importantly, how has she ended up caught in the middle of it? As she battled the mental anguish of the moment, she heard a creak in the room outside of the bathroom.
Was there somebody there?
Julia fell to the floor quietly, crawling over to the duffel bag to rummage inside. She'd heard the rumours and myths about this game and the horror stories of people turning on their friends. Without any strong connections she immediately knew she was at risk if people started picking targets.
She was a sitting duck.
There was nowhere to hide in the small box bathroom. There was no window to climb out of and nowhere to go. The second somebody opened that door she was going to be completely exposed. Grabbing her duffel bag she crawled to the corner behind the door and clung to the corner of the wall. Maybe they won't come in to the bathroom? Surely nobody is thinking about the toilet in circumstances like this?
The creaking of the floor boards. The squeaking of footprints and the hushed tones of indistinguishable whispering.
There was no escape. What was she supposed to do?
“Follow my lead,” Karen said to Han, softly.
Karen entered the office area, gun in her coat pocket. She scanned the room of cubicles. This place clearly hadn’t been used in years. Whoever was causing the commotion was probably hiding.
“Okay, could you keep watch while I investigate?,” Karen asked Han, “There might be something in here we could use. Something more useful than that drill.”
Karen took a step into the maze of cubicles and began searching through the desks as quietly and quickly as possible. She kept quiet in case she heard anyone try to sneak by her. She looked for anything that could be used as an additional weapon, such as a pair of scissors, or a letter opener, or even a stapler. After coming up short while searching through some empty drawers, she came across a bathroom to the side of the office. She knocked on the door.
“Hello?,” Karen said quietly, waiting for an answer.
Karen entered the office area, gun in her coat pocket. She scanned the room of cubicles. This place clearly hadn’t been used in years. Whoever was causing the commotion was probably hiding.
“Okay, could you keep watch while I investigate?,” Karen asked Han, “There might be something in here we could use. Something more useful than that drill.”
Karen took a step into the maze of cubicles and began searching through the desks as quietly and quickly as possible. She kept quiet in case she heard anyone try to sneak by her. She looked for anything that could be used as an additional weapon, such as a pair of scissors, or a letter opener, or even a stapler. After coming up short while searching through some empty drawers, she came across a bathroom to the side of the office. She knocked on the door.
“Hello?,” Karen said quietly, waiting for an answer.
(Skipped with permission)
Karin dutifully stood watch while Karen+ searched the office, warily scanning the office area. Nothing appeared to be completely out of place - which was odd in and of itself. She had definitely heard the sound of glass breaking earlier. But the carpet was relatively clean, by dingy, nasty office carpet standards. No shards of glass anywhere. And a cursory glance told her that there were no broken windows in this room, and all of the monitor screens were intact. So where had that noise come from?
While Karen+ rifled through the desks, Karin took a closer look at the computers - or, rather, at the total lack of computers. All of the monitors had been left here, but the towers were gone. No chance of hopping on the internet and sending an email for help, or checking the news to see if anybody was even aware that they were missing yet. She looked over at Karen+, who seemingly had come up empty in her search for alternative weaponry. Not so much as a staple remover. Well, you had to hand it to these terrorist jerks, they were certainly thorough.
As her partner approached the bathroom and knocked politely, Karin circled back to take a look at the desks closest to the far wall. Karen+ hadn't checked those yet, and- a floorboard creaked loudly and distinctively under her foot.
Okay. She'd definitely heard that noise before, not long before she and Karen+ had entered the room. Thoughts flitted into her mind, and her heart began to race. Okay. Someone had been in here, creaking around the place. And now they were... where? In the bathroom? No, that wasn't right. Wait, why not? Oh! Right. The door. They would've heard the door close. Duh. Okay. So the person had to be down that hallway, or... still in the room?
Better to sweep the place, just to be sure. Karin held the drill out in front of her with both hands, like she was a cop investigating a dangerous crime scene, and headed towards the desks in the back.
Karin dutifully stood watch while Karen+ searched the office, warily scanning the office area. Nothing appeared to be completely out of place - which was odd in and of itself. She had definitely heard the sound of glass breaking earlier. But the carpet was relatively clean, by dingy, nasty office carpet standards. No shards of glass anywhere. And a cursory glance told her that there were no broken windows in this room, and all of the monitor screens were intact. So where had that noise come from?
While Karen+ rifled through the desks, Karin took a closer look at the computers - or, rather, at the total lack of computers. All of the monitors had been left here, but the towers were gone. No chance of hopping on the internet and sending an email for help, or checking the news to see if anybody was even aware that they were missing yet. She looked over at Karen+, who seemingly had come up empty in her search for alternative weaponry. Not so much as a staple remover. Well, you had to hand it to these terrorist jerks, they were certainly thorough.
As her partner approached the bathroom and knocked politely, Karin circled back to take a look at the desks closest to the far wall. Karen+ hadn't checked those yet, and- a floorboard creaked loudly and distinctively under her foot.
Okay. She'd definitely heard that noise before, not long before she and Karen+ had entered the room. Thoughts flitted into her mind, and her heart began to race. Okay. Someone had been in here, creaking around the place. And now they were... where? In the bathroom? No, that wasn't right. Wait, why not? Oh! Right. The door. They would've heard the door close. Duh. Okay. So the person had to be down that hallway, or... still in the room?
Better to sweep the place, just to be sure. Karin held the drill out in front of her with both hands, like she was a cop investigating a dangerous crime scene, and headed towards the desks in the back.
V8 Characters:
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
Juanita Reid
Rebekah Hayes
Karin Han
EXTREME STEVE Dodds
As the soft whispers and light footsteps closed in on her, Julia tried her best not to panic. Instinctively she held her breath as she stood there hunched awkwardly in the corner of the bathroom, waiting for somebody to barge through those doors and finish her off. Maybe with a gun, or something worse like an axe or a knife. Whatever it was that was waiting for her outside, she could only pray that it would be quick and painless.
Was that dubious mercy too much to ask?
Every few seconds the silence was broken by the sounds of somebody ruffling through whatever was outside of her small enclosure. It sounded like the rattling of pens and the closing of draws. Perhaps whoever was outside didn't actually know she was in there and just wanted to find something in the other room? The airy drum-like footsteps got louder until it was clear the other person was stood adjacent to her on the other side of the door. At most there could only be a meter separating them.
Then the mumbles stopped. It could only have been a few seconds of stillness but it felt like minutes had passed. Julia breathed lightly as she waited for that door to open, raising her duffel bag to protect her face and closing her eyes as her pulse raced with nerves. The inevitability of her fate seemed crushing.
But it never came.
Instead she was met with a knock at the door and a hesitant voice asking, "Hello?". How was she meant to react to that? The voice didn't sound threatening but she only had seconds to react and her life was potentially at stake. Every rational thought was telling her not to say a word, to avoid confrontation and hope that they would take silence to mean it was empty. But what if they opened the door anyway and found her perched there?
"H-hello?," she impulsively blurted out in spite of her better instincts, immediately regretting it.
"It's Julia. Who's there?"
Was that dubious mercy too much to ask?
Every few seconds the silence was broken by the sounds of somebody ruffling through whatever was outside of her small enclosure. It sounded like the rattling of pens and the closing of draws. Perhaps whoever was outside didn't actually know she was in there and just wanted to find something in the other room? The airy drum-like footsteps got louder until it was clear the other person was stood adjacent to her on the other side of the door. At most there could only be a meter separating them.
Then the mumbles stopped. It could only have been a few seconds of stillness but it felt like minutes had passed. Julia breathed lightly as she waited for that door to open, raising her duffel bag to protect her face and closing her eyes as her pulse raced with nerves. The inevitability of her fate seemed crushing.
But it never came.
Instead she was met with a knock at the door and a hesitant voice asking, "Hello?". How was she meant to react to that? The voice didn't sound threatening but she only had seconds to react and her life was potentially at stake. Every rational thought was telling her not to say a word, to avoid confrontation and hope that they would take silence to mean it was empty. But what if they opened the door anyway and found her perched there?
"H-hello?," she impulsively blurted out in spite of her better instincts, immediately regretting it.
"It's Julia. Who's there?"